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#i had a bunch of rejected titles for this piece:
fanpageknight · 8 months
Note
Hi, could you please write one where reader wakes up, only to see that yandere Monica tied them to the bed while she prepares the apartment for their 'future together'
Future Together
Posted:07/22/23
Title: Future Together
Yandere Monica Geller x GN reader
Author's note:
Word Count: 1139
Friends Story List/ Master List/ Requests Here
Warnings: yandere
🔞18+ page due to dark and adult themes. Minors will be blocked 🔞
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The sounds of blissful humming match the beat of a muffled love song as it spilled through the cracked door. You groaned, trying to open your heavy eyes. Blurry memories comforted you none as you scan the unfamiliar bedroom. Panic fills you. Survival instincts take over. You jerk your body to sit up as you scream for help only to find your wrists restrained to the bed posts with fluffy pink handcuffs. "Help!" Your yells echo. The bedroom door swings open, and it reveals your friend Monica. Her beautiful face was filled with worry as she tried to calm you. However, her face only made blurry memories clearer.
The night before, she had invited you over for dinner. You had been worried that your rejection of her love would place a strain on your friendship. So the news of a one-on-one homemade dinner was a welcomed one. She had made a big meal with all your favorites. Monica's radiating smile still shined bright as you dug into your food. However, the weight of the worries you had once relieved yourself of was quickly replaced by a new sick feeling. "Why aren't you eating?" You asked mouth half full. She waved you off, resting her chin in her hands, watching you consume her love. "Because silly I made it for you." You look at her confused, rubbing your heavy eyes. The rest of the night was still a bit of a blur, but you knew enough. You remember the drugged food and the dangerous love-fogged eyes she gave you, and that was enough.
"No, get away!" You yell at her. She slaps a hand over your mouth. "Sshhhh... it's okay, silly. It's just me... your loving girlfriend Monica." She smiles before kissing your forehead, leaving a dark lipstick mark that sealed your doom like a love letter to hell. The vibrations of your muffled pleads tickled her hand. "I know this is a bit strange, but..." She stops to smile and shiver with excitement. "But I know I will give you the best life ever! Because if there's one thing I do best, it's everything!" Realizing you've stopped making noise, she smirks. "If I move my hand, you promise you'll be quiet?" You nodded. Monica kisses your cheek, leaving another mark before removing her hand slowly. There is a moment of silence. When you don't scream, Monica sighs in relief. "Thank you." A piece of your hair was gently tucked behind your ear. Monica let her fingers gently brush over the features of your face. "I know you probably have a lot of questions, but I still have a lot of work to do to get your new place set up... if you promise to be good, I'll let you hang out with me while I work. You'll still be handcuffed, of course, but we'll be together," you think for a moment, wondering if it was a trick question. You nodded again, making her giggle. "Honey, you can talk. Just no one screaming. You'll give people the wrong idea." You wondered what the 'right idea' was but found it best not to vocalize the question.
You gave Monica no struggle as she moved you to a chair in the messy living room of your new 'home'. "It's a bit chaotic right now, but it'll be the perfect place for us by the time I'm done." She speaks with glee, handcuffing you to the heavy chair. The walls had been painted your favorite color. The furniture was mainly made up of its two complementary colors. "Okay, so umm... over here will be the couch and TV area... and um, over here, I'm going to print out a bunch of photos of us and put them in frames to hang here." Monica skips around the apartment telling you every little detail of her plan for your new apartment. All while you try to figure out how to get out of here. "So um... what do you think?" Monica asks nervously, playing with her hands. Her question breaks your daze. You hadn't been listening. "O-oh um. I think it will look good." Her body melts in relief and happiness. "Really?" You nodded."y-yeah." Quickly making her way back to you, she climbed into your lap and hugged you. "Mon?" She looks at you lovingly. "Yes, honey?" You were sure what it is you want to ask, but you needed answers. "W-why... I just..." She frowns a little and sighs. "I know this... this isn't the best way to start our new life together but..." She stands up. "But I can give you the best life ever, and you couldn't see that." Her back is to you as her eyes fill with tears. "So I figured... I'll just have to prove it." She sounds determined when she faces you again. "And I will! I will prove that I'm the best wife you could ever ask for!" Before you could react, she grabs your face to kiss you. Her tongue slips in your mouth, causing her to groan and straddle you. "Mon-" You tried getting her attention. "Mon -" The more you tried, the more she thought you were into the unwanted attack on your face. "Ow!" Monica yells, yanking herself off your lap, holding her on bleeding lip. She looked at you with disbelief. Wolves need to remember that helpless lambs grow horns for a reason. "Did you just bite me?! What the hell is wrong with you?! Treating your wife like that!" She was pissed. "You're not my wife! You'll never be my wife! I don't love you and want to go home! My real home! Not some play pretend dollhouse bullshit!" You screamed at the top of your lungs. At the end of it, you open your eyes to see Monica filled with so much anger and sadness that she's silent. Not a word comes from her. After a moment of silence and tears-filled staring, she storms to the bedroom without a word. When she comes back, you see a mouth gag in her hand. "No. No, Monica. Let's just talk this out." She forces your mouth open and shoves it in before tightly securing it. "You are gonna sit here and think about your ugly tone and hateful, lying words! I may not be your wife yet, but I will be one day, and I'd MUCH prefer if I didn't have to drag you down the aisle with a collar and leash, BUT I WILL!" You began to cry as she yelled. "You will love me! Even if I have to force it out of you!" Monica catches her breath before going back to taking care of your home, ignoring you. She was not about to let your stubbornness spoil your future together.
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sea-owl · 9 months
Note
Remember that scene in the first season where multiple gentlemen visited the Featherington's residence and Portia and the girls thought they were meant for them, but they just courted Marina and ignored the girls?
Well, imagine this happening in the isekai au. Thanks to the new Portia's attitude and influence, the sisters have grown to be beautiful ladies in her own rights, erasing those horrible colorful dresses and hairstyles. They're more educated, have much better personalities and know how to draw the ton's attention. The usual distance they tend to keep from people only makes them seem more alluring.
Now imagine Marina, having heard of her relatives and thinking she'll be the center of attention (no hate on Marina, i'm just using her as narrative piece for the au) when the gentlemen arrive to the house, but turns out they're all flowing around the Featherington ladies, who look nothing like she remembered and they all reject the advances gracefully. Only Prudence takes time to entertain some of them.
Marina is even more shocked when she realizes Colin is affected too
I don’t know why but when @amybonehouse described this it just made me think of scenario in the isekai au that no one wanted a London season outside of maybe Edwina so they never went. That was fine by Portia she didn’t like being in London more than she had to. But the year Penelope and Edwina would have been 18. All the kids somehow got on Portia’s and / or Mary’s nerves, and they decided you know what? Get packing you bunch of heathens, we’re going to London this year. All of you (besides the three babies) are getting thrown into society.
Their minds were made up, and they were not gonna be swayed by anything. These brats were gonna go through the whole shebang. The modiste, the tailor, balls, garden parties, promenade, gentleman callers should there be any, and of course debutantes and their marriage minded mamas. They were gonna socialize and they were gonna like it.
The children huffed, but dared not to argue. There may have been a few mutterings, but nothing Portia or Mary heard lest a stray shoe be thrown at them. Prudence made a comment that “At least we’ll see Mama run around like a chicken with it’s head cut off avoiding Violet Bridgerton.” The rest agreed, that will be entertaining to watch.
Of course, both Portia and Mary know there’s no better time to make an entrance than the opening ball hosted by Lady Danbury. Both women have a flare for the dramatics just as much as their children. They made sure no one saw the children until the night of the ball. London was used to seeing the odd trip from Portia or Mary, not their whole brood. They made sure to arrive at night, and the children had no issues staying in the house to avoid all of London or going out in disguises. Whenever Portia or Mary went out for business reasons, they made sure to drop a hint that their children of eligible age will be attending the social season this year. The children’s distance from London, of course, gave them a mysterious allure, which Portia and Mary counted on. London always loves a new shiny thing. New residences or long returned residences will bring just that.
The girls thanked all that was holy that the guys were there when it came time for the ball. Especially because drama lover Lady Danbury somehow ropped them into meeting and even sharing a dance with the Bridgertons. Mary had to hold onto Portia at that point, reminding her this will work in their favor later when they annoy their kids with callers.
What none of them saw coming was that Jack Featherington was also coming to London and that he was bringing a cousin with him. While Jack was the technical Lord Featherington, he never bothered to claim his title and responsibilities. Thus, the barony was left in Portia’s hands. Many, rightly, assumed that the previous Lord Featherington (actually Portia) had left documentation for one of his daughters to inherit once certain conditions were met and that the current Lord Featherington was just a placeholder. Jack, having heard of Portia’s business success, decided it was time to drift into town. His cousins, the Thompson, and the ones he was staying (mooching) with before, had him take their daughter as his ward for the season.
"Have you met the Dowager Baroness Featherington before?" Marina asked Jack as they rode to the Featherington London house. It was the day after the Danbury ball.
"Once," Jack said. "She was pregnant with her third child back then. Mean thing, with horrible taste in everything. I can't imagine why she would take in so many wards if the rumors are true. I imagine they are all as daft as her. We shall have no problem finding you a husband. You'll be a rose among the thorns."
Marina nodded. She was still unsure about this if only George hadn't left.
The butler, Briarly, led them to the drawing room where, in Marina's opinion, too many eyes focused on them. The butler addressed the oldest two women in the room. "Lord Featherington and Miss Thompson, my ladies."
The red head of the two women stood up. "My lord, we had not heard word of you coming to visit."
Marina felt a shiver run down her back. There was something about Dowager Lady Featherington, about everyone in that room that screamed dangerous. The way the others eyed the lord of the house as if waiting for him to make the wrong move against the dowager lady.
"It was a rather late decision," Jack admitted with a laugh.
"Well I suppose we will have to hold off on callers today as we help you two settle in," Dowager Lady Featherington said.
Did the others just sigh in relief? Marina couldn't blame them of they did. From what Jack told her her Featherington cousins reputation wouldn't be the best, and they were possibly just tolerated among the rest of the ton. It would be rather embarrassing to have no one come to call with so many eligible daughters in the house. Perhaps Marina could direct some of her's towards them when the time came?
Lady Sharma hid a smile behind her hand.
Dowager Lady Featherington turned towards Marina. "Now tell me darling, do you have a dress for the ball tonight? If not, I'm sure we can find you one. I believe Philippa will be the closest in size to you."
So that is how Marina attended her first London ball in a borrowed dress.
She did not see much of her cousins, or the wards, or the family friends. They all seemed to be in a corner whispering among one another. Poor things to be left on the side lines.
Marina thinks her favorite dance partner was perhaps Colin Bridgerton. He would have been a good option had she not met George first.
The next day during call time the house flooded with callers. Marina had a decent share but she seemed to be the only one who was actually entertaining them.
Kate and Simon basically patrolled the room, bouncing from one to the next. Reminding Marina of a pair of parents. The callers for Kate had to walk with her if they wanted to talk.
Philippa and Sophie sat together doing needle work while they talked to their callers. Michael sat in the chair next to them. He honestly entertained the callers more than them.
Penelope clung to the boy who looked so much like Marina's George. What did she call him, Pip? Yes, that must be right. He had a book on plants that she would read over his shoulder when she was not being polite with a caller.
The only others who were actively entertaining the callers were Prudence, though she honestly looked to be playing a game, and Edwina. Marina thinks Edwina is just being polite from the far away look in her eyes and how once in a while she'll tap Penelope to jump in conversation.
Dowager Lady Featherington and Lady Sharma just sat and watched. A few giggles shared between them.
Gareth, Felicity, and Lucy are having the time of their lives watching their older siblings scramble to avoid suitors. All three were in the corner with some biscuits. Every once in a while, they would exchange money between one another.
The real shock came when not one, not two, but all three eligible Bridgerton brothers came to call.
Between the three of them, Marina wondered if there were any flowers left at the florist.
Simon was immediately by Kate's side when the Viscount walked up to her. Handing her the biggest of his bouquets before handing the smaller ones to the rest of the women who lived in the house. Mr. Benedict Bridgerton followed suit but instead gave his biggest bouquet to Sophie. Michael sat straight in his chair, his eyes never straying from the second Bridgerton brother.
Marina smiled as Colin walked closer to her. Penelope, who was not that far away, went stiff, and Pip had actually put his book away, watching Colin. His hand squeezing Penelope's.
Just as Marina was about to stand to greet her new caller, Colin had handed the largest of his bouquets to Penelope.
Dowager Lady Featherington immediately stood up. "Well, I believe call time is over. Thank you all for coming."
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Exactly 1,000
Words: 1065
Warnings: not really any
STRANGER THINGS Masterlist Main Masterlist
Actually highkey proud of this bro
And also, me writing BESIDES A SINGULAR SENTENCE fluff? Who knew that was possible
Can also be seen as a part three for You Don't Love Me Anymore? and I Still Love You. But it can also be read as a stand alone fic :)
This also was originally written for my OC Drew Henderson (Find info on her/original story on this account @imnotobsessedwfictionalchracters )
If you understand the reference in the title/how to be proposed (kind of), I fucking love you
Steve is PROBABLY OOC (as I suck at not being able to keep them from being OOC)
And yes, I WILL be doing a Part Two that involves telling everyone
Anywho, enjoy
Y/N sighed as she unlocked the door to her and Steve’s little shared apartment. The usual hour and a half drive became a 3 hour one due to the snow that was falling. She was happy to be back in the house. She knew Steve had taken the day off of work so she had planned to just lay in bed with him and watch Christmas films. Well, that was until she saw a bunch of daisies around the living room. She sat her bag next to the door and slipped off her jacket, confused.
“Steve?” She placed her jacket on the chair at the table. She began to take off her boots when she called for Steve again. “Steve? Where are you?” As she sat her boots next to his, he came out of their bedroom. He gave her a soft smile and walked over and kissed her softly. She smiled back at him when he pulled away. “Steve, why’re there daisies around us?”
“I thought you would know.”
She raised an eyebrow, “Why would I know?”
He shrugged, “The delivery guy said that they were for you. The ones on the table have a letter with them”
She nodded and walked over to them as she grabbed the small piece of paper, she asked him. “Did they say who they were from?”
Unknowingly to her, he was getting down on one knee as he spoke. “No, they said that the person had mentioned you would know who it is from the letter.”
She nodded silently and flipped open the piece of paper. She instantly recognized the handwriting as Steves.
1,000 yellow daisies. Just as you asked.
She turned back to him, confused. “Steve--” She stopped short and the confusion turned to surprise when she saw him on his knee. “Steve, wha--what are you doing?”
“We met when we were in 8th grade. I remember when I met you, I thought you were the prettiest girl I had ever seen. I was so happy when you decided to be my friend.” She nervously bit her lip as he spoke. “Then when you agreed to go to the Snow Ball with me, even though it was just ‘as friends’ I didn’t care. When we stopped being friends the beginning of our Sophomore year because of me being a fucking jackass and caring more about popularity than about my best friend. I still don’t know why you ever forgave me for everything I said, but I’m grateful you did.” He moved some of his hair that had fallen, away from his face. “Then everything happened in 1983 and I fully realized how much of a dick I had become. And I genuinely tried to become a better person. I remember that Christmas, I was getting to the Wheelers for dinner at the same time you were getting there to pick up Dustin. I like to think that was the day that things started to get better for us. Then a year later, when we worked together to protect the kids. I-I think that was when I realized that I never stopped loving you. So when you had agreed to that date, I had completely prepared myself for rejection so I was genuinely surprised when you said yes.” He let out a shaky breath, “Y/N, we’ve been through a lot of shit in the past few years of our relationship. And I want to go through the rest of the bullshit that life will throw at us. But I want to go through it together. So, Y/F/N Y/M/N Henderson,” He took a ring out of his pocket, “Surrounded by exactly 1,000 yellow daisies, I’m asking you to marry me.”
She couldn’t believe it. He was actually asking her to marry him. She shakily breathed, “Stevie--”
“I-I understand if you say no. I just had to ask and let you know that...that I was ready.”
She kneeled down next to him and placed a hand on his cheek before pulling him in for a kiss. When she softly pulled away, she leaned her forehead against his. “Put the fucking ring on my finger, Harrington.”
She felt and heard him laugh and she felt the cool metal ring slipping onto her finger. He kissed her again and they both stood. This time when he pulled away, he softly started to play with the ends of her hair. “Are you happy that I remembered?”
She laughed, “Surprised. I hardly did.” She brushed some hair out of his face, “I said that, what? 3 years ago? I remember it wasn’t long after Starcourt.” She kissed his nose, “I can’t believe you remembered.”
He smiled, “It was ingrained into my head. That if I were to ever propose to you, I would need 1,000 yellow daisies. No more. No less.” He laughed lightly, “I uh...God, you’re gonna call me crazy for this.”
“For what Stevie?”
He sighed, “I uh...I got the ring after everything that happened in ‘86. Cause I realized that it felt nice...lying and saying that we were married in order to stay with you after everything. A few days after you had come home, I went out and bought a ring.” She gleaned down at the ring. It was a sapphire surrounded by diamonds. She knew it must have cost him a fortune. “I remembered how you mentioned, off-handedly, that you loved Princess Diana’s ring. So I found one similar to it. But this one was more you.”
“Steve, this must’ve cost a fortune.”
“It wasn’t really! The jeweler was an old friend of my family. Ironically, every Harrington has bought their ring from there.”
She laughed, “Steve ‘I hate my family tree’ Harrington, got an engagement ring from the same place every Harrington has gotten theirs from?”
He rolled his eyes, “Laugh all you want. But I was able to get you a ring that I knew you would like and it not cost like...a fortune.”
She smiled and kissed him softly, “I’ll always laugh at you, love. Especially when it’s ironic.” She sighed and picked a daisy out from one of the pots and placed it behind her ear. “So, how’re  we gonna tell everyone? Or, more specifically, Dustin.” Now that was not something Steve had planned. And it was something he hadn’t really thought about till just now.
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nebulaic147 · 2 months
Text
Gender Update
Lots of questioning has been happening over the past couple of weeks (indeed, over the past year), and because this blog is meant to document my experience as well as share my journey, my works, and my philosophies, I have chosen not to omit any original introductions from this page.
I will always pin posts and tag them #mypresentjourney to keep people in the loop.
I was finding it especially difficult to gather a sense of how I could convey both the manifoldness and specificity of my identity. Considering pronouns and titles was surprisingly unhelpful because it was focussed on external perceptions rather than attempting to describe my experience. I found much more ease exploring through lists of identities.
If anyone else wants to try this, I had a general realm of what I roughly lay in and amalgamated a bunch of congruent terms (for example, nonbinary umbrella - just finding all the different nuanced forms; or seeing what and if feminine associated titles were all right). I added ones I also had never considered, ones I had felt uncomfortable with in the past, fun ones I found delightful, ones I would never use in public but were descriptive. I was both trying to challenge myself and really hone on how I'd feel comfortable presenting (and also if you're new to the community, it's a great way to see the diversity therein).
The list came out like this (you are free to use this template/make yours prettier/etc.):
~ ~ ~
Tuesday, February 6, 2024 - 11:14am
Most liked:
Transandrogynous
Nonbinary
Gender expansive
Nebulous/Nebulaic
Very Much Liked:
Androgynous/Androgyne
Genderfluid
Gender nonconforming
Transgender
Abimegender
Novigender
Circumstantial:
Femme
Demienby/demiflux
Polygender
Pangender
Queer
Genderqueer
Abrogender
Aliagender
Middle of the Lane:
Omnigender
Demifluid
Maverique
For My Personal Amusement:
Gendery Bendery (or, wibbly wobbly gendery bendery)
Genderfuck(ery)
Genderflow
Meh:
Agender
Agenderflux
Aporagender
Fluidflux
Absolutely Not:
Bigender
Cisgender
Demigirl
Graygender
Demiboy
~ ~ ~
I listed them all and wrote down explanations about why I did, didn't, or maybe liked them the evening before, then reordered them like this while I had breakfast in a café.
For example, demigirl was a term I didn't mind a year ago. Now, I realise that was me clinging to womanhood and doesn't actually have resonance with who I am.
Conclusion
Here is my current standing:
Nebulaic and nebulous will always be terms that make me happy.
More frequently, though, I really love transandrogynous. Realising I'm trans for me is finally embracing that I'm not a woman and I don't have to force myself to fit into that anymore. I can transition into that androgyny - it's incredibly liberating.
Nonbinary is always a comfortable term - it's well-known, it's easy to describe to people without getting into details, and it's nebulous enough to be fluid. It also implies rejecting strict binaries which I like.
Gender expansive indicates the encapsulating nature of how I bring in masculinity and femininity and other beautiful pieces into my androgyny, and that I'm not confined to a box.
I'm still figuring out my relationship with femininity and masculinity, I'm still exploring who I am, but I've realised that I'm definitely predominantly (as the list probably indicates) most comfortable with androgyny.
Wherever you are at, you are lovely and deserve so much love and respect, and you will find your way. Hopefully this little exercise helps you like it did me.
With love, T.C.
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lonespektr · 5 months
Text
OCTOBER 14TH (day late) HORROR WATCH
Something in the dirt (2022)
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This is Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead if you haven't heard of these guys strap the frack in.
I have never fully understood any one of their films without at least a second watch
... maybe synchronic
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Already on tilt
OCD?
Looks like a morel mushroom but with spikes??
Do not expect an explanation
Ok well guy apparent derelict no furniture sleeping on floor daylight
Helicopter
No subs are
Oh they are okay
The two have been lead actors in their films more than once
Neighbor meet and greet
Divorcee tells him that the apt had been vacant for a decade
Told a big bloody fib about a death
Doesn't explain the vacancy like that's even creepier man
Said something else weird and drove off on a scoot scoot
It was a squirrel omg
Shot of the electricity meters
And a bunch of other things in quick sucession power lines etc then chimes
Ok interview suddenly
Meta about their films lolz
Somebody died
Guy friendship makes me seeth with envy and wrench my clothing
They are best friends now,?!!! U movin furniture??
How??? U just met??? That could be a serial killer an asshole! That's a literal stranger
I hate men
They are chatting like they have known each other for years (they do)
Fish story
They both at each time appeared wary of the other at least
sharing wifi??
That is a STRANG-ER
Behold the promise LAN
First uh tension
Kinda told him after he helped gotta kick u out
Except rolled right into compassion AA convo
Lol 😂 till he said ok cool
Lol housewarming plant dude why would u think he brought a rando plant to a new place obviously
His grandma runs a nursery
Already talking weird, cult vibes
The prism crystal piece he found on the ground just started floating and prisiming
Divorcee saw it and honestly told the new move in guy who was already trying to kick him out but graciously instead of doing the whole wait until it happens later bs as divorcee is leaving it happens again
And unlike the white men they are the bolt out of the apartment
They are literal shots of the text of what is being said randomly interspersed cut into the dialogue
Fights keep passing over head
Three birds just hit the divorcee guys door , dead
They agree that they have to document legitimate supernatural stuff and get rich/ successful
Youth shelter person comes to pick him up
Dude pretty sure that's his PO and he's court mandated
Back to interviews
New guy had stashed the birds in a cardboard box just to make sure they weren't just knocked out
One bird was gone when he went back to check
Lord of heat coming from the closet
Anti title drop??? Cute
This is very meta
Debate about titles they are both rejection sensative like prickly about critiques
He said i guess it waits for you (new guy) but the first time we saw it it was only the divorcee
This is very nope at this juncture
They are tooling up, my Internet is very slow
The chimes are Russian nesting Dolls
Address the obvious P.O.
He said he's on the sex offender registry for peeing in public
The thing is actually moving ( i should clarify it looks like the og big ass crystal ash trashs
Although it's obvious cut in half orb and prismy
They have digital and film cameras
They may have a shot
The geometry of magnetism - rando book that divorcee knows
Lol why was it written in esperanto i mean obvs why but 😂😂
Oh the weird shape that prsim makes is on the cover
Lol divorcee just asked do i sound unhinged and new guys like oh no nono psychologic breaks are totally different 😂😂😂
Lol he just yelled at the paper weight if you are a ghost do something
Now they are like??? Not a ghost
Coulda told you that boys it's very scientific
It's scientific because this is your film and you always do science shit 😂😂
The guy says he has seeing the symbol all over town now
Most of the shots were of old buildings that symbol would have been there for years
Lol new guy said u goin dan brown on me
He's like no man it's just a math thing like the fibbinocci sequence
When a rectangle expressed as a ratio
(how the fuck does one do that #dyscalculia)
It is that irrational number
Lol he said this better not be about Stonehenge 😂😂
This dude is smoking inside like a fucking 1950's film JEEBUS
the whole time there's s discordant plunk in the sound track
(They do this)
This is the third time he has crossed the threshold out of the room and it drops the new guy im googling their names cause im getting irritated
John and levi
The city scape looms large
Planes sirens
They are both a hot mess
Door knob to hot closet that never shits is shaking
Pause for the cause
(the cause being my bedtime)
Gonna switch to something with a better signal and finish that first
OMG wtf the light refractor is floating why was it in the closet?
Omg plot point i couldn't hear
Gravity?
Soil samples (documentary)
High chromium
Earthquake
Wait is the inside of the closet glowing
Now the light is communicating with them
Quartz deposit
More meta
Why did you play youselves reenactment
I love that's is just a series of conspiracy theories
I read this ted talk, i saw this reddit post
Cyotes again
Ace
Pulling random unexplainable things weaving them together
Snake skin
Just random things
Found an old ass recorder like old ass
With sacred number tape on it
Pythagoras
The rose croutons?
Dream logic
Numerology crystals
City planner 1908
Like full ideas of reference
Literally just picked up a rock at 1908 coordinates that had a strip of paper with w website in it
The guy with hx of mental illness ace is uh keeps trying to back out - John new guy
Crystal resonates with sound
There's the symphony conspiracy theory
The crystal almost fell on his head when he was asleep but did why do you sleep in that room with it
Let alone the apartment at all
Levi
Not they are full on literally every single idea of reference
Now they are talking about simulations after seeing a glitch in the stop crosswalk
Mind control cat parasites - which i just heard about
This month
The phenomenon is dried up
John wants to leave as planned
The levi guy made up a bunch of shit and broke in somewhere told john some kies starting to fabric stuff
Lol this tablet was used to design the city
Now my plant is alien in nature ,(from my own grandmas nursery)
Eat the cactus fruit
Inside the cactus fruit is morse code!!!!!!
Here they are
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Lol he's been lying from the jump even about the book
Coordinates
Old ass radio on a loop
Redacted script
Very convenient
John tried to do another idea of reference but lim? Levi shut him down
About his spearfishing
Radiation?
Old ass raio
Levi in an effort to fabricate more stuff erased the original stuff
Melted the hard drive
Just when john wanted to go again
The phenomenon started back up
And the guy keeps digging into his criminal history
Even then he wants him to stay
They are fully fighting and dragging each other
Oo literally dragged his sister into it then when he broke he smiled
Like a sicko
It's a full scale read fest very intense
WHILE THE MOST PHENOMENON THAT HAD EVER HAPPENED IS HAPPENING
and they are ignoring it fighting each other
There's an earthquake and not they are drawing a truce
Levi is floating the crystal went high and cracked
John ? Was floating too?
But off the balcony???
Fin
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gunpowderfeverdream · 6 months
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i just feel so weird all the time.
trans vent under the cut along with a bunch of incoherent things im just putting it under a cut so that it doesn't clutter the tags since it's long and messy and weird and shitty
it's like... yeah, i know i am not cis but do i want to go through changing everything and risk being rejected by my family? i was lucky enough that my mum accepted that im queer (to say the least). i mean i can do hrt and stuff without anyone knowing, that's fine, but do I want to officially change? can it not just be a social thing among people i trust? I think I'm more inclined to go down that route and just be a butch looking person who uses he him as preferred pronouns online and with irl trustworthy people but is she her'd by everyone else. like I don't think I'll be very bothered by pronouns irl if im pleased with the way my body looks or the way my voice sounds, even if i have to work on making it sound feminine and stuff after hrt deepens it. honestly just wish this wasn't so hard. today i went to this doctor who said i should put myself first but like i can't do that for certain things lol and if i did that i wouldn't even be here anymore because if im alive at all it's because i know my brother would be wrecked if i had "put myself first" and not thought of him and stuff so like... yeah, maybe consider the blind sides of the things you say.
this is my rambling kinda honest ranty horny something fucking gunpowder fever dream blog i need a place to let it all out.
also can i just say that the radical feminists and the self-titled GCs aka the terfs aka people who think women are just pussies with legs are part of the reason why i feel so bad about being trans? like they actually actively want to eradicate people like me. they want to force people like me into conformity to a made up shitty binary and completely disregard that there are afab people like me who are also intersex and traumatised because of the bullying of people like them who want everyone to fit into neat little shitty boxes of made up traits and all that shit. and it just makes me angry beyond all reason because they actually guilt-trip people like me who are afab and trans and want to be more masculinised and say we're "gender traitors" or that we want "male privilege". and then rejoice when some people cave to their harassment and detransition while keeping it lowkey and say 'uwu i support detransitioners!!' yes of course you do you fucking fascist. of fucking course you do you fucking piece of shit. you want people to conform to your brain-dead idea of gender even if that makes them kill themselves and be miserable. because you think that a trans woman being in the bathroom is what's destroying society and is dangerous and you seem to believe that the door to the fucking bathroom is locked to people without pussies and that actual men who want to hurt women won't enter if they want, you absolute dumb shit fucker rat. apparently to enter the fucking women's restroom you have to scan your cunt on the cunt reader by the door or some shit. it's literally the most stupid group of people along with incel and andrew tate stans i've ever seen.
and yeah these people make me feel bad about something that has bothered me my entire life which is my gender identity and the roles randomly attributed to a gender that was slapped on me when i was born and i don't really identify with. and then nobody wants me to pick "the other side" of the binary even though i'm intersex and should be able to do whatever the fuck i want since apparently staying on the fence is not an option. and like im so willing like i said above to just partially change until i don't feel crippling dysphoria every time i hear my own voice or look at my legs and chest even though it's mostly flat which is something i even posted here as a test because yeah it really is that flat and if i lay on my back completely flat but i still want to have it all removed and i wish i could do that before hrt actually starts kicking in in case i gain weight since i would like minimal scarring and as it is right now it's perfect for the surgery that leaves almost zero scarring.
and another thing that i want to just air out since im already here is my sexuality. i decided to label myself bisexual since i do have male attraction even though it's minimal and like while i do prefer male pronouns and want to be more masculine i still am in touch with a more feminine side of myself, which is something everyone has, and like... i don't know, i never found community anywhere. trans, queer, nothing. and that's part of the reason i just want to masculinise myself to a point where i no longer feel uncomfortable in my own skin and just look butch and have a slightly deeper voice. and i like the sapphic label and i feel like since im afab i should be able to use it without it being appropriative considering that i do prefer women and fem-aligned people and am not thinking of legally changing anything so. and yeah well i have asd and cptsd which is... not good. and my sex life and romantic interest thing is very complicated. because for the latter i feel like i don't want to put anyone through my baggage and there are parts of it which make me scared of intimacy and stuff and the asd complicates everything. all the encounters i've had were when i was high (on weed, perfectly conscious) and so it sometimes i feel like i never truly had sex as myself because i had to be in a slightly altered state of mind to relax and actually give in to to the desire i do feel, because otherwise i get scared and run but i think my libido is average, like it's not high and it's not low, it's just average. and yes sometimes i feel nothing at all because of all the medication i take but i would consider it average.
i just feel like a very unlovable person, honestly. i feel like nobody will ever love me because im too messed and i will never be able to get rid of neither asd nor cptsd. i may be able to find coping mechanisms (which I'm still trying to do but i am very unlucky with therapists and they just keep prescribing me shit instead of giving me coping mechanisms or something else) but i will be like this for as long as i live and i don't want to subject anyone to it, imagining that i found a partner or something. so like.... i just push any advances away because i feel like it's not possible to love me and that the people who have claimed to don't really know what they're saying because they don't know who i really am and how hard it can be to deal with my episodes and again i don't want them to have to find out and be traumatised by it. so yeah, well long rant vent mess thing idfk
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poetry-draws · 3 years
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It seems there will be no peaceful tavern for us at the end of this road. After everything we have gone through, I suppose I am not really surprised.
The Battle of the Morannon
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the-possum-writes · 3 years
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could u maybe do a finn x reader imagine where reader is a princess that needs rescuing? ❤️❤️ also thank you for being such a lovely author!!
What a Princess Does [Finn Mertens]
A/n: Sorry for the delay, but thanks for the support~
Pairing: Finn x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1271
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The day of your coronation finally came. With your eldest sibling being crowned King, you were given the title of princess along with a crown to prove your title. It's not that intricate as your sibling's crown, just a smooth band of gold with a single jewel on top.
"Greet our new subjects (y/n)." your brother comments, waving at the citizens below the castle porch.
"Why?" you respond.
"Because it's what royals do, especially princesses." That's something that lingers in your mind for a while. What does a princess do exactly? After the day of your coronation you've been receiving tea party invitations from other princesses, finding it as a nice opportunity to find out an answer for your question.
"What does a princess do? Look glamorous of course-!" Slime princess responded with a flick of, what you assume is her slimy hair.
_____
"A princess is responsible of filling their head with knowledge and share it with others." is what Turtle Princess told you, her library more than an obvious demonstration of her love for literature. Even if it's on the more spicy side.
____
"What? A princess doesn't have to do anything, just sit back, relax and watch others do things for you." Lumpy space princess scoffs at the thought of responsibilities, she's way more interested at picking up boys. But then again she's homeless so you can't completely trust her advice.
___
"A princess is just as important as a king or queen, it's your duty to watch over your kingdom and help them prosper." Princess Bubblegum, the more strict of the bunch, explained more than you were expecting to hear.
It made your status as a princess sound more important but your self-doubt manifested itself as well. What if you're not fit for the role? Your thoughts are interrupted when the carriage came to an abrupt stop. Worry started to fill your stomach when you heard horses run away and your guards cry out and drop to the ground. The door opened up to a tall man wearing dark robes, a bandit you assume.
"You're a princess right?" the man asked.
Fear climbs up your throat, unable to speak but still responding with the nod of your head. The man grunts in relief. "Good." before tossing you over his shoulder.
You finally snapped out of your shock after a minute or two. "Hey! What are you doing!?" you start shouting.
"I'm kidnapping you, it's what all the bad guys do to princesses."
Somehow that part made sense to you no matter how messed up it sounded. The man kept rambling about how he'll hold you hostage for ransom money, you had faith that your brother wouldn't leave you hanging, but that doesn't mean you're frustrated with the situation. "I demand you put me down! Somebody help!" you started kicking and shouting again. The bandit struggled to keep a hold on you. "Stop that or i'll-"
"Or you'll what?" A third voice came into the scene, causing you to stop and try to get a good view of who this stranger is. You've heard of brave knights clad in shiny armor saving princesses but you never expected your hero came in the form of a boy dressed in blue shorts and a white bear hat. "Drop the lady or I'll cut you to pieces!" he withdrew his sword from behind, instilling fear within the bandit.
"Alright, alright," he huffs without another word. Unceremoniously dropping you to the ground. How rude! Before he could take his leave the white knight blocked his path with his blade.
"Nah ah ah, you forgot to apologize." the young man was teasing him now, pulling a little chuckle from you.
The thief rolled his eyes, turning around to face you. "Sorry." the thief apologized, "Can I leave now?" he turned to the young man, who, in a single slash of his sword managed to cut the thief's belt and drop his pants in humiliation. This was enough to satisfy the young man and let the thief run off.
"Are you okay?" your knight stored away his sword in favor of helping you stand up, taking your hand in his calloused ones. "Yeah, I'm fine." you insist, but wince slightly the moment you stood up. A scrapped knee. "Ouch, that looks like it hurts. Here, let me help you with that." the blonde lowered himself to his knees, pulling out a plain band-aid from his backpack and sticking it to your fresh wound.
"I... Thank you, but I never got your name."
"Oh right, my names Finn. I'm sorta the sheriff around here." the young man chuckles between a bright smile with a few crooked and missing teeth. He's nice, was the first thought that came to mind upon meeting the boy, although you've never met him before his actions demonstrated a courageous spirit and a heart of gold. Someone you'd definitely love to have around.
Remembering your manners, you stood up straight and pressed your hands together on your lap. "Ehem, Sir Finn I am grateful for your help and as a princess of a nearby kingdom I award you with an honorable job as my bodyguard. I'm sure my brother will pay you heavenly for your services." you keep a formal tone and vocabulary you're definitely not used to.
Finn laugh momentarily, scratching the back of his neck."That's very nice of you princess, but the rest of Ooo needs me as a bodyguard. So, I'm gonna say no to that." A frown appeared on your face, why would he reject your offer? He's a knight and you're a princess, isn't this how these things go? However, any sense of doubt or disappointment faded away when he added. "But, if what you want is to hang out I'm definitely down for that."
The frown on your face turns into surprise, before settling on a beaming smile. Finally, something that has nothing to do with being a princess. "I would gladly... I mean, yeah that'd be cool." you drop the formality with him, happy to be yourself and relax. With your carriage broken down and no guards to company you, Finn offered himself to safely walk you back to your kingdom. Taking the moment to make small talk.
" Hey Finn, you rescue princesses all the time right?" you turn your head to look at him, eliciting a nod from the young man. "Do you know what princesses do exactly? Like, I'm kinda new to all this." you admit, somewhat embarrassed.
Finn chewed on a piece of grass as he looked up at the sky, pondering for a moment before responding. "I'm pretty sure you can do whatever you want. You wanna cook the world's most delicious desserts just for yourself? go for it. What about just going on vacation? Sure, why not? You wanna make life easier for your kingdom? or even rule with an iron boot? It's all up to you princess. Each princess I've met is unique in thier own way."
You're left speechless, you've been so focused on what others want that doing something for yourself has never crossed your mind. It's like an invisible weight has been lift off your shoulders. "What I want..." your eyes trail away from the path that leads to your kingdom, stopping on your tracks to turn the other way around. "... I wanna go out and eat some waffles." you proclaim confidently.
Finn jumped excitingly, jokingly acting in a formal manner. "Mind if I tag along m'lady?" he extends his arm to you, which you happily grab onto.
"Of course my fellow white knight."
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aestherians · 3 years
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Choice or Chance?: Exploring voluntarity and categorization in the otherkin and therian communities
Under the cut is the full script for my Othercon 2021 lecture, in which I examine the way we categorize nonhumans based on the perceived amount of choice they had in their identity and how this practice is detrimental to both questioning people and our community as a whole. At the end, I propose a new way to define otherkind and otherlinkers to hopefully move our community forward.
Reading time: 30-40 minutes.
The focus of this lecture has changed a bit since I started working on it. My earliest idea was to discuss the grey area between otherlinks and kintypes - in fact one of my working titles was Grey Zones and Silver Linings. And I still plan on talking about this, though not in the way you might expect. I originally wanted to argue that those who found themselves in this grey area should be able to choose how they wanted to refer to their identity, but the more research and thinking I did, the more I realized that this would still leave a bunch of people torn and confused and wouldn’t solve any of the greater problems in our community. It also seems like such a water-is-wet statement with how the conversation has developed… and you know me, I’m only happy when I’m starting controversies.
So I went looking for the root of this whole categorization debacle.
The nonhuman community, as we know it, didn’t always exist, and though we often say it has roots in elven communities from the ‘70s, that’s only half the truth. While the Elf Queen’s Daughters and related successors such as the Silver Elves are the earliest known organized nonhuman communities, they’re by far not the only pioneers.
Because nonhuman identifying people have always existed, and our numbers have always been relatively small, some of us ended up grouping together without even being aware of the other groups that existed. And of course, all these independently formed groups ended up with their own cultures and traditions and philosophies.
Mailing lists, like the Elfinkind Digest, were generally open for anyone to join and read. But they also weren’t widely known or easy to stumble upon for folks who didn’t already have an interest in these kinds of spirituality and identification. This resulted in a culture where people’s self-identification was generally respected, and they would only be questioned if they made extraordinary claims.
Compare this with the newsgroup Alt.Horror.Werewolves, which was open for anyone to access on Usenet, and which was originally created as just a place to discuss werewolf media. On AHWw, the therians (or ‘weres’ as it was back then) would frequently have to defend their existence against strangers who just found them by coincidence. This would lead to a culture more focused on appearing respectable, which in turn would lead to grilling of new members and shut-downs of “fluffy” topics.
Other independent groups, such as Alt.Fan.Dragons, which was centered around dragons, or Always Believe, which was centered around unicorns, had their own cultures as well. For example, AFD generally accepted dragons from modern fiction, which would not have been tolerated on AHWw.
The Silver Elves is another semi-independently evolved group of elves, fae and similar beings that still exists to this day. They only represent a fraction of our community, but for today’s discussions I find their writings very illustrative. They’ve written about choice of identity on multiple levels. For starters, they believe a lot of elven spirits have actively chosen to incarnate into human bodies. More provocatively, and more interesting to me, they’ve stated multiple times that simply wanting to be an elf means you are an elf.
This is in contrast to the therian community on AHWw, where there was a big focus on involuntary shifts and theorizing on why some people were born with and animal side. I think it’s reasonable to assume this focus on involuntary experiences is due to the werewolf narrative that the community stemmed from. In werewolf media, a person’s wolfish side is rarely, if ever, a choice, while in new age and spiritual communities, like that of the Silver Elves, there’s a greater emphasis on choice of spirituality and subsequently on choice of identity.
It wouldn’t be right to say that every therian back then shared the same idea; however, the idea that involuntary shifts are a core trait of therianthropy does seem to persist in the AHWw’s userbase. Nearly all introduction posts include a line about involuntary shifts. Another idea that repeats itself is that the therian either had a “sudden awakening” or “just always knew” they were animalistic; contrasted with the Silver Elves’ idea that simply wanting to be an elf is enough for you to be one.
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There are two main ideas about origins that seem to persist in all of this: That one is either born nonhuman or becomes nonhuman. Both are equally true. The ‘born-this-way’-narrative is quite a bit more common than the ‘becoming’-narrative, though that’s not to say that the idea of becoming nonhuman is rare, or even all that controversial in most communities - with a few caveats, that is.
The idea that one can become nonhuman tends to rest on the idea that what we become is outside our control. On the more metaphysical side of things there are stories of people being spiritually transformed into an animal after encounters with an animal spirit, or of having a shard of a god put into them. And on the more mundane side, there are stories of imprinting on a species during early development, or of taking on the experiences of a character after being engrossed in a piece of media. Most people I’ve talked to don’t have a problem with these ideas of ‘becoming’ as something outside your control.
What really gets people’s goat is when someone describes specific choices they’ve made on their journey, which ultimately led to their nonhuman identity.
This finally leads to the theme of this lecture: The topic of choice itself and how we categorize others based on the perceived amount of choice or chance there’s been in the development of their identity.
Questions I’ll discuss include: What kind of choices do we have regarding our identities? What the heck does ‘choice’ even mean in this context? And how does the idea of choice (or lack of choice) affect the way our community functions?
There are many kinds of choices that we inarguably do make on our journey of self-discovery. Probably the first universal choice is to undertake the journey and to seek out a nonhuman community. Choices that naturally follow include choice of labeling - whether we want to call ourselves otherkin, therian, fictionkin, nonhuman, and so on - and the choice to accept or reject whatever feelings caused us to seek out a nonhuman community in the first place. In this line of thinking, being otherkin is a choice - you choose to label yourself as otherkin. However, the feelings, on which you base your decision to label yourself, are not a choice. The feelings that pushed you towards the community were already there.
Another choice that follows pretty naturally in this line of thinking is the choice to strengthen whatever connections you already have. This is something I’m intimately familiar with, as I’ve been doing it since I awakened as a bison. Before I even became aware of my species identity, I knew I was nonhuman. I’d been having simultaneous bison and gnoll feelings for a few years, but couldn’t separate them, and had, without much introspection, decided that I must be some weird kind of wolf. I think a lot of us with uncommon theriotypes have gone through a phase like that.
However, one day I experienced a very strong flashing image - basically a flashback - of being physically a bison. The vision was so vivid and tactile, I immediately knew what it meant, and for the next few weeks I ignored every experience that wasn’t quite bison in nature, and just examined the recognizably bovine feelings. This helped strengthen my bison identity, and in total my questioning process only took around 2 months.
Though I’ve settled in my identity as a bison, and I’m comfortable referring to myself as a bison, I never quit reinforcing it. While I didn’t create the original bison-like feelings, I’m very conscious of the fact that I do choose to connect every trait to my bisonhood that I can. Whether I see the traits as a cause of my current bisonhood, or a result of it, things like being stubborn, preferring physical fights over verbal ones, and even liking the taste of those Beanboozled jellybeans that are supposed to taste like grass… all these traits, that any human could have, are things I connect to my identity as a bison.
I’ve experienced some pushback towards this idea from a few therian communities. A very common rebuttal I’ve run into in introduction threads and grilling threads (which, introduction threads should never be grilling threads in my opinion, but that’s another story)… a very common rebuttal to considering these kinds of traits part of your nonhuman identity is: “Isn’t that just a regular human thing?”
I have so many problems with that question, I’m honestly not sure where to even begin. Yes, those traits are experienced by humans all the time. I think some of the only experiences in the community that regular humans don’t experience are, perhaps, species dysphoria and shifting. But if your identity began and ended with having dysphoria and experiencing shifts, it would hardly qualify as an identity. Treating an identity like just the sum of its parts, rather than a whole and complicated construct, is reductive and it doesn’t just hinder discussion, it stifles discussions.
I don’t know, maybe I’m the odd one here, but my whole nonhuman identity can not be encompassed by my horn dysphoria or the fact that I sometimes feel more like a prey animal than an apex predator. My identity is so much more than that. It’s how I view the world and how I view myself in relation to the world. It’s how I react to things, what I like and dislike, and what I want out of my life. When you envision an identity in this way, as a way to describe who you are, rather than a summary of every individual thing you experience, you absolutely will see some overlap with humans, like it or not.
Another reason I dislike the question “Aren’t those just human traits?” is that it’s often asked in communities where the consensus is that you were born nonhuman, and that your identity is somehow more real or ‘valid’ if it can be corroborated by childhood memories.
While looking back at your childhood and seeing how your current identity might have formed or changed throughout the years can help paint a picture of the identity as a whole, that kind of reminiscence should always be secondary to what you are currently experiencing. Your identity is not based on the fact that you played dog when you were a toddler. Pretty much every human child has played dog or been obsessed with cats or wished they were a dragon. It might be related to your current identity, but if those were your primary nonhuman experiences you would hardly consider yourself nonhuman, nor would you find a home in the community.
No, your identity is based on who and what you are right now, and what you’re experiencing this moment. The validity of your identity should not be judged based on the number of times you pretended to be that creature in kindergarten. Your kintype should be determined based on your current experiences. And if your current experiences include things that humans can also go through, that should have no impact on the validity of your identity.
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Alright, back on topic: Hopefully, we can agree that there’s no shame in strengthening your connections, reinforcing what traits you already have, and in drawing connections between a nonhuman identity and seemingly human traits. Which is a nice segue into a statement that might ruffle a few feathers:
Linktypes are typically based on preexisting traits that are reinforced to fit a certain narrative or ideal. A copinglink or an otherlink is rarely if ever pulled out of thin air. You just can’t craft an identity from nothing. Yeah, crazy, I know?
This parallels otherkin identities, which, as I mentioned earlier, are based on preexisting experiences and connections that one chooses to give a name and to strengthen.
The process of becoming a linker usually starts with recognizing certain traits that one either wants, or already has but wants to reinforce, by focusing them through a linktype. For example, wanting to become better at handling stress can be difficult to accomplish on its own, but is made easier by thinking about what a specific character or animal would do in a stressful situation.
But you can’t just establish a connection to any given character. There needs to be a resonance between you and the linktype, and if you don’t already have that resonance with the character, it’s impossible for you to craft an identity around them. And in that sense you could easily argue that there is an involuntary aspect to linktypes.
Once the prospective linker has recognized a connection with a character, they will begin the process of reinforcing the identity, which can include anything from writing fanfics in 1st person to wearing clothes reminiscent of the character to asking people to treat you like the character. All things that an otherkin or fictionkind might do when first establishing their identity.
A key trait of linking is that a linktype should fade away once you stop reinforcing it… Linktypes are supposed to go away if you just ignore them and push them away long enough. They’re built to be temporary.
However, a significant number of linkers or former linkers have talked about their linktype becoming an inseparable part of how they view themselves - even the ones who might be able to force their linktype away would at this point become completely different people if they did so.
In other words, their linktype has become an inherent part of who they are as a person. This integrality can appear regardless of how much effort they put into creating the linktype in the first place, and regardless of how nonexistent the linktype was before they created it… What I’m getting at is that some people describe creating an identity from scratch by their own choice, which later becomes an irreversibly ingrained part of them. It’s an experience completely contrary to the idea that we are born nonhuman. I’ll refer to these people as ‘linkers-turned-kin’.
There are a few regular rebuttals I’ve seen to this idea: That linkers-turned-kin just had a late awakening. Or that, perhaps, they felt compelled by their inner true species to seek out the identity. Or even that they were actually born nonhuman, but just didn’t realize until later.
All these rebuttals are disrespectful of the linker-turned-kin’s experiences and intelligence. I won’t even try to hide it: They make me angry. The rebuttals ride on the idea that the born-this-way idea of nonhuman identities is a fact rather than a common belief. I know that for a lot of people the born-this-way narrative rings true. I see you and I am not trying to invalidate your beliefs. Instead, I want you to acknowledge that others may not have the same belief as you. For several people in our community otherkinity is an identity that develops in response to certain traits they have - for some, those traits are inherent, something they’re born with. For others they’re traits that developed later in life, or that were worked towards. And I want to argue that, for some, these traits were expressly chosen.
The reason these arguments against linker-turned-kin make me so angry, aside from the fact that they’re built on the idea that linkers-turned-kin don’t understand their own experiences, and the assumption that your idea of how nonhuman identities work trumps someone’s lived experience… Another reason the arguments make me so angry is that they prescribe more importance to the why than the how of our identity. When you define otherkin by the way our identity formed, you’re basically saying that the cause of otherkinity is more important than the experience of otherkinity.
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We can’t talk about this without also exploring the community’s animosity towards psychological beliefs.
Through my years in the community, I feel like I’ve had to handhold some folks through the concept of religious tolerance. I remember a little over 4 years ago someone on tumblr asked me my opinion on fictionkind - it would be another 2 years before I had my own awakening, so my response was basically that I was fine with fictionkind, though I didn’t understand their experiences and the only way it could fit into my own worldview was as a psychological phenomenon. Even after my awakening, the latter still holds true. My fictionkinity is primarily psychological. But yeah, somehow my statement that I didn’t believe fictionkinity was caused by past lives got twisted into me saying that fictionkind were all just roleplayers.
Rereading the whole debacle that ensued, this twisting of my words had little to nothing to do with my own personal beliefs - it instead exposed a widespread antipathy towards psychological otherkin. When I have talked about my current experiences as a gnoll, my shifts and my flashbacks and my hiraeth, people generally accept it without a second thought. But when I mention that I believe it’s caused by various psychological phenomena, I have on multiple occasions been told that it must not be a real identity. Some people have even treated my parallel life as just an elaborate fantasy, rather than something that’s completely real to me. I have, word for word, been told that there’s no way I could identify as a nonhuman, or be another species than a human, without believing I have a nonhuman soul. A direct quote: “To say “I am fae” when [you] don’t believe in fae is illogical.”
What I take from these kinds of responses is that a subset of people within our community take it for granted that whatever beliefs someone has about the origin of their identity are objectively true, rather than understanding that our beliefs about our origins are just that: Beliefs. Whatever conclusion we’ve reached based on our experiences, reincarnation or imprinting or something else entirely, and no matter how much we believe in it, it will always be a belief and never a fact. I’m fully convinced that my bison identity is caused by a past life, and that my gnoll and Ben 10 identities are caused by various psychological phenomena. But if that doesn’t fit into someone else’s worldview, they have all the right in the world to explain it away however they want. I have friends who believe my bison identity must be caused by something psychological, and I have friends who believe my gnoll identity must be caused by something spiritual. That is their prerogative.
It doesn’t matter how people make sense of my nonhumanity, as long as they’re respectful towards my own experiences with my identity and don’t try to impose their beliefs on me. If you have to quietly believe that someone really has a faerie soul in order to accept that they’re really a fae, so be it. As long as you don’t try to deny the reality of their current identity. As long as you don’t try to claim that they aren’t really nonhuman, just because they have the quote-unquote “wrong” beliefs about their origin.
There is another, more recent and more prominent, example of the animosity towards psychological otherkin that comes to mind. I will not mention the term itself for fear of people harassing its creator. For the purpose of this lecture, I’ll refer to the concept as “nonhuman by birth”, which is essentially its meaning. If you know which word I’m talking about, I ask that you please don’t mention it in the chat. If you need to know, you can DM me. Also, don’t misunderstand this as me hating on people with past life or soul beliefs. Remember, my own bison identity is based on a soul from a past life.
So, last year a rather old community member on tumblr coined a term, separate from ‘otherkin’, to refer specifically to those who believe they have a nonhuman soul. Which wouldn’t be a problem in and of itself. After all, terms like animafidem and cerebrumalius have been around for half a decade with no issues. However, “nonhuman by birth” is specifically described in its coining post as a “less bastardized” alternative to the word ‘otherkin’. What this post describes as “less bastardized” is spiritual experiences, and specifically those spiritual experiences that are based on soul transfers and reincarnation. Essentially “nonhuman by birth” defines all other beliefs as bastardizations of what otherkinity is supposed to be. All beliefs, including spiritual beliefs that aren’t based on souls or past lives, psychological beliefs, beliefs of becoming nonhuman, beliefs based on magic, neurological beliefs, and archetypal beliefs… None of these are quote-unquote “true otherkin” according to the “nonhuman by birth” concept.
The word thankfully never gained much traction off tumblr, but I have seen individuals use it, and it always, without fail, makes me feel unwelcome, and unwanted. Not because there’s anything wrong with a strong belief in past lives or souls, but because those who choose to use that label specifically believe themselves to be the only true nonhumans. Because the term itself is not based on a respectful, individual belief, but on what its coiner believes to be an objective fact. Because this subset of our community has an almost-evangelical conviction that all nonhumans have nonhuman souls, and those who don’t have nonhuman souls are not nonhuman.
And like I mentioned earlier: The cause of otherkinity can affect the experience a lot. That’s why we have these discussions in the first place - we come together due to our similarities, and we try to understand each other and ourselves by discussing our differences. And this is exactly why proclaiming any version of nonhumanity as the One True Kind of Nonhumanity is so damaging. It completely stifles any exchange of ideas. It makes it impossible for us to understand our differences, and it leads to more and more narrowly defined subcommunities that all believe themselves to be more real than the others.
To define is to limit. We need some limitations, otherwise a dog is a cat and no words have meaning. But we need to be extremely careful where we want those limits to be, otherwise we end up with a community where psychological otherkin are bastards, and only those who are born with nonhuman souls are really nonhuman.
-
The next thing I want to discuss is subjective truth… Subjective truth is one of the most important concepts to understand and really internalize if we wanna have fruitful discussions and respectful experience sharing. In short, a subjective truth is something that is not real because it can be proven to exist through scientific measurements but is instead real because a person experiences it as real. If I make the claim that tea tastes better than coffee, for example, you cannot refute that simply because you think coffee tastes better. We have to understand each other’s experiences and accept that we experience the world in different ways. It’s equally true to say that coffee is better than tea and that tea is better than coffee. This is what I was talking about when I said that the “born-this-way”-narrative and the becoming-narrative are equally true.
So, how does subjective truth apply to this discussion?
A phenomenon in the community I’m sure we’re all aware of is kin memories. If you’re somehow not aware of them, in short they are images, episodes, sensory information, and similar experiences that are thought to stem from another life, usually a past life. They have all the qualia of a memory, except they didn’t happen to the body currently recalling them. These experiences, though, are not restricted to those who believe their nonhumanity stems from a past life. They aren’t even restricted to spiritual otherkin. Plenty of folks with psychological beliefs, mixed beliefs, and other beliefs report the exact same experience: Images, episodes, and sensory information that does not originate from this world or from this current life.
For decades there’s been a lexical gap in the community to describe these memories that aren’t memories. Which is where I can’t avoid tooting my own horn a bit. I have an extremely rich and detailed parallel life as a gnoll, from which I can quote-unquote “recall” events, people, traditions, names, and so much more. It’s all integral to my nonhuman identity.
However, because I believe it all stems from some deep unconscious part of my brain, and because it feels like a parallel life, not a past life, I never felt right calling these things memories. So almost two years ago at this point, I undertook the quest to fill that lexical gap. And after looking through dozens of obscure web pages and dictionaries and articles, I found something useful: The word ‘noema’. Noema is a rarely used Greek word that translates to concept, idea, perception, or thought. And I’ve been very happy to see the term catching on in my corner of the community, where it’s often used as a broader alternative to ‘memory’.
In philosophy, a noema is defined as “the perceived as it is perceived.” At first this might sound a bit vague or esoteric, but when looked at through the lens of subjective truth it suddenly starts to make sense. A subjective truth is something that’s real just because a person experiences it as real. A noema is the perceived as it is perceived. So when we’re using noema as a substitute for memory… when we’re discussing memory-like experiences in the community and we explicitly refer to them as noemata, instead of referring to them as memories, the actual cause of the noema is then irrelevant. The only thing that matters is that it’s in one way or another perceived as a memory. When talking about noemata, it’s completely and utterly irrelevant if they’re real in any objective way - the only thing that matters is that the individual experiences the noema as real. Essentially the word ‘noema’ makes the cause irrelevant, so we can instead focus on the experience alone.
And I think the fact that this word has caught on (at least on tumblr) hints that our community might be moving in a positive direction. I at least dream of a community where we care a lot less about our origins, and a lot more about our actual presence in the world.
-
I had a conversation with a friend a few months ago, about this community-wide worry about the origins of our identity. And just to reiterate, I’m not saying your spiritual beliefs are irrelevant, because they can be really important when forming a whole picture of your identity. I’m more so saying they can be a bit of a distraction. In my opinion, the whole discussion about spirituality vs psychology is a red herring. Most of us didn’t seek out the community because we had certain spiritual beliefs. We sought it out because we felt not-quite-human, and it was only later that we reached any conclusions about why we feel nonhuman.
So, my friend and I talked about the role this discussion of origins plays in our community, and we reached a few interesting conclusions. For starters, it’s really upsetting to some folks to have to earnestly consider the idea that reincarnated souls are no more real or ‘valid’ than psychological imprinting, or any other non-spiritual beliefs for that matter. That’s part of what started the whole ‘nonhuman by birth’ idea I mentioned earlier. And it seems this uncomfortableness stems from a place of insecurity.
At the risk of offending some folks, I’m gonna draw a parallel to the trans community. In the trans community there’s a discussion of origins that parallels the one in the kin community and is likewise an attempt to draw lines between the quote-unquote ‘real’ trans people and the so-called transtrenders - which are supposedly people who pretend to be trans for clout. Those who attempt to draw these lines proclaim that being trans is a medical condition that they wouldn’t wish on their worst enemy, and one that’s marked by intense dysphoria and stress. They’ll also regularly state that being trans is only real or ‘valid’ because it has been proven through MRI brain scans that some female-assigned people have supposedly male brains, and vice versa.
(And just to make things clear, those brain scans are not real. It’s malicious pseudoscience spread by people who want to ‘cure’ transness by preventing trans kids from being born.)
But I think this attempt at validating your identity - in this case with science - stems from a dislike of one’s own traits, or more likely from the outside world’s dislike of those traits. When certain trans people try to prove themselves more valid than others in the eyes of the public, it’s not because they just hate those they deem ‘not trans enough’ - it’s because they’re afraid of being rejected by the rest of the world. These people are basically saying: “I didn’t choose to be trans. This is how I was born, so you have to accept it because it’s unchangeable.” It’s a cry for acceptance in an unaccepting world. And all this is not to say that some trans people aren’t born trans; I really think most trans people have a narrative like that. I’m more so trying to get across that, someone else’s narrative of choice should have no impact on your narrative of involuntarity. Both are real ways to experience being trans. And in many ways, having a narrative of choosing to be trans is necessary for the community, because it closes the doors for eugenicists who would try to eliminate quote-unquote “the trans gene”.
Viewing transness as a purely medical phenomenon where you need to meet certain requirements to get a trans diagnosis is a really reductive way to look at identity. Like I mentioned earlier: An identity is not just the sum of its parts, and it cannot be summarized by being forced to feel dysphoria. The fact of the matter is that we don’t know trans people are real because we have brain imaging technology, or even because certain people meet the medical criteria for having gender dysphoria. We know trans people are real because there are real people who identify as trans. We should be able to trust that people are trans when they tell us they are. And I think we need to look at nonhuman identities the same way.
Before I move on to the conclusion, I want to explain why this topic has become so important to me. A couple of months ago, after a good year or two of introspection, I realized I had created a hearttype. Not a kintype, but nonetheless an equally integral part of how I view myself and engage with the world. And changing something so fundamental about myself sent my thoughts racing.
When I was a kid I picked up a fear of spiders. It wasn’t bad enough to give me panic attacks, but it was bad enough that I couldn’t pick up a spider and carry it outside, even though I could do so with other bugs. I was around 10 years old when I decided that this was dumb, and I wanted to change it. So as a tween I quickly started on my own exposure therapy, looking at photos of spiders, reading about them, photographing them in nature, and after several years it had gotten to the point where I barely had a reaction to seeing them. But as I continued on, getting used to the idea of holding them and touching them, something changed in me.
Where I had previously felt fear, I started to feel admiration and love and a sense of familiarity. I wanted to surround myself with these animals, I wanted to work with them, and I started spending a not-insignificant amount of money on terrariums. And now, after more than a decade of rewriting my own thoughts and changing a mild fear into a love so deep it affects my sense of identity itself, I feel confident saying I created a hearttype. It was not an easy process. Like I said, it took more than a decade. Changing your entire mindset like that can’t be done with just a snap of your fingers. But evidently, some people are able to do it.
Though I have to add that, even here, it’s very easy to argue that there was some level of involuntarity. I already had an emotional response to spiders when I was scared of them. I don’t think I could form this kind of relationship with something I’m completely indifferent to, like, I dunno, a Toyota or a Marvel character. You can’t really form a relationship from nothing. And I appreciate this argument, because it really highlights just how confusing the entire concept of choice is, and how it doesn’t make sense to define ourselves by our lack of choice, when we can’t even define what counts as a choice.
But yeah, realizing that I created a hearttype, an identity that at the time was considered involuntary… realizing that I didn’t just play a part in creating this identity, but that I did create it, period. It sent my mind spinning, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what else might be possible. If I could create such love in myself, could I also do the opposite and tear down my own hearttype and recreate the phobia? Not something I want to test. But I think I could. And which other identities could be created like this?
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the creation process has no impact on the nature of the identity itself, and I ended up posting a really controversial thing on tumblr. In hindsight I understand why some people got so pissed off about it, but I still stand by those thoughts. I’ll read it to you in full: “Theoretically I probably could force myself to not be otherkin. But it would take a decade or more, the way my hearttype creation did, and it would require constant work throughout those years. However, I see no way I wouldbenefit from that work, the way I did when I unintentionally created a hearttype in the process of getting rid of a phobia. It would just rid me of a part of myself that’s intrinsic to how I recognize myself. That’s not something I in any way want - and because I don’t want it, and because the choice would have to happen continuously on a timescale I can barely comprehend, I couldn’t make that choice in practicality.”
A very long and very complicated discussion came out of this post that I’d need a whole separate lecture to recap. But a few important ideas were developed, which I need to mention here. For starters, when discussing shadowwork and the Jungian archetypes, Jasper accidentally coined the term ego alteration. Through that discussion we ended up defining ego alteration as the process by which you proactively alter your conscious mind, your self-perception, and your thought-patterns. It’s not something to be taken lightly, as you’ll essentially be changing your sense of self by it. And it’s also not something everyone has the ability, desire, or drive to do. To integrate something into your sense of self, or to remove something that’s currently a part of your sense of self is serious business, and, like my hearttype creation, is something that should be thought about on a decades long timescale. I don’t have time to get in-depth about it here, but to consciously change your identity and your sense of self is definitely possible for some folks, and it’s nice to have a name for the concept.
Something else that came of that discussion is my own thoughts about how we define otherkin. The most common definition I’ve seen is “to identify, wholly or partially, as something nonhuman on a nonphysical level, by no choice of your own.” … I suggest we drop the last bit.
Okay, it’s a bit more complicated than just deleting a few words. In order to drop the “by no choice of your own” bit, without losing the meaning of otherkinity completely, and letting kin for fun take over, we’d need to rethink that entire definition.
Instead of defining otherkin by the amount of choice we had in the formation of our identity, I suggest we define otherkin by how integral our identities are to us. It was briefly mentioned on in one of the other panels (though I forget which one), but a pretty big source of conflict is that kin for fun just don’t understand the gravity of otherkin identities. If we define otherkinity as something that’s inseparable from who we are as individuals, it would not only make it clear to kin for fun that this is, well, not for fun. It would also get around the problem of people who worry that their identities might be invalid because they’ve made certain choices.
Your otherkinity is inherent, and by that I mean you would be a fundamentally different person if not for your kintype. At its most basic level, your kintype is what you recognize yourself to be. It’s the kind you belong to, rather than, or in tandem with, belonging to humankind. You kintype is an intrinsic part of you, and even if you could get rid of it, it would fundamentally change who you are is a person. If you chose not to be otherkin, you would also choose not to be you. In that sense, I suppose otherkinity is involuntary, in that you yourself can’t choose not to be otherkin, because as soon as you make that choice, you aren’t you. Though you could also argue that it is a choice because you wake up every day and choose to be you. And thus, the topic of choice leaves us running around in circles like it always has.
Being otherkin… being otherkind has never been about being forced to feel species dysphoria. It’s about being of another kind. It’s about knowing and recognizing humankind, and accepting that, in one way or another, that does not describe us.
And all this is not to say that copinglinking shouldn’t be a concept, but we need to rethink that as well. From the very few copinglink writings that exist, one topic I’ve seen several times is the idea of copinglinks becoming inseparable from you. This is not the point of links, and those who do go through a change like that find themselves more at home in the kin community than the link community. I don’t want to impose myself on linkers, but if we want these two words to make sense and have a use, we need to redefine both. I suggest defining copinglinks and otherlinks by their lack of integrality or by their ability to be dropped when necessary.
The line that has been drawn between otherkin and copinglinkers doesn’t help anyone as it is. There are far too many nonhumans who straddle the line, who feel torn between either community, or who only call themselves linkers because they feel pressured to do so. There are far too many nonhumans who don’t feel like they have a community they can call home.
So, I’m gonna propose a new and much more inclusive definition: To be otherkin is to identify as something nonhuman on an inherent or integral level. There you go, clean and simple. No more caveats or nested sentences.
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only-johnny-deppp · 3 years
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“I WILL NEVER STOP FIGHTING. I’LL NEVER STOP. THEY’D HAVE TO F*CKING SHOOT ME. ” ~ Johnny Depp (August 16, 2018)
🎆 Johnny WINS the right to sue Amber Heard 🎆
The Virginia Court revealed yesterday (August 17) that Amber Heard’s LOST her THIRD tentative to dismiss the $50 million defamation suit that she has trying to escape through the last years. This is a BIG WIN to Johnny that will continue the fight to sue Ms. Heard and move forward with his $50 million defamation after her hoax.
This time, Ms. Heard claimed that the fact that Johnny lost the libel lawsuit in the UK, last year, would give her a full victory in the USA upcoming trial, maybe even dismissing completely, but she forgot that the case in Virginia has different rules and that her tentative was wrong once she didn’t even understood. She believed that the The Sun’s winning was also valid to her, but she was wrong.  
> Explaining the mess and the judge’s decision:
On April 27, 2018, Dan Wootton wrote a piece for the “The Sun” calling Johnny a “wife-beater” as they claimed that there was “overwhelming evidence” that he attacked Ms. Heard during their relationship. At that time Dan Wootton titled his piece as “GONE POTTY How can JK Rowling be ‘genuinely happy’ casting Johnny Depp in the new Fantastic Beasts film after assault claim?”  
On June 1, 2018, Johnny sued the News Group Newspapers (the publisher of The Sun) and the executive editor Dan Wootton, for defamation in the U.K. court, but after the trials in July 2020, the judge Justice Nicol “find” that the allegations that Johnny was a “wife beater” was “substantially true” after believing in Ms. Heard’s lies and ignoring ALL of Johnny’s evidences (testimonies, Ms. Heard confessions and inconsistencies, evidences caught on videos, Johnny’s injuries, etc). So on November 2, 2020, the Judge in the UK litigation ruled against Johnny, allowing people and tabloids to continue the boycott and defamation, which led him to lose his role as Grindelwald on the “Fantastic Beasts 3”.
With this “winning” and Johnny’s lost, Ms. Heard tried to file her THIRD supplemental plea to dismiss the case, because now for her and her team it was clear that he was an abuser, and that both lawsuits center on the same allegations.
But the Fairfax County Chief, Judge Penney Azcarate, explained that although The Sun indeed “won” the legal battle, this not give her the right to dismiss the case, once HER statements are different from THE SUN’s statements:
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Defendant = Amber Heard x Plaintiff = Johnny Depp
Clarifying:
1) Ms. Heard and her team claimed “Privity” which stands for “a connection or mutual interest between parties”, the interests were the statements, but as said both The Sun and Ms. Heard had different interests:
The Sun's interests were to show that what they wrote was real, based on Ms. Heard’s statements, but Ms. Heard’s interests were to show that her statements were false once Johnny was not defamed by her Washington Post op-ed, published on December 2018, in which she described herself as a survivor of domestic abuse. 2) Ms. Heard and her team then claimed claimed that as the case had a final judgment, is no longer subject to appeal, but the Virginian Court explained that Johnny sued The Sun FIRST, BEFORE Ms. Heard release her op-ed. So the case in UK is TOTALLY DIFFERENT case from the case in the USA.
Ms. Heard and The Sun’s statements are NOT related in time. Once several months passed between the publications of the two statements: April 27, 2018 = The Sun’s “Wife-Beater” defamation post. June 1, 2018, = Johnny sued The Sun and Dan Wootton for defamation. December 2018 = Amber Heard’s published her op-ed. March 1, 2019 = Johnny sued Ms. Heard for defamation.
So, they ARE NOT related in motivation, neither in time. The only relation is the theme: the alleged abuses..
3) Not satisfied, Ms. Heard and her team, tried a third way to dismiss the case claiming that both courts should mutually recognize each other's legislative, executive, and judicial acts. In other words, if Johnny was found “guilty” in UK, he should be found “Guilty” in the USA as well, but as USA and England have different disclosure and evidentiary rules, the court also didn’t accept her plea, as once Ms. Heard was not a party in the U.K. trial (properly named as “Defendant”), she was not treated as one, and she was not subject to the same discovery rules applicable to named parties 
In conclusion, Ms. Heard tentative to deny Johnny’s right to maintain his lawsuit was REJECTED and her request for sanctions DENIED, the judge decided that it was MISGUIDED and that although she tried to support it based on a bunch of pre existing laws, IT IS NOT SANCTIONABLE.
> So what’s up for the USA trial?
Different from the UK Trials, in the USA Johnny has not brought suit against The Sun, instead he brought forth a DIFFERENT suit with a DIFFERENT defendant (Ms. Heard) based on different statements.  The upcoming trial, set for April 2022 is to Johnny clear his name suing Amber Heard in $50 million after her Washington Post op-Ed in which she wrote about surviving domestic abuse, that led Johnny to suffer with the last 5 years of boycotts and defamation after being falsely characterized him as a domestic abuser. Now Johnny has the right to raise further defenses, show his further evidences and attend in person in court. One of the HUGE EVIDENCES is that different from what Ms. Head said about she did not name him in her op-ed piece, it was already REVEALED that SHE with the help of the ACLU, indeed WROTE the piece DEFAMING Johnny. There are MULTIPLES EVIDENCES showing earlier drafts that went through multiple legal revisions, after her lawyer asks her to not mention Johnny by name or talks about their relationship. 
Amber Heard on Court: The op-ed is not about him. The REAL Drafts: “My then-husband”
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AMBER HEARD COMMITTED PERJURY! SHE IS GUILTY!
JUSTICE FOR JOHNNY DEPP I BELIEVE HIM JOHNNY DEPP IS INNOCENT AMBER HEARD IS AN ABUSER
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cheri-translates · 3 years
Text
Headcanon - When you’re angry and say “Don’t touch me”
Original title: 当你生气地说 “你别碰我”
Original writer: 池离子 (chi li zi)
[ VICTOR ]
You’re seated on the sofa, staring at the hour hand of the clock as it points to “1″, trembling with anger. 
Victor! He promised that no matter how busy he was, he’d return by 11pm. Yet, even now, he hasn’t even called to give you an explanation. His phone is turned off, you couldn’t find him at the office, and all the employees had already knocked off.
Feeling upset, you think about heading to bed, but your immense worry causes your hands and feet to turn cold, and the blanket is unable to keep you warm. As such, you have no choice but to send message after message to Victor. 
Since you once made a promise with him not to head out at night, you wait for him to return home obediently. With this thought in mind, you climb into bed, covering yourself up before breaking into tears.
Click.
Although separated by the bedroom door, you can still hear the sound of the main door opening gently, followed by the soft sound of leather shoes stepping on the wooden floor. You know that he has finally returned, but you have no intention of forgiving him for breaking his promise and not returning your calls.
You hear the rustling of clothes being removed, followed closely after by the sound of the bedroom door opening gently, the familiar footsteps nearing you quietly. The space beside you on the bed dips slightly, and you can feel Victor pulling the blanket from your face.
"Dummy... why are you covering yourself up? It’s so stuffy.”
He speaks softly.
When Victor's hand is about to touch your face, you suddenly grab the blanket and turn over, your back facing him. He’s clearly stunned, and then realises that you weren't asleep, and are even a little angry with him. So he shakes your shoulder and says a soft “I'm sorry”.
"Don't touch me!" You shrug his hand away roughly. Curling yourself up, you begin to sob again.
Victor wants to pull you up, but you avoid him with equal determination, before dropping a cold “don't touch me.”
Victor sighs, then explains himself in a fatigued voice. “Sorry. I returned very late, and it’s my fault. When I drove past the park after work, I saw someone selling the taiyaki that you like, so I bought one. I didn’t have a firm grip on my phone and it fell into the water, so I couldn't turn it on.”
"I was going to buy a new phone along the way, but Goldman suddenly rushed over, saying that E Company requested to terminate our partnership due to contractual issues. Because we were pressed for time, I drove to E City with Goldman to hold a meeting, and only managed to rush back at this time... I’m sorry."
After listening to these simple words, you can’t help but feel an ache in your heart. You sit up with guilt. Despite how tired Victor was, he still had to deal with you being angry when he returned home. This... is really sad.
You turn over to look at him. Realising that your eyes are red, he reaches forward to hug you gently, leaning against your ear to say another “sorry”.
There’s a paper bag sitting at the corner of the bed, and you’re able to see half of a cold taiyaki.
"I'm so tired... let me hug you for a while..."
He embraces you tightly, and you reach out to pat his hair, as if touching a helpless child. 
-
[ GAVIN ]
"Sis-in-law, he really doesn’t take advice. I already told him not to rush ahead, but he did it anyway. Now, he doesn’t even dare to step into the house, and it’s really difficult for us...”
You’re listening to the voice message sent by Eli. Gavin was injured during a mission, and was caught red-handed by you. Eli is the spy you’ve arranged to be by Gavin’s side.
“Eli, tell Gavin that I’ve fallen sick, and that I haven’t told him about it because I don’t know what illness it is yet.”
"Sis-in-law... is this... a good idea?"
"Trust me. I can give your team a brilliant tomorrow.”
"Thank you, Sis-in-law!”
Turning your phone off, you lie down quietly. Thirty minutes later, you hear Gavin opening the door while shouting your name. You listen as his footsteps draw nearer, finally pausing at your bedside.
“Wake up, are you okay? What happened? Are you okay?” Gavin reaches out, wanting to pull you over to himself. Enraged, you slap his hands away and yell at him. “Don't touch me!”
Sure enough, he stops, and you hear him sitting down. What follows after is a protracted silence.
Your thoughts: I’m doomed. Does he find me annoying?
Gavin’s thoughts: Something’s wrong. I definitely did something wrong. What did I do wrong? Anyway, I should admit my mistake first.
"Sorry... I was wrong..."
You hear him saying this softly.
"Why were you in the wrong?”
Gavin is dumbfounded.
"I don’t know...”
Despite your anger, your heart aches. As you sit upright, you hear him asking with concern, “Are you sick? How are you feeling now?”
"I'm not sick. I asked Eli to call you home. He said that you were badly hurt and was afraid to see me. Am I that fierce?"
Gavin shakes his head.
"I'm not afraid of you being fierce. You can scold me however you like, but I'm afraid that you’d get tired after scolding me, and feel sad when you see my injuries, so I didn’t dare to return."
Pearl-like droplets of tears fall again, and he hurries forward urgently, wiping them away.
"Don't cry..."
"Where did you get hurt this time... don't be afraid to let me see. What I’m most afraid of is not knowing anything. Don’t refuse to come home..." You’re held in his arms, sobbing as you finish your sentence in bits and pieces.
He coaxes you while rubbing circles on your back.
“Okay, okay... next time, I’ll come straight home. I promise."
[ A few days later ]
"Sis-in-law, didn’t you say there wouldn’t be a problem? Us poor kids had to carry weights on our backs while climbing up a mountain...”
-
[ LUCIEN ]
You dislike that bunch of female students! You! Really! Dislike! Them!
Under the pretext of the lecture, they’d look for Lucien. Once Lucien finishes his class, they would surround him, and Lucien would be in the middle, explaining the questions to them patiently.
It annoys you to death!
You’re nestled in the sofa watching a show. Having finished his shower, Lucien steps out of the bathroom, wiping his hair dry while walking towards you.
“MC, the bathroom is already warm and I've filled the tub with water. You can take a bath now.”
As if you couldn’t get angrier, you notice that the tone of voice he uses with you and the female students is obviously the same! So you purse your lips, ignoring him.
Thinking that your lack of response was because you couldn’t hear him over the sound of the TV, he sits beside you on the sofa, leaning in closer.
"Little Butterfly?”
You turn your head away, unwilling to give him any attention.
Assuming that you’re feeling shy, he reaches out to hug you, but is pushed away. He even hears this:
"Don't touch me!"
Lucien's hand stops in the air. For a long time, neither of you speak.
Just when you decide that you’re causing unnecessary trouble and turn to glance back at him, it’s as though you see the ears of a large canine drooping, its tail swinging slightly.
Why does he look wronged? Also, he's a fox, not a dog!
"MC... do you no longer like me?”
You watch as his handsome brows furrow. His movement of leaning over causes his bathrobe to reveal his neckline, and you’re cornered by him on the sofa.
"Don't touch..."
Before you manage to finish speaking, Lucien buries his face into the crook of your neck, his damp hair rubbing against your shoulder and earlobe gently. His hand reaches out to hug you tightly, and you can hear his muffled voice from the side. 
"Are you leaving me? Don't leave me..."
Huh? You heart aches instantly, and you pat his back. 
“Okay, okay... I’m not leaving you. I was just angry because those female students like you so much! I’m sorry for just now...”
"Next time... I’ll pay more attention... So MC, shall we take a bath together?”
"?"
Today has once again been part of Lucien’s plan.
-
[ KIRO ]
As you stare at the black circles underneath Kiro’s eyes, a certain thought drifts to your mind. 
He must have accepted too many job offers, then failed to get proper rest! 
You’ve already told him several times to reject work if he’s able to. After all, he should give himself a break. The last time, he was so tired that he fell asleep on the sofa in the makeup room and was caught red-handed by you. Now, the situation is not only worse, but he spends his free time accompanying you.
This is outrageous!
"Miss Chips! Let's watch a movie tonight! I starred in it! You’ve seen the trailer and poster, right?" Kiro picks up the cap which he uses as a disguise, then hops around you excitedly. But you just can’t ignore the blackish hue underneath his eyes.
Seeing that you’re ignoring him, he grins and steps forward, tugging on your hand. Fuming, you slap his hand away.
"Don’t touch me!”
Kiro’s hand pauses in mid-air. In just a few seconds, you hear the sound of sobbing. 
"Miss Chips..."
Turning your head to look at him, you see that tears are flowing down his cheeks. His eyes are red, and he’s wiping his teardrops with the back of his hand.
Is this the prowess of an actor? Being able to summon tears at will?
His sobbing turn even more aggrieved, and he carefully reaches out to tug on your hand again. Your heart aches, and you don’t fling it away this time.
"Miss Chips... do you hate me? Don't hate me... I work hard because I want you to lead a life which is worry-free, at least in terms of money... I love you so much..."
Ah! Stop talking! I’m a sinner!
You quickly give him a hug, patting him on the back.
“That will never happen! I like Kiro the most, but I’m very worried about your health. You’re still so young, but you’re this tired every day, so of course I’m distressed and angry. I don't hate you...”
He nods, planting his chin on your shoulder.
"I’m already very happy! I haven’t had to worry about money at all. You’ve worked so hard that I’ve got a surplus of wealth now! I want you to turn down a few projects and stay at home with me for a while, okay?”
You feel some movements on your shoulder. He’s nodding.
"Miss Chips... I like you so much..."
"I like you too!"
"Then you should kiss me now!"
He says with a grin.
?
(Did he follow Lucien’s study plan?)
-
[ SHAW ]
“Spring Thunder! Spring Thunder! You! Spit it out right now! Give it back to me!”
[Regarding the nickname] The CN version of MC’s “Mary Sue” alias is 刘春梅 - Liu Chun Mei (“Spring Plum”). Meanwhile, the CN community likes calling Shaw 刘春雷 - Liu Chun Lei (“Spring Thunder”)
Amid your blood-curdling screeches, Shaw dolidges your flailing hands and successfully chomps down your final strawberry cake.
...
With no intention of speaking to him anymore, you stagger a few steps, collapsing onto the sofa.
Shaw opens a bottle of Cola and a bottle of Pepsi in the kitchen, mixing his favourite, unique drink happily.
When Shaw returns with a large cup of mixed Cola and sees your current condition, he calls out to you twice. However, you have no intention of paying any attention to him considering your enraged and depressed state.
He sits beside you, patting your head. 
Your eyes are sharp, and you slap his hand away, saying the cruel words:
"Don’t touch me!”
In Shaw’s heart, he knows that something bad is about to happen. You didn’t call him “Stinky Brother” this time, which meant that you’re genuinely angry.
“No way, what’s up with you? You have such a reaction just because I ate your cake?”
You’re in no mood to argue with him. Your favourite strawberry cake no longer exists. Without it, you will crumble. 
"Spring Plum?”
"..."
He sets down the Cola, attempting to wrap an arm around your waist. But he’s slapped away once again.
"Don’t touch me!”
"..."
You watch as Shaw retracts his hand, gets up, grabs the keys, opens the door, then leaves. All in one swift movement.
Stinky Brother! He was obviously in the wrong, so why is he the one throwing a tantrum!
You close your eyes, missing that sweet and wonderful strawberry cake. Your mind has no room to think about Shaw.
After some time, you hear the sound of the door opening, followed by Shaw’s footsteps, then something being placed on the table. He sits beside you quietly.
Opening your eyes, you see that Shaw is seated, giving you a piteous look.
The scene before you resembles a world famous painting.
"Sister... I'm sorry... I went to buy a new cake..."
On the surface, you seem engrossed in your thoughts. However, your heart has long since been doing flips.
"Forgive me, okay...? Don’t give up on me just because of the cake...”
As though you’ve just survived a huge bloodbath, you sit up with a “hmph”, then pull the cake box over. Sure enough, there’s an entire cake, decorated with strawberries. 
Placated, you wrap Shaw in a hug and give him a kiss.
"What are you talking about, my beloved Shaw? Why would I not want you! I want you more than cake!”
Shaw's eyes darken.
"In that case... let me see just how much you want me..."
More translated and original works: here
[ Permission to translate ]
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池离子: OK! Just state that the source is LOFTER池离子. Also, if you’ve posted it, could you also take a screenshot for me? No need for the whole thing - just a little will do!
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zuluc · 3 years
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anonymous requested: i've been thinking about what to request for the past 3 days and i think i've finally got it. can i ask for kaeya or diluc with a crush that's a depressed bard that always composes sad songs and lyrics? here's the twist, though. their songs and lyrics start to cheer up as the two of them become closer friends!
pairing: diluc x gn! reader
style & genre: written; fluff
warnings: none
notes: i decided to do diluc for this one because I think it’d have a great impact on him as a person as well, and i’m here for more fluff with him 🥰 i made the lyrics myself for the sake of this fic please go easy on me all i know about music is playing the violin/viola also this is long
i changed the prompt a bit if that’s alright!
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“Who are you exactly?” Diluc eyes you strangely when you look at him with a blank stare. In one hand you have a notebook and in the other is a lyre. You walked in only moments ago, actively avoiding anyone’s eyes as they knew you weren’t from town. You just wanted to go straight to the owner of the tavern and hope to share what you had in that book of yours.
“A bard,” you say. You look around to see a few of the townspeople staring back while the others cheer happily with each other as if an exciting thing had happened. “Do you have room for a performance?”
Diluc raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. You didn’t appear to have any double meaning or ill intention in your words, rather, your eyes were just void of any glint of mischief he usually saw in a certain person. But to waltz in one day and ask for something like this so casually, you really weren’t from there.
“Sure, just don’t steal anything.” He is skeptical of you as he is of any one else but you didn’t need to know that. You were used to it after all. He directs you to the side of the bar that was supposedly the “performance stage” but it didn’t matter. Anywhere was fine with you.
The townspeople gradually stop their chatter as you quickly tune your lyre, playing a chord once the strings were ready. The tune that escapes into the air effectively silences any remaining voices. The song you were going to start wasn’t one they would usually hear in this city of freedom and apparently cheerfulness.
Your fingers hook at the strings, releasing them with ease as a soulful melody fills the entire tavern. The chord was of the lower register and hummed deeply. Diluc flicks his eyes over to you as he cleans a glass and sees your own eyes are closed. 
When the night has passed
For then will I be free
Will they see me trample dust
Or let me keep my feet
Your book is open and he can see the words you were singing on the pages. It looks like you just started this line of work given how many pages were left in that book, assuming it was your only one as all you came in with were those two items and a small bag of mora. 
He doesn’t notice how much of an effect your song had until he scans over the tavern patreons. Your voice carries through, swaying through the people to where it grazes a piece of their hearts to reminisce forlorn memories. But your words felt soulful as if they had come from your own experiences. A thought passes over his head which causes his heart to pang before quickly shaking it off when he realizes the feeling.
Ah, so you were this type of bard. 
Diluc just thinks he’ll only see you one time so he lets the thought pass through.
Once your song ends the drunk townspeople cheer loudly among themselves. You are taken aback by all the noise but bow politely to them for their reaction. You take your things as they call out for you to do another song and you shake your head.
“Maybe another time,” you say with slight sorrow to your face or words. They accept the answer and continue on their night and when you turn to leave, Diluc can’t stop the words that come out of his mouth. 
“Why not stay for a drink?” You look at him incredulously and he crosses his arms, “Call it payment for your services. They seemed to enjoy it.” You make cautious movement as you make your way to a stool. Diluc sets out an apple cider vinegar drink and you sniff at it. Once you take a sip you notice his face at the corner of your sight. The edge of his lip is slightly quirked up as he sighs while cleaning a glass.
It seems they weren’t the only ones who enjoyed the song.
--
Mondstadt was a city that was very welcoming in comparison to all the other places you spent time at. The people were either unwilling to hear your music or had particular reactions to the pieces you shared. To them, it seemed you didn’t understand that bar music was supposed to be lively and something to dance to. Not something to feel sad about.
But you wanted to share it anyways for your songs are one of the few things in life that you are proud of. One of the few things that have filled the emptiness of yourself that you lost those years ago and maybe, just maybe, sharing them will help you feel in some way. To you, these songs are sorrowful, but they shouldn’t just make people sad. That’s why you were quite surprised at the reactions at Angel’s Share  as opposed to those from other places.
They should elicit emotions of nostalgia. Or maybe, you just hadn’t found the right experience to make them happier.
--
You come back a few nights later and Diluc is working the bar yet again. When he lifts his head, his shoulders sag in relief seeing that it is you. Venti had come by a few times after hearing about you and kept pressing the owner about letting him on the stage as well. 
He was rejected numerous times in tandem with being asked to pay up for his drink tab.
The same book and lyre are still in hand when you head towards Diluc like you did that first night. He places the glass in his hands down and gives you a nod of his head, “Welcome back.”
“Thanks,” You look around and see that the tavern is even fuller than the last night you performed. It seems word had got around of your songs and they had all been waiting patiently for nights now. That was what an attendee had said to you outside the door anyways. “Do you mind?” You gesture to the stage.
“Go for it,” Any sense of caution that seeped through his words when you met him was near to nonexistent now. Maybe it was the impressions you left on the townspeople and their word of mouth the past few days. A depressing bard in the city of freedom in comparison to the other bards was news, especially when this bar had a wonderful voice to listen to.
The bar quiets again with the numerous greetings and cheers in seeing you up there. You flip open your book and thumb through the pages before settling on one song near the middle. It was a two-parter.
Your fingers pick at the strings lightly, slowly adding pressure thus causing the volume to increase subtly. Diluc shifts in his spot as he tries to focus on the tasks at hand but there really isn’t anything he is going to lose if he wants to listen.
I ran far in the depths of that same night
They chased me off as they truly had hoped
But I lost my way and wandered far
Met and saw numerous things was how I coped
The townspeople are yet again taken by your voice and melody that they had started to move with the music. Diluc decides to abandon his tasks for a little while, now aware how your music allows him to reflect as you intended. 
He sees these events before him. The death of one close to him and the loss of someone beside him whom he thought he could trust wholeheartedly. You stop singing but continue with plucking at the strings that calms the atmosphere. It is solemn and relaxing, almost putting the drunkest of the bunch to sleep but through sheer willpower they stay awake to listen on.
Happy and cheerful those that I have seen
But they were not accepting of me
Sharing the harsh reality of these mysteries
How will one otherwise feel so free?
The song ends and a round of cheers erupts, louder than the first night as there were more people. Diluc snaps out of his thoughts and wordlessly fixes you another drink that you take again, albiet still a bit shyly.
“Your lyrics,” Diluc begins and you tense at the sound of his voice, “From experience I assume?” He is straightforward, you should know this from the gossip around town. There was nothing in it for you to hide anything from him or anyone else so you tell him.
“Yes. That’s what makes good music, does it not?” You take a sip of the beverage. It must be a different one as it is much sweeter than the apple cider vinegar. “When you can relate to the words yourself. I simply want to share that with the people for reasons even I am unsure of.”
Diluc hums and doesn’t look you in the eye for his next words.
“I see. Your voice is quite nice.”
--
You both managed to continue with light chatter that night and he learns that you are staying in Mondstadt for quite a bit. You had no set plans to be in a specific place at any specific time so what was the rush to leave? Among this he is aware of how you speak. There is an ambiguous sorrow in your words from the effect of your past, he believes, that share no optimism but realistic choices that would completely stop the conversation. 
But he was the same so it continues. 
His past is the reason for his own apprehension when speaking with strangers but you were a little different. You outright told him your objective and you were just a bard who wanted to share their experience. 
You learn this of him and it was the first time that you felt light when speaking with someone.
--
“Y/n!” They learn of your name after the third night you show up which is another few nights after the second. Some take your music as a lighthearted joke in contrast to their free lives while others pay close attention to the words and sway with the tune.
You give a small grin in acknowledgement before sitting in the stool in front of Diluc. Throughout the weeks you had gotten to know each other a little better besides the titles of The Sorrowful Bard and Diluc of Mondstadt. You were just y/n and he was Diluc.
You always make a point to talk to him before performing, giving a small insight into the meaning behind your words. Last time replayed the sleepless night and doubts as you wandered Teyvat and the time before that was a retelling of an animal that accompanied you for the last months of its life.
“It knew it had to go yet it decided to follow me, spreading that sadness of loss to me as I was attached.” You said to him that night with dry eyes.
All you tell him is that this song is a little different from your other ones.
He shows more of himself to you, actions he wouldn’t typically show to others if it weren’t for a certain motive or purpose. But you were not threatening nor wanted something from him. Diluc put a bit of trust in you for that.
You never sing more than one song each night because you want them to take in the words of each song carefully. Like that animal, you wanted to share the sadness but allow them to see the great memories.
This night contains your fourteenth or fifteenth song and it is fairly new. You wrote this in the early hours of the morning with a newfound emotion bustling inside your chest. You were scared when waking up, but felt reassured when there was a hint of melancholy there among an unfamiliar emotion.
The tavern goers look at you with hopeful and excited eyes. You feel warmth in your heart as you remember the times a few of them have come up to you telling you that your music has made it easier to sleep. That your music is inspiring; sad, but inspiring.
You play a chord and Diluc raises a brow in hearing a lighter tone. Underlying is that first low tone in your first night, indicating that you plan to keep a sense of your usual. 
Then I stumbled in, seeing the light there
Unexpected welcoming I was greeted by
At first there was nothing then passed a while
Uprising something foreign for me to finally cry
Even if your eyes are trained to the floor, they are in his general direction. You didn’t know what you were feeling and you sure didn’t want to push it. 
He has his entire attention directed at you. 
You pluck higher notes much different from the chords you were accustomed to, messing up in a few that no one seemed to notice. You straighten yourself and look over the entire bar, settling your eyes on him for a bit too long for him to notice.
And so thankful am I
To be able to do such as that
And never is it unwelcomed
The beats in my soul are no longer flat
Your eyes stay staring at him and the cheers drown out. Diluc’s hand raises a few centimeters from the counter but you have already picked up your book and instrument and left.
The drink is untouched as he follows after you, thanks to Charles.
--
You feel like you can’t breathe but there is physically nothing blocking your airway. You assumed it was due to the collection of body heat in the tavern but even the cool night air did nothing to soothe the burning in your face. 
Why did I look at him? Why was he looking back? What does this mean?
“Y/n!” You gasp at the sound of his voice and as you turn around you hope that it was just in your head. Your mouth opens and closes but you can’t speak. you don’t know what to say.
Truthfully, he doesn’t either. 
Diluc didn’t know what to expect when you told him it would be different. He definitely didn’t expect for the song to be about him. He had deducted this reasoning and confirmed it when your eyes met and to you leaving.
In that room he felt the same: his face was warm and his heartbeat picked up when you lingered your gaze on him. He didn’t know what this feeling was either. 
Neither of you are speaking, the breeze brushing through.
“I’m sorry!” You say, bowing your head so he cannot see the tears of confusion, frustration, and something else running down your face.
“Why are you apologizing?” He is near you now and he can feel you jump at his touch on your shoulder. When you don’t push him off he moves his gloved hand to cup your face to lift it up. This is the first time he’s seen you cry. 
Ironic, given your songs. 
Diluc lightly presses his thumb to your cheek to brush off a tear. “Apologizing is for if you’ve done something wrong. You have done nothing of the sort.”
“Are you sure?” You say without hesitation. It is an automatic response, built upon the hardening of your heart and soul through your travels. Diluc chuckles, a small smile on his face.
“I am sure.”
--
You strum lightly, a newfound lightness to you that almost everyone has noticed. Your songs still have that sorrowful reality to them but at the end they have changed. Seeing more of the graceful and fulfilling beauty of life.
Diluc still fixes you drinks after every performance and indulges you in conversation. This time around, however, he leans in closer and places his hand closer to yours.
And you are thankful to feel that emotion.
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retrievablememories · 3 years
Text
U.N.I. | doyoung (m)
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title: college love pairing: doyoung x black!reader genre: fluff, smut, college!au request: There’s suddenly a foreigner in his class (University of course). He teases her and always seems to stick to her side. The kick is, is that she finds out he likes her by eavesdropping [I wanted to give you room to flex that brain of yours bc your writing is like magic] word count: 6.3k warnings: emetophobia warning, alcohol use, sub!doyoung, handjob, oral (female receiving...and a little bit male receiving?), thigh riding a/n: shout out to anon for the new title idea cuz i be struggling lmaoo
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Doyoung is curious. 
You are new to his class, having joined a couple weeks after the semester had already begun. You’re certainly not the first foreigner he’s seen, considering that the university is an international school that sees a wealth of students from other countries every year.
But still. He’s curious.
You both sit in the same row, with you a few seats down from him. That makes it harder for him to sneak glances over at you without being too obvious or receiving weird looks from the other students who think he’s staring at them. Mostly, he contents himself with hearing your voice when you answer questions or occasionally talk to your other classmates.
Doyoung tries to think about how he might also get to talk to you without seeming weird or too random, which makes him feel even sillier because he usually doesn’t have this much anxiety over talking to new people. However, he doesn’t have to ponder over it for much longer when the professor decides to split each row into groups for an in-class assignment.
You and him and three other people from your row gather together in a circle, and there are a few awkward introductions—as is the norm with classmates who haven’t truly interacted with each other before.
“I’m Y/N,”  you introduce yourself, glancing at the others sitting across from you.
They nod in acknowledgement, and Doyoung responds with, “It’s nice to meet you.” He makes sure to give his best welcoming smile, which you return.
Despite all five of you being in the same group, it soon becomes apparent that Doyoung is the best ally to have on your team. The other three students couldn’t be less motivated about the assignment if they tried, mostly gleaning answers off the two of you.
By the time the period ends, you are more than ready to get the hell out and go to your next class. You can only roll your eyes at knowing they’ll get credit for work they barely even helped with. However, your bad mood is momentarily interrupted by your only other partner who bothered to help—Doyoung.
“Thanks for that,” he says as you pass by his desk. You stop and turn around, raising your eyebrows. “You know, for...that.” Doyoung shoots an icy look towards the other people in your row. Only one of them meets his eyes, though they pointedly try to pretend like they never saw him as they gather their things and leave.
You watch the awkward exchange and can’t help but laugh. “Oh yeah, no problem. It’s nice to have someone who actually cares enough to help.”
Doyoung instantly thinks your laugh is pretty, and he decides he wants to hear more of it.
“You know, if you ever want to work together again, I’m here,” he suggests. “I mean...you’re new here, right? So if you need any help with anything...just ask.”
You smile, grateful for the offer. “Oh really? That’s nice of you. I might just have to take you up on it...because I really don’t know a soul here.” You check your phone. “Shit, I should be getting to my next class. See you later. Thanks again!”
Doyoung waves as you leave the classroom, wanting to say more but knowing you’re busy, and he hopes that you really do consider his offer.
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The next class doesn’t involve groups this time, much to your relief—and Doyoung’s as well. Doyoung still finds a way to talk to you without having to do group work, though; and the best part about it is that he doesn’t even have to do anything.
“Hey Doyoung,” you say, coming to stand by his desk at the end of class. He perks up in his seat at your presence, giving you an amiable smile.
“Hey Y/N, how are you?”
“I’m fine, though I do feel a little lost at the moment.”
Doyoung’s eyebrows draw together. “What’s the matter?”
You laugh and shake your head, a little embarrassed to tell him. “Okay, like, I have a map of the campus and everything, but I keep getting lost trying to go to classes and it’s kind of annoying...plus I don’t need a bunch of tardies in my first month here.”
“Your professors still care about that kind of stuff?”
“Yep. Unfortunately, I didn’t get any of the cool ones who don’t give a fuck about someone coming in late—for a class I’m paying for. Amazing.”
Doyoung smirks. “So you need a tour guide, is that it?”
You shrug. “If you’re up for it. I don’t wanna take up too much of your time, you know, if you’re busy. This campus is unnecessarily huge.”
Doyoung gathers his bag and stands to his feet. “Of course I can help the damsel in distress.”
“Damsel, huh?” You snort. “What’re you then, a knight in shining armor?”
“I can be if you want me to be.”
“You a comedian or something?” You give him a look between incredulity and amusement, a bit surprised at him being so brazen. “Let’s go then, brave knight. Help me find out where the Student Affairs office is before I completely lose my mind.”
Just as you asked, Doyoung leads you right to the Student Affairs office—and to a bunch of other places on campus, which you’re not entirely sure you’re going to remember. At least you have him to walk you through it until you memorize everything. 
Finally, you both stop in a grassy area of campus with a few benches nearby, standing under the shade of a tree. Doyoung turns to you. “I’ve dragged you all over this campus now, so I guess the least I could do is buy you a coffee or something.”
“You did it because I asked! But...if you’re determined to pay, I won’t stop you.” You laugh.
“Do you remember where the coffee shop is?” Doyoung asks, like he’s a professor giving you a pop quiz. You sweat because you’ve already forgotten, and you screw your face up in mock concentration.
“Umm...that way?” You point in a random direction and he chuckles when it’s wrong. He grabs your arm and guides it to the right direction, which is behind you—right in the area you just came from.
“No, it’s here! Let’s go. We’re gonna need to spend some more time out here later.”
By the end of the day, you’re surprised by how comfortable you already feel around Doyoung despite only talking to him for the first time in your group assignment the other day. He appears to think the same of you, if him sliding you his number is any indication.
“I know we have a class together, but if you want to talk outside of that…you know where to reach me now.” He taps his fingers against the table you’re both sitting at. “I think you’ll definitely be needing another tour soon.”
“I tried my best.” You sigh dramatically, placing your chin in your hand. “But thanks. I’ve got your number now, so don’t feel a way if you see me bothering you more often.” You flash him a teasing grin.
Doyoung shakes his head goodnaturedly at your statement, taking another sip of his coffee. “Somehow, I don’t think I’ll mind.”
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Though you do call on Doyoung to help you get around campus a few more times, he ends up hanging around you a lot more often outside the guise of being your personal tour guide.
Whether it’s to go to the library, visit a fast food place off campus, or even see some sports game, he’s never far away. During your first month of being at school, he’d simply explained it as wanting you to get familiar with the sights in and around campus so you wouldn’t get lost again. However, it quickly culminates in him randomly asking you to go places just because he can—and because he wants to.
You’re glad for his company—much more than you’d let him know, not wanting to come off as too clingy. Though Doyoung seems like the type to be all about his studies—which he mostly is, and it’s not a bad thing—he also knows how to have fun and how to make you laugh, even explaining jokes in Korean that go over your head. 
He makes you feel remarkably less alone while adjusting to living in another country, far away from home. It also doesn’t take you long to find out that he’s good for teasing you to no end, which often makes you want to roll your eyes or flick him in the forehead, but even his banter reminds you of your friends back home. You’re incredibly grateful for that small piece of familiarity.
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After a couple months of finally settling into the campus life, you, Doyoung, and a few of his friends decide to go to a frat house party, along with Seulgi—a girl you’re becoming close to in another one of your classes. You’re not entirely sure what to anticipate, but the experience is quite similar to what you’d expect to see back in your home country—the same drunk dancing, endless shots of alcohol, loud music, and men who are far too grabby for their own good.
Speaking of that last point…
You and Seulgi dance together amongst a flood of bodies, which is fun for a while until random men keep trying to drag you away from each other to dance with them instead; some of them are more agitated than others about being rejected.
“College guys are dangerously horny.” Seulgi laughs, though she also cuts her eyes at a small group of men nearby who’re giving you both ravenous looks.
“Kinda wish they’d go be horny somewhere else,” you say, and then you roll your eyes when yet another hand brushes against your waist. You turn to see who the culprit is this time, but it’s only Doyoung, and you’re palpably relieved to see him. “You’re back! Seems like you’d disappeared forever.”
“Yes, I am. Someone’s excited. Did you miss me that bad?” He smirks.
“Oh, please. I’m just happy you’re here so the creeps will go away.”
When you say this, his expression instantly morphs into one of recognizable concern. “Is someone bothering you two?”
“Not really, these dudes are just weirdly pushy.” Seulgi giggles, trying to wave it off. The last thing you all need is to start an argument or a full-out fight with one of these frat guys.
“Forreal. Therefore, you should act like you’re my boyfriend until the night is over.” You declare this unabashedly, linking your arm with Doyoung’s. For a second, he seems flustered at your suggestion, and then his face settles back into the same cool countenance as before.
“Fine, since you want to be next to me so much.” You elbow him at that. “That’s a good save for you, but what about Seulgi?” Doyoung asks, looking at the other girl. She is unbothered, though, and casually grabs his other arm.
“Poly relationship. Ever heard of it?” Now he really is flustered, and you laugh out loud at his expression.
You spend a good portion of the night like that, all three of you linked together as the perfect “throuple,” with some people at the party giving you interesting looks. When Johnny sees you all, he throws you and Doyoung an expression reminiscent of a grin—but somehow more devious—and Doyoung only twists his mouth up in a sneer. You don’t know what any of that interaction means, though it makes you wonder.
Seulgi eventually decides she prefers Johnny to be her fake boyfriend instead of Doyoung and goes off with him to do...whatever it is they went to do. You’re sure you can take a guess, though.
After the other two take their leave, you and Doyoung eventually end up on the back porch. It’s a little cooler out here than it is inside, though still a bit crowded with lingering couples and groups. You’re both bunched up in a small corner against the side of the house, leaning over the railing to look out at the backyard—which is mostly just trees and bushes.
“Well, how are you enjoying your first college party?” he asks, casting a questioning glance your way.
“It’s fun. I think I could see why some people end up spending all their time on this instead of studying, ha.”
“Hey, don’t become a party girl ‘cause I’m not gonna do all your homework for you.” Doyoung snickers.
“Oh, Doyoung. I wouldn’t expect you to, you’re not even good at science.”
He sucks his teeth and tucks his chin into his arms to hide the grin playing across his face. It’s quiet again for a little while, or as quiet as it can be with the others on the porch talking and laughing.
Doyoung peeks at you from underneath his fringe and thinks about what he should say next. Something like...not that, but…well, what if he did? Would it be terrible if he said it now, right here at a crowded frat party on some rickety back porch? Maybe, but…
Doyoung pushes himself off the railing and looks at you, tracing your profile with his eyes. Maybe the alcohol has taken more effect on him than he initially thought. “Y/N…” he starts, and you glance at him.
Just then, a red-faced dude who’s obviously incredibly smashed stumbles over to where you two are and promptly throws up on the floor. Some of it gets on Doyoung’s shoes, which causes him to jump back and curse loudly.
“Are you a fucking idiot?!”
“That’s disgusting,” you groan, turning your face away from the mess. You’d probably laugh if it weren’t so gross—and wasn’t right next to where you were standing. The guy doesn’t pay either of you much attention, though, because he’s too busy slumping against the railing like he’s going to pass out. Maybe somebody should worry about that, but it won’t be either of you.
“Ugh, for fuck’s sake...come on.” Doyoung takes your hand and carefully steers you around the mess, heading back indoors and maneuvering through the thick of the party. You’re not sure where he’s going at first until you both end up in some cramped bathroom, with him pulling his shoes off and running them under the tub faucet. You lean against the door, feeling like you need to stand guard so no drunken couples will burst in, even though it’s already locked. You’re not quite sure why he brought you along for this little ride, but you’re not complaining; it’s better than being left outside.
You look at him sitting on the edge of the tub and angrily wiping his shoes as best he can with toilet paper, and you giggle, though you try to keep it quiet. However, you can’t stop more giggles from pouring out at his comically pissed-off expression. Doyoung looks up at you with his eyebrows creased, a confused and irritated look coloring his features. “What’s so funny?”
You shake your head, unable to speak for a few moments. Doyoung tilts his head to the side and looks at you impatiently while you try to catch your breath, though his upset face only makes you want to laugh more. “I’m sorry, but from where I’m standing...th—this is pretty hilarious.” You burst out into laughter again. “I’m locked in a bathroom with you at a college party while you scrub vomit off your shoes. If this doesn’t make us friends for life, nothing will.”
To your surprise, he actually cracks a cynical grin after a few moments, shaking his head and sighing. His shoulders heave with the gesture. “I hate university sometimes.”
Doyoung tries not to think too deeply about that “friends for life” comment, though to his irritation, it stays in his head for days after the party. Even after he’s nearly forgotten about the shoe incident.
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You go to the library one night to find an academic journal for an upcoming paper. You’re not happy about having to make the trek, especially in this digital era when everything imaginable is usually readily accessible online, but it is what it is.
At night, the library becomes more of a hangout spot rather than a place for studying, and you don’t entirely expect to get much reading done in there. You’re hoping there’s an empty room or something you can duck into to take some quick notes on the information you need.
Finding the journal takes a bit of searching, but you finally locate it on a shelf near the back of the library. You’re about to leave the aisle and find somewhere to read it when a couple of people walk into the aisle in front of yours. By their voices, you know it’s Doyoung and Johnny.
You decide to peek over and say hi, but before you can get to the end of the aisle, you hear their heated conversation. You stop in your tracks and listen, which you probably shouldn’t be doing; but you’re not sure if you want to interrupt this talk they’re having once you hear what they’re saying, either.
“You’re being ridiculous. Just tell her!” Johnny hisses under his breath like he wants to talk louder but doesn’t want to be too distracting in the library. Ever so courteous of him, but you doubt anyone else really cares at the moment.
“Hyung, not everybody is like you. It’s not easy to just go up to someone and say you like them.”
“You act as if you’re gonna be talking to a stranger. She knows you and you know her, you hang out all the time. It’s more likely that she does like you than she doesn’t.”
“...You really think that?”
“She lets you tell all your unfunny jokes without much complaint, so yeah, I’d say she must be head over heels for you.”
“Shut the hell up. Unfunny jokes? You’re one to talk!”
You listen to the conversation intently, wondering who this mystery girl Doyoung apparently likes could be. He’s never told you about having a crush on anyone, nor has he made it obvious that he likes someone else. Although you know he has other friends—Johnny’s obviously one of them—you’re not sure what girl he hangs out with all the time besides you.
Johnny chuckles. “Don’t be mad that Y/N laughs at my jokes more than yours.”
Your eyebrows raise at this. Wait. What does this conversation have to do with you? Unless.
“Yeah, you’re supposed to laugh at a clown,” Doyoung retorts.
“Whatever, Doyoung. You just do what I told you. It’s seriously so sad watching you pine over Y/N like there isn’t an easy solution for this.”
You’re reeling with shock by now, but their voices are also getting closer to the end of the aisle like they’re about to walk into the very one you’re hiding out in. You run away before they can spot you, though you do end up drawing a few peculiar glances from some other library goers.
You eventually find a quiet, uncrowded space to sit down and take notes in, though you can hardly concentrate on the work at hand with this new information in your mind. Doyoung likes you? Doyoung likes you. Then that must be why he always messes with you, and why he’s practically been glued to your side since you got there.
Your hand tightens and loosens around your pen repeatedly as you mull over this knowledge. The longer you think about it, though, a smirk grows on your face.
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The week after, you and Doyoung have one of your regular study sessions together. You’ve dressed up for it more than you normally would—the same thing you’ve been doing throughout the week, too. Even if Doyoung doesn’t know what you know, you get a bit of fun out of dressing up to catch his eye. And it definitely works.
He always steals glances at you when he thinks you aren’t paying any attention, and you get infinite amusement out of whipping your head around to try to catch him in the act. The light blush on the tips of his ears and his startled bunny look is worth it every time.
“You got so dressed up just to study? You’ve really been going all out this week,” Doyoung comments as you sit down at your usual table in the library. He gives a small smirk as he scans your new outfit for today. He does this as if he’s only teasing and evaluating your clothes, puckering his lips in concentration, though it’s also an excuse to check you out.
“You could just say ‘you look so fucking fine this week, Y/N.’ I know you want to say it, anyway.” Doyoung’s cheeks flush a little, and he shakes his head.
“You’re something else. Okay, you look pretty. Does that satisfy you?”
“Well. You forgot the ‘fucking,’ but I’ll let it slide.”
You both get into your work and a calm quiet settles between you, punctuated with you occasionally asking each other questions about the assignment. At some point, you grow a little bored with staring at the text for so long, and you stop and simply look at Doyoung sitting across from you in one of his favorite hoodies and his glasses. Something tender rises in your chest, a sensation you hadn’t quite given a name to until now, and you put your cheek in your hand, grinning slightly.
“I wonder why someone like you doesn’t have a girlfriend yet.”
Doyoung looks up as if he’s not sure if you’re talking to him, then furrows his eyebrows. “Someone like me?”
“Aw, you know, you’re handsome and caring and smart, and you can even be a little bit funny—even though you get on my nerves sometimes.” Doyoung rolls his eyes at the last part, though you know he’s preening at your compliments.
“I don’t know, I’m busy with studies.”
“But isn’t there even one person you might like? Or might be interested in?” Doyoung’s not looking at you anymore, his eyes dropping back down to instead focus on his book, but you notice how his fingers tighten around the textbook’s edges.
“Um—well, I haven’t really thought about that…”
“Really? No one in your dorm or your classes has caught your eye?”
Doyoung shifts a little and clears his throat. He shakes his head in response to your question, though the movement is hesitant. “What about you?”
“Changing the subject, huh? Excellent method of evasion…” You flip a page in your notebook, pointedly avoiding Doyoung’s gaze even though he’s peering up at you again. You wait with your lips clamped together, trying not to laugh as his expression grows more impatient.
“Well?! Aren’t you going to answer, after forcing me to?”
“I will when you tell the truth.” You slap the notebook closed, which causes him to jump, and this time a laugh does slip out. Doyoung’s eyes dart around your small section of the library like there might be someone else listening, or like he’s searching for a prank camera.
“The truth about what? I already told you!”
“Then what about what you told Johnny?”
Doyoung freezes for a moment, and various emotions flit across his face. He finally settles firmly on embarrassment and disappointment. “...He told you? I’m going to kill him.” His voice is softer now, like he would disappear completely if he could.
“No, I—okay, don’t get mad at me, it’s not like I did it on purpose, but I heard you two talking in here a week ago…”
“Oh...shit. You—you were there? And you didn’t say anything?!”
“Yeah. Not very discreet, huh? Maybe you want to do that in your dorm room next time.” You’re still smiling. Doyoung shifts nervously again, as if he just wants to get up and run the hell out.
“So, um…you know, then.”
“Yep.”
“If you don’t like me, you can just say so,” Doyoung blurts out. “I...it’s fine. I don’t expect anything of you, so we can really just forget all about this. I promise I won’t make things weird, Y/N. I just...I just found myself really liking you as we got to know each other.”
“You can’t make things weird when you’re already weird.” You giggle and place your hand over Doyoung’s, grasping his fingers. “So...let’s date, then.”
He looks at you questioningly, surprise taking over. “Wait, you’re serious?”
“I’m serious.” And now you’re a little embarrassed yourself, but you continue, “Doyoung...I like you too. I guess I don’t totally hate all your teasing. But don’t get cocky about it.”
Doyoung rearranges your hands so your fingers are now laced together. A relieved smile makes a home on his lips. “Well, too late. Now you’re never going to hear the end of it.”
“Oh, I can’t wait.” Your response is sarcastic, but the smile on your face is totally genuine.
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That weekend, Johnny leaves the dorm to go visit some of his other friends in town, which means Doyoung will have the room all to himself for those few days. Normally his plans would consist of studying, trying to catch up on sleep, or seeing what his other friends are up to, but with you as his new girlfriend, he wants to spend that time together.
“So, this is your dorm,” you say, holding Doyoung’s hand as he leads you into his shared dorm with Johnny.
“Home away from home, I guess,” he says, leading you over to his bed so you can sit down. Before he can let go of your hand, you tug him to you and gesture for him to bring his face closer to yours, like you’re going to whisper something to him.
“What is it?” he asks. He’s quickly silenced by you pushing your lips against his in a kiss. When you both separate, it’s reluctant, and Doyoung pecks your mouth once more before straightening up again. You laugh at the slightly goofy grin on his face.
“What should we do?” you ask, getting more comfortable on his bed and leaning against the wall.
“I had movies in mind, but we can do anything you want.”
“Movies are fine! Hurry and start it up, I’m gonna get cold without you beside me.”
Doyoung gives an overexaggerated cringe, and you hide your face. “And you complain about me being cheesy?!”
You both make it through two and a half movies before you start getting antsy with sitting in the same spot for so long. Doyoung is still lying calmly beside you, his arm around your shoulder and the other behind his head as he continues watching the movie. Deciding to act on a whim, you abandon all pretenses of watching any more of the movie and swing your legs over his own so you’re sitting in his lap. When you situate yourself in his lap, he seems a bit starstruck, as if he wasn’t expecting this to happen—like, ever.
“Y/N…” Doyoung’s voice is surprisingly soft, like the day you revealed your feelings for each other. It’s a noticeable departure from his usual demeanor. He blinks at you for a couple moments.
“What?” you say innocently, copying his actions and blinking back at him.
Doyoung swipes his tongue across his lips, though it’s more of a nervous gesture than anything else. “You’re...you know.”
You chuckle. “‘You know’? Let’s use our words.”
“You’re, uh...s-soft,” is what he stammers out, like it was the only thing he could think of at the last minute.
“And you should be hard, but you’re not yet. So let’s fix that. If you want to?” You quickly tack the last sentence on, trying to give him an out if he really doesn’t want this. However, the hands that suddenly go to your hips make you think otherwise.
“Do it, then.” He provokes you, trying to regain his usual confidence, though it still comes out less forceful than intended.
You bring your hand to his crotch and palm him over his pants, and Doyoung takes a deep breath. You bring your lips to his, kissing him deeply and adding to the pleasant feeling. He kisses you back eagerly, flexing his hands on your hips and gripping you more tightly. You end up making out like that for a little while, and he grows underneath your palm as you tease him.
Eventually, you want more than simply feeling him over his sweatpants and pull them down, exposing his bulge. You don’t touch him for real, not just yet; instead, you trace your finger along the shape of his dick underneath the material of his boxers. Doyoung whimpers against your lips at that touch, very quietly, but audible enough for you to hear it over the TV in the background.
“Don’t get all sensitive on me now.” You pull away from his mouth and laugh. “What happened to all that teasing you love to torture me with?” You drag his underwear down so you can release his member, which is still growing underneath your caresses. Precum is already beading at the tip, flushed with need. Doyoung looks down at your hand holding his dick and worries his lip as you begin stroking him earnestly now.
He leans his head back against the wall, and you watch his throat work as he swallows and tries to keep his sounds quiet. The soundproofing in these dorms certainly isn’t the best; the people on the other side of the wall have kept him awake enough nights to know that. The few moans he does let go are low and pretty and soft, and they fit him perfectly.
Though you are stroking him mostly for his own pleasure, you do take the time to explore his dick while you have it in your hand—running your finger over a vein that stands out against the hot skin, sliding his precum between your fingers and using it to get the rest of his shaft slick. You take your time with him, but he doesn’t seem to mind the leisurely pace.
“Do you wanna come in my hand?” you ask him, and his body tenses as you reach further down to tease his balls. Another bead of precum runs down his shaft.
“That would be a waste,” Doyoung huffs, and he shifts his leg a little so his thigh is tucked between your legs now, your heat pressing right down on him. He moves his thigh back and forth slowly across you, and you let out a long, shaky breath at the way the muscles of his leg flex and release against your clit.
“Then where do you wanna do it?” You still your movements on him for a few seconds but keep your thumb on his tip so you can tease the sensitive slit there, and another choked groan comes from him.
“T-take a guess,” he says, and pulls on your hips again so he can drag your pussy over his thigh more firmly. The friction makes you whine.
“Maybe I should just make you cum like this, since you seem more interested in making me ride your leg.” You go back to steadily stroking his cock, tightening your grip on him. His mouth drops open a little at your actions.
“Y/N,” he whispers breathlessly, and lifts one hand to pull at your sweater. “Take this off.”
“Then take yours off.” Doyoung strips his sweater off as soon as you say it and waits for you to do the same. His mouth goes to your breasts once they’re free. You grin at the pleasurable sensation and run your hand through his hair, pushing him closer to your chest. Your other hand goes back to his dick, and it twitches when you make contact. “I really think you could cum just like this, with you sucking my tits and me jerking you off. Wouldn’t you like that, Doie?”
Doyoung’s face flushes at that claim, though he doesn’t deny it. He simply keeps sucking at your nipples and leaving marks across your chest, flexing his thigh against you for added stimulation.
You want him to come first, so you spit in your hand for more lube and stroke him faster, the slick sound of your hand on his cock filling your ears. His moans are more frequent now, though he still tries to hide them; all the while, you try to pull more out of him. If the people next door know what’s going on, they’ll just have to enjoy the free entertainment.
“Y/N,” he pants against your skin, and his body tenses up more underneath you. You pull his head away from your chest so you can tuck your face into his neck, placing your lips over his beating pulse and feeling the way his muscles jump under the slight touch of your mouth.
“You don’t wanna come in my hand, right? Where do you want it, then?” You keep your lips close to his ear and slow your pace to make sure he doesn’t come too soon.
“I…um—”
“Don’t be shy now, you’re about to come, aren’t you?” You twist your hand over his tip and he groans low in his throat; the sound vibrates across your lips.
“I...in your mouth.”
You sit back to look at him, grinning devilishly. “So that’s what you like? Fine then, baby boy.” You remove yourself from his thigh, which is noticeably damp now, and position yourself between his legs with the tip of his cock pointed towards your mouth. You lean forward a bit to take the head between your lips, rubbing your tongue against the sensitive underside of it, and Doyoung comes quick with a soft cry. His cum floods over your tongue in thick, salty waves, and you keep sucking the tip until he has no more to give.
You get back onto the bed after you’ve swallowed everything, and before you know what’s happening, Doyoung has turned you on your stomach and is pulling your panties and sweatpants down in one fell swoop. “Doyoung—” Your sentence breaks when he lifts your hips up and his tongue parts your lower lips, sliding through the slickness and pushing into your hole. Your words melt into a moan as you arch your hips more to get closer to his face.
“Doyoung, y-yes, please—” You curl your fingers in the fabric of his comforter, panting harshly against the material as Doyoung dips his fingers and tongue into you like he’s starving. His tongue on your clit is maddening, circling back and forth and making your legs shake as you try to balance yourself in this position he’s tugged you into.
His fingers find what they’re looking for quickly and he teases your g-spot, thrusting into it only sometimes and leaving you wanting all the other times. In the very back of your mind, you wonder if what he said about being too studious for relationships is true, because how else would he have learned to do all this? God.
When you get close to coming, Doyoung takes some mercy on you and crooks his fingers into that soft spot more consistently now, and you cry out as you tighten around his fingers. It’s beautifully, wonderfully satisfying. The soft sounds he releases while he eats you out make you even weaker, as if he can’t hide just how turned on he is from tasting you.
Your climax hits you suddenly, and by the end of it you are laughing softly with the intoxication of how good you feel, how good he’s made you feel. When he finally pulls back from you, you let your body fully collapse against the small mattress, and Doyoung rests his head against your thigh momentarily, as if he himself is exhausted.
“I...wanted to do that for a while,” he says, and you can’t see his face but you think he must be blushing, with how sheepishly he admitted it.
It takes a bit of shuffling but you eventually end up lying side by side, stripped bare and looking up at the ceiling. The movie has long gone off, and there’s nothing but Netflix’s slideshow of new shows and movies playing on the screen now.
After a few more moments of nothing but the sound of heavy breaths, you say, “We are having round two, like right now.” 
“You’re already addicted to me, huh?” Doyoung chuckles, dragging his knuckles over your side and making your skin tingle. You smirk and throw your leg over him, and he groans at how your pussy slides over his hardening length.
“By the end of the night, you won’t be able to get enough of me.”
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Text
DIABOLIK LOVERS Para-Selene Vol.3 Mukami Kou [Track 4]
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Original title: 変わらないもの
Source: Diabolik Lovers Para-Selene Vol. 3 Mukami Kou [CD not owned by me]
Audio: Here
Seiyuu: Kimura Ryouhei
Translator’s note: Rejet really pulled up with the emotional monologue in this one. Even though almost all of the characters have some sort of tragic past/childhood, I personally believe that Kou had it the roughest out of everyone. Not only did he have to go through a lot of shit, but he really did have nobody to rely on at all. Not even the faintest spark of hope. So in that sense, it truly is amazing how he came this far and even found love ultimately.
Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5
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Track 4: Things Which Never Change
*Rustle*
“...Nn...Ah! My room...? I moved places again...How?”
He turns his head.
“...! No wonder it felt chilly in here...The window’s left open.”
Kou gets out of bed to step towards the window.
 “There’s still a double moon...Not only that, it doesn’t seem like the night is coming to a close despite all the time that has passed. I can’t wait to see the blue skies...If only all of this were just a dream.”
*Rattle*
“Hah...Why did things turn out like this!? ...I didn’t think being forgotten would leave such a strong impact on me. I wonder how you can retrieve one’s memories? What if they... never return at all? Will she continue to reject me forever? ...!! If we have to stay together under such circumstances, it’ll only bring pain and sadness! In that case, maybe I should just...give up instead?”
*TIMESKIP*
*Knock knock*
“...!! Who is it...? Ruki-kun...?”
You enter the room.
“M-neko-chan...? Why are you here...?”
You explain.
“Eh? Were you looking for me, perhaps? But why!? You were terrified of me...”
You point towards his hand.
“My wound on my hand? You were still worried about that?”
You offer to treat his injuries.
“...No need to worry. I told you earlier as well, but I’m a Vampire so my injuries heal quickly. ...Besides, my body’s already covered in scars as is.”
You tilt your head to the side.
“Right...You don’t remember, do you? None of it...Well, it doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter to you right now, after all~!”
You frown.
“It’s fine, really! I already gave up anyway. You won’t remember no matter what I do, right? If I continue to struggle in vain, it’ll only bring me more pain. You no longer love me. In that case, there’s no reason for us to stay together, is there?”
You simply stand there looking at Kou.
“...Listen, I’m basically giving you permission to run. So why won’t you move?”
You seem worried about him. 
“Nah, it’s fine. I no longer care. So come on, hurry.”
You shake your head.
“...!! ...Why!? First you continuously deny me, and now you’re suddenly claiming you can’t leave me be like this!? Are you pitying me, perhaps? ...If not that, then what!?”
You note he seems sad.
“...!! ...But why? How can you...look through my facade and tell I’m sad...even though you don’t have your memories? Even though I already decided I would give up...”
Kou suddenly gets up from the bed.
*Rustle*
“Haah...”
You approach him.
“What are you doing? If you get this close to me, you’ll have your blood sucked again. You wouldn’t want that, right?”
You give him permission.
“...’It’s fine’? ...So why are you suddenly trying to understand me now?”
You mention that the two of you were lovers.
“Exactly. We were lovers. ...Although you seem to have forgotten all about that.”
You ask if that makes him sad.
“Well, of course. Anyone would be sad if their beloved one forgot them, no? ...However, right now, I’m nothing but a stranger to you. So why would you care about my feelings?”
You explain.
“...!! M-neko-chan...Ah...Haha~ You’re such a Saint. You don’t want to see me sad? I’m pretty sure most people wouldn’t want to retrieve their own memories for the sake of someone else. ...But it no longer matters. Even if you don’t remember.”
You tell him you might remember.
“I told you earlier, didn’t I? I’ve given up. There’s no way to guarantee they’ll ever come back after all. ...Besides, this might be a chance to discover a new love for you! In the end, I’m nothing but a Vampire with a horrible descent. Don’t you think you could become much happier if you were to date this really nice guy instead?”
You shake your head.
“Why!? You were terrified earlier after I did all those horrible things to you, no?”
You note that Kou seems sad.
“...Excuse me? How can you tell I’m not a bad guy even though you’re suffering from amnesia...!? You don’t know anything about me! ...I don’t need your comfort, okay?”
You ask him to tell about his upbringing. 
“I see. If you insist, I’ll tell you. About how I’ve lived my life up till now. ...You see, I may be a Vampire right now, but I was originally born a human. I don’t any parents, and for as far as I can remember, I was living in a manhole. ...Exactly, it was dirty and stinky, a true hellhole. Obviously, I didn’t have the money to buy any food, so I had to avoid starvation by raiding the trash. 
Even if I would get my hands on something nice like a loaf of bread or some money, rather than food, I’d much rather exchange it for something which would make me feel satisfied emotionally. Heh. I lived like that my whole life, so I figured I would continue to do so until my death. However, one day I was found by a couple of soldiers and brought to an orpahange. 
Now, this orphanage was quite the experience as well. Honestly, the manhole might have been preferable. I was soon sold as a pretty-faced orphan and received money from aristocrats and politicians. My looks were miles above anyone else’s, so they all loved me! I was toyed with day after day...I even thought of making myself ugly by destroying one of my eyes in a desperate attempt to escape the situation but...It was no use. I never lived a good life, so I guess that part was doomed to stay the same even if I changed environments. 
But...I did meet Ruki-kun and the others at the orphanage shortly after. One thing led to another and ultimately I became the person I am today. You understand now, don’t you? What kind of guy I am. I didn’t enjoy a nice upbringing, so I can’t promise I’ll treat you well. ーー And above all, I’m a Vampire. ...If you do remember me, it’ll be a bunch of bad things so you...might just end up ultimately regretting it, don’t you think?”
You sob softly.
“Hm? Wai...Don’t tell me...Hey, lift your face...!”
You slowly look up at him.
“...It’s the same reaction as back then. Even without your memories...You’d still shed tears for me, huh? Those tears...aren’t out of pity, are they?”
You confirm his suspicions.
“...I knew it!”
You clutch onto his sleeve.
*Rustle*
“...What’s wrong all of a sudden?”
You ask why he doesn’t cry.
“Eh? I won’t cry! It’s not like tears would suddenly come out now...I’m fine as long as you cry in my place instead...”
You continue to sob.
“Hehe~ Your eyes are getting red. If you cry too much, they’ll become swollen and you’ll be quite the sight, you know?”
*Rustle*
“I don’t dislike seeing you in tears but...Right now, I’m not a huge fan of it.”
You note that he is crying as well.
“Eh? ...Tears?”
Kou touches his own cheek.
*Rustle*
“Ah...! You’re right. I’m...crying...? ...Ah! Seems like I can’t help but shed tears when I’m with you...I didn’t exactly want to cry or anything...But...I get it now...”
He embraces you.
*Rustle*
“That even without your memories...You are the same person I fell for, aren’t you? ...A miss goody-two-shoes willing to cry for others but...so very kind...”
*Sniffle*
“Mm...! I’ve made up my mind! I’ll stop trying to force your memories to come back!”
You seem surprised. 
“It’s fine, even if you don’t ever recall. I still love you regardless after all. ...So let’s just start over again from zero? Together. ...Okay?”
You nod.
“...Mmh~ I look forward to spending more time together, M-neko-chan. (1) ...Say, can I kiss you?”
You give him permission.
“...Thank you.”
*Smooch*
“Mm...I love you.”
*TIMESKIP*
The two of you are walking outside.
“...The morning just won’t come.”
You wonder if he perhaps hates the night.
“No, I don’t particularly dislike the night. ...But I want to see the blue sky, you see.”
You ask Kou if he likes the blue sky.
“Mmh, exactly. I love the clear skies. You’d assume morning would dawn soon but the night just seems to continue on forever, don’t you think? So I find myself thinking I want to watch the blue sky with you...”
You agree.
“Eh? ...Ah, thank you. I’m happy to hear you feel the same way. ...Oh, that rose.”
*Rustle*
“Here, I’ll give this to you. Of course, I thought it would look good on you, so don’t be modest and just accept it~”
You thank him.
“Hehe~ You’re welcome~ Hehe...I finally succeeded at making you smile~! ...Say...I’m sorry for doing all those horrible things to you. ...Being forgotten by the person I love the most in this world just made me so sad, I couldn’t believe it...Ah! But I’ll no longer force you to remember so...Let’s start making memories again together once more.”
You nod.
“...Hehe, thank you~”
*Rustle*
“I love you...Very much so, M-neko-chan...Hey? I won’t hurt so...Let me suck your blood?”
You give him permission.
“Mmh...Nn...”
*Sluuuurp*
“Ah...It’s so sweet and hot...Give me more...Mmh...”
*Sluuuurp*
“Hehe~ Look at you wriggling around...Does it feel good? In that case, I’ll suck you lots, okay? Nn...”
*Sluuuurp*
“Heh~ ...This side’s up next. Mmh...”
*Sluuuurp*
“Mm...”
*Gulp*
“Haah, haah...Even though you made such a fuss earlier, you’ll no longer fight it already?”
You blush bright red.
“Hm? ...What’s wrong? ...Say, why are you going quiet now? Tell me. ...Do you dislike having your blood sucked by me?”
You shake your head.
“Then how do you feel? Say it.”
You grow even more flustered.
“Fufu~ No need to get embarrassed. I’m the only one here after all. ...All you need to say is that it feels ‘good’. Piece of cake, no? ...Come on, say it.”
You whisper.
“Hm~? What was that? You have to speak louder or I can’t hear you.”
You repeat your words, louder this time.
“Hehe~ Good job. As a reward...I’ll make you feel even better. Mmh...”
*Sluuuurp*
“Nn...Ah. ...I want some from this slender arm as well...You don’t mind, do you?”
Kou bites your arm next.
*Sluuuurp*
“ーー Ah. Haah...I’ve gotten dizzy for some reason...But I still haven’t had enough. You feel the same way, don’t you? It’s written all over your face after all. That you want more of my fangs. That expression is incredibly cute. Mmh...”
*Smooch*
“I’ll bite you as many times as you wish, so just entrust everything to me, okay?”
*BZZZZZT*
“Uu...Kuh...Right now...Again...!?”
You become worried.
“Don’t worry...It’s no big deal...Ugh...Then...Let me hold your hand at least...I feel like that’s all I need to push through...”
You grab hold if his hand. 
“...Thank you.”
*WOOSH*
ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー
Translation notes
(1) これからもよろしく or ‘kore kara mo yoroshiku’ is one of those very common Japanese phrases which I always struggle with when I have to translate them to English. In a work-related context, it usually means something like ‘I look forward to continue working with you’ or ‘Thank you for the continued support’. In this case, I think it conveys Kou’s desire to continue spending more time with her as they once again fall in love.
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nepherious · 3 years
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@bambiyaga
Sure, I can elaborate, and since I'm not sure which specific take you're speaking about, I'm gonna kind of be broad-strokes in either direction to cover our bases. Now, mind you that this topic is fairly complicated, so I'll do my best to avoid rambling in any one particular direction, but if any of it's confusing please let me know and I'll try to clarify. Also, this is gonna be LONG. I'm so sorry, it's really impossible to put all of this information into bite-sized pieces without losing so much context. Even only writing this much loses a ton of other things that go on.
So, what tends to pop up in witchcraft related books is some kind of discussion of the Burning Times. Silver Ravenwolf, Margaret Murray, Lorietta Orion, I'm sure there are plenty of others but I haven't been back to Barnes and Noble in two years. The Burning Times is shorthand for the period in European history where the witch trials and executions took place. That much, simply speaking, is true - there was several centuries where, off and on, those accused of witchcraft were subjected to intense social scrutiny, marginalization, physical violence and death. We have historical documentation saying that this did, in fact, take place.
However, for Reasons, some authors tend to exaggerate the impact, the methodology, the motivation or even the targets to a certain degree. It all depends really on what they are trying to say by bringing up the Burning Times at all. And those Reasons can be vastly complicated! It involves not only the history of persecution in Europe within that timeframe, but it also involves our own modern history, the formation of Wicca, the Satanic Panic, internalized bigotry, religious trauma, and the early publishing standards of Llewellyn (hint: they had none).
I suppose the only way to really start this is to say that there has never been a single, ancient, pre-Christian pagan religion in Europe. It's just impossible - we can't even hold Christianity together for a couple hundred years without branching a million different ways, and that has a much more heavy emphasis on orthodoxy than paganism ever will. Paganism and witchcraft just don't work like that.
However, in the early-to-mid-20th century, there prevailed a kind of "witch cult hypothesis" (written extensively by Margaret Murray). It's since been discredited several times over, but it basically went that this "Old Religion" was thousands of years old, went underground and practiced in secret after Christianity became a Thing, was purposely demonized by conflating images of Satan with their Horned God, and was wiped out by The Church during the European Witch Hunts. And this was passed along as fact for decades. Decades! Even when there was a historical consensus on the witch trials, Murray continued to write for the Encyclopaedia Brittanica presenting her hypothesis as fact. I'm not sure about when specifically she was no longer in charge of writing the witchcraft articles for that particular publication, but I think it was about 1969 when enough was enough.
This idea would later be taken up by Gerald Gardner, who would take her ideas, some of his own, and a bunch of ideas from other cultures that looked "cool" and kind of mushed it all together into early Wicca, right around 1954. So still within the time frame where this hypothesis was still being presented as fact. Wicca itself would have its own branches and offshoots, but in the case of (forgive me if I'm applying the wrong label here) British Traditional Wicca, it's very much still Gardnerian in nature.
This is also right around the time where you start to get more of a... conflation of witchcraft with Wicca itself. While the two are very much not the same thing - Wicca is a religion and witchcraft is a craft - in the public eye of the time the two were very much used as synonyms. And again, the Reasons for doing so were very, very complex. In the decades leading up to the later 20th century, America in particular was seeing a lot of social upheaval and anxiety. We had the Cold War, the specter of Communism, the Civil Rights movement, changes in how work was done, feminist movements, free love and a rejection of traditional social hierarchies, the Vietnam War, anxieties over masculinity, a shift in evangelical Christianity towards a much more militant version of itself, and boy howdy did all of that do a number on the people who were alive for it.
Then you got the Manson Family.
I'm not gonna go into detail about them, everyone and their grandmother has studied Charles Manson's cult, but one of the more particular effects of such a well known horror story about Satanic Cults was that very suddenly, everyone was concerned about Satanism in their neighborhoods and the real physical danger it involved. This is all very, very generalized, but my point is that there was very much a need for anyone practicing witchcraft to distance themselves from what a lot of people at the time assumed about witchcraft. Thus you get the whole "love and light" varieties of witchcraft popping up, as if to say "no, no, we're not THOSE kinds of witches, that was all made up by Witch Hunters to demonize us!" It was a concentrated effort to distance themselves from folks thinking that they were just another pack of murderous Satanic cultists who'd break into your home and murder your family. Which, I mean, yeah I can see why they'd want to do that, especially with everything else going on in the broader social milieu.
Joanne Pearson wrote specifically in regards to Wicca distancing itself both from accusations of Satanism and baby killing, as well as pulling in feminist rhetoric in a form of self-victimization:
"Identification as a witch can[…] provide a link to those persecuted and executed in the Great Witch Hunt, which can then be remembered as a holocaust against women, a repackaging of history that implies conscious victimization and the appropriation of 'holocaust' as a badge of honour — 'gendercide rather than genocide'. An elective identification with the image of the witch during the time of the persecutions is commonly regarded as part of the reclamation of female power, a myth that is used by modern feminist witches as an aid in their struggle for freedom from patriarchal oppression."
The use of the word 'holocaust' here is very intentional, as many practitioners of the time were espousing the ahistorical idea that the amount of women murdered in the Witch Hunts was somewhere in the ballpark of 9 million people, effectively drawing comparisons to how many Jewish people were murdered in Germany during the Holocaust, and painting modern witches as a marginalized, victimized, persecuted minority.
Which is really frickin' gross! If I do say so myself! But that's where growing up in a bigoted society will often land you - doing bigoted things thinking that it's the right thing to do when it's just... not.
Which leads us back to the "actual" Burning Times - the numbers were not nine million. Even if we're going to give the benefit of the doubt on counting anything, and add more victims to hedge our bets, over the span of CENTURIES, the number was more like 100,000. If you're being very generous. And the fact remains that not everywhere in Europe was doing this, all at the same time, for the entirety of those centuries. I've written before on how fragmented the Christian population was depending on location, respect to the Pope, and local power struggles within the ruling nobility. Fact was, accusations of witchcraft were all down to luck - it was a matter of who you were, and where you were born. Even if we were to say, focus on the Spanish Inquisition and talk only about THOSE witch hunts? They were far more interested in targeting and persecuting heretics and conversos, which is to say, Muslim and Jewish people living in Spain who "converted" under threat of exile, and were found to still be practicing their faiths anyway. Or even just suspected of it.
So even then, it was not about "real" witches. It was not a concentrated effort to exterminate a millenia-old religion that existed in all of Europe pre-Christianity. It was about power, and exerting that power over people who were, in a Catholic-dominated, white supremacist society, powerless. And it's really kind of par for the course in white neopagan and feminist circles to take something that happened to POC and marginalized people, and center ourselves in the conversation.
So, all of this, all these decades of publication and hypothesis and apologia and "well actually"ing, and a publishing house that will let anyone write whatever the hell they want to without extensive fact-checking, you get the constant pervasive myth of the Burning Times.
Like, there's so so so much more to talk about regarding this subject, this is a VASTLY condensed version that doesn't get into every last piece of nuance, but there's a good point to do your own studies on it. I really like Kristin Kobes du Mez' Jesus and John Wayne to look at mid-20th century America and the rise of militant evangelism in response to the culture wars of that time period; Diarmaid MacCulloch's The Reformation and Christianity: The First Three Thousand Years for a VERY DETAILED (the man does not spare a single fact, it's DENSE) look at both the formation of Christianity, its various sects, schisms and reformations, and the broader historical context regarding those same things; @traegorn's podcast BS-Free Witchcraft, specifically episode 23 titled "The Burning Times" and let's face it most of their other other episodes as well; Cassie Beyer's extensive critique of Silver Ravenwolf as a writer on the site "Wicca for the Rest of Us"; and I'm pretty sure @breelandwalker has written about the Burning Times more than once but I'm so very very tired and am unable to go find any of the posts.
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waynewifey · 3 years
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The world on my wrist —
soulmate!au
Pairing: Oliver Wood x Slytherin!fem!Reader
Summary: When your soulmate’s favourite thing appears on your wrist, it can become a big confusion.
Warnings: fainting, oliver being a sweetheart, fluff
Words: 1400
A/N: Hello lovely people! I’ve worked so hard on this one, I intend to make it a series with multiple characters. Let me know if you’d like it! Oliver is my favourite character so I loved writing this. Anyways, good reading!
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The myths about soulmates are known for thousand of years in the Wizarding World. It's told that the day a person turns 16, a word appears on their wrist. That word is their favourite thing and it's written on your soulmate's handwriting. By the day it appears, the person shall search for their soulmate everyday until they find it, or it would be considered a rejection and it could be fatal. I've always dreamed about meeting my soulmate. I couldn't wait to find out who my second half was. So when I woke up on my 16th birthday, the first thing I did was to roll up my sleeves and check the word "Quidditch" on it. Strange, there were so many possibilities. But I immediately thought of my teammate Scot Fearn. He was my left hand as I was the Slytherin Quidditch Team captain, of course, but I never thought of him as more than it before. The feeling was odd. My friends told me I was supposed to feel a very strong random emotion, but I didn't feel anything extraordinary. Maybe that was my random feeling: numbness.
"Hey, Fearn! Can I get a word?" I said by the end of that Saturday's practice. He followed me outside the changing room with a bag filled with a bunch of badly folded uniform. I stared at his eyes for a moment. He was indeed a good friend, maybe I always knew we completed each other.
"First of all, happy birthday. Second of all- Well, I don't know, you haven't said anything yet." Scot said, brushing a hand through his light brown hair. We both giggled. I took a deep breath and tried to say something.
"I’m sorry but um- What... What does it say on your, um, on your wrist?" I stubbled myself through the words, looking down at our feet. He didn't say anything for a second, but then gasped for air.
"Quidditch." His wrist was showing. The calligraphy wasn't exactly like mine, but it looked similar. I showed him mine.
"Mine too. Do you think we are think we are...?" I glanced at him, biting my lip trying to hold my anxiety.
"I think we are..." He smiled widely at me. I could feel the fresh breath against the top of my head. I smiled at him too, as he took me around his arms. I've found my soulmate, but something felt strange.
The month went by. Me and Scot were officially dating and almost everyone in Hogwarts knew about it, as it usually happened when soulmates met. I got sick at the first week of the second month, one day before our first game against Gryffindor. I spent the day in bed, trying to get better for the next day. Scot stayed with me the whole day, of course. He seemed sick too.
The game was about to start. We flew to our positions on the pitch while Madam Hoch prepared herself. I needed to greet the Gryffindor captain. I looked at the team: the beater twins on the right, the chasers: Angelina, Alice and Katie around the captain, the seeker Harry Potter was higher than everyone else, and Oliver Wood right in front of me. I stared at his eyes waiting for the game to start. As I continued to stare into his dark orbits, I started feeling dizzy and suddenly everything was a blur.
"... I think cinnamon? But strawberry tea is great too." I heard a feminine voice speak. I opened my eyes a bit, looking around. I was laying down a bed in Hospital Wing, two persons were sitting a bit far from me. I recognised Katie Bell and my boyfriend in their Quidditch Uniforms. I didn't had the strength to talk yet. "Um, do you want to go to the kitchen or something? I don't think they'll wake up any soon and it's kind of getting late." She continued and he only nodded once, grinning widely at her. I watched them leave, slightly uncomfortable. Their hands were interlocked.
"What?" The word left as a whisper from my mouth, as I tried to get up.
"Oh, you're awake." A Scottish accent filled the room. I then noticed Oliver Wood in the bed in front of me. "I've been pretending to be sleeping for a couple hours. It's good to finally have someone to talk to. Though I don't have good news."
"What happened? Why are we here?" My voice, again, failed me, too low that if there were a single noise in the room, he wouldn't hear me. He got up and walked to a chair beside my bed. The moonlight that entered from the windows reflected on his brown hair.
"You don't remember either? Well, I spent some time trying to figure this out. I remember seeing you fall from your broom and then I felt sick and fell from mine too. I've been sick all week, actually." His gaze followed my motions as I got up and stretched a bit, feeling much better.
"Me too..." I furrowed my eyebrows a bit, hoping he wouldn't notice in the lack of light. "Are you feeling better now? Whatever Madam Pomfrey did to me, it worked. I feel like I could run a marathon."
"I am, actually. That woman is unbelievable good at her work. By the way, they replaced us and Slytherin won. Katie told me they played really well, I've always admired you." I smiled at him, as the realisation crossed his mind. "As- as a captain, that's what I meant."
Me and Oliver bonded throughout the following month. It felt good being around him. It made me feel more alive than I've ever felt. I only saw Scot during meals and our relationship was great, I just happened to make friend just like he became friends with Katie Bell. I was studying for potions exam with Wood, when I remembered I needed new strategies as the next game was near. I searched for a new piece parchment and dipped my quill on the ink. I started writing.
"Hell's bells! What's this?" Oliver exclaimed slamming his hand on my parchment.
"Stop! You'll stain it!" I slapped his hand, making him back away. "These are my strategies, which, by the way, you're not supposed to see. We're still rivals."
"No, no. The title." He pointed at the word 'quidditch' and raised his hand to me. "Look. It's the same calligraphy." He showed me his wrist and the word in it. "We're soulmates Y/N!" I laughed at him until I realised he was being serious. It couldn't be.
"Are you out of your mind? I turned 16 last month, we would be dead by now! It's just a coincidence, I'm sure Katie's handwriting is exactly the same as the one on your skin, mine is just similar." I explained to him in a quiet voice, since the other students at the library were already looking at us.
"Are you rejecting me?" The emotion in his voice made me shiver. Oliver seemed devastated for a second. I could tell he truly believed that.
"No, of course not! I can't reject you because we're not soulmates, Wood."
"I've been wanting to tell you that for a long time. Since that day in the Hospital Wing, I knew I liked you. I thought it was impossible and that my feelings were messy because I shouldn't be able to fall in love with someone else but this is it. You are my soulmate and I know that deep down you think I'm yours too."
"I don't th-" In a fast movement, his hand held my neck, pulling me into him. I couldn’t think fast enough to deny it nor I wanted to. Our lips met quickly as a electric current stormed inside my body. It was like every cell of mine was exploding at the same time, but in a very good way. From the top of my head head to the point of my toe, I was automatically euphoric. He broke of the kiss, staring deeply into my eyes, hands still on me, I noticed his pupils dilate as I saw my on reflect on them.
“Oh, so we actually are.” We laughed, kissing again. And again. And again. And many more times that evening and the following years.
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