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drchucktingle · 5 months

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THE TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION TELLS CHUCK TINGLE TO STAY HOME BUT WE PROVE LOVE ANYWAY

just when you buckaroos thought 2024 would be a break from book drama, here comes chuck tingle in the mix. recently i was asked to be a featured speaker at the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION annual conference. a few days ago they rescinded my invitation. here is what happened.

(EDITED TO ADD THIS LINK. if you have a hard time reading this on way of tumblr you can also read for free on chucks patreon)

i would like to start off by saying it is not my intent to start a fight, and all those reading this should know that the actions of a few misguided folks do not speak for the whole TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION. i am sure there are many involved who will be very upset to learn what others at TLA have done in their name. there are many individuals here, so please do not paint them all as villains in your mind. besides, chuck loves the dang library everyone knows that.

the point of writing this is not to vilify. i am writing this is because MOMENTS OF DARKNESS are the best places to SHINE A LIGHT AND PROVE LOVE IS REAL. this is a perfect time for learning and growing and for us talk on some very important things that queer buckaroos and neurodivergent buckaroos face every day. this is an unfortunate moment that WE can turn around and use to prove love is real.

i am also writing this to understand some of my own personal feelings on the matter. for something that seems very simple on the surface, the trot is complex, and i am still working out my emotions on the whole dang thing. i am learning in this way.

PART ONE: BAG OF LOVE

a few months ago chuck was asked to be a featured speaker at the 2024 TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION ANNUAL CONFERENCE. i have been asked to do things like the before and it is ALWAYS a fun time to meet bookseller and librarian buds. trotting around face to face and talking about my story of conquering chronic pain and overcoming my mental hurdles is VERY IMPORTANT to me. i say YES to these things whenever i can. (here i am with authors at CALIFORNIA INDEPENDENT BOOKSELLERS ALLIANCE conference. they are a WONDERFUL group and they proved love with their OWN invitation to chuck. this was such a moving event with so many amazing authors and stories. got very teared up during this photo)

ANYWAY BUCKAROOS i get the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION invite and say 'YES BUD LETS TROT'. we are then confirmed.

months pass. a few weeks ago i get a call from my manager and agent and publisher saying ‘the TLA have rescinded their invitation.’

turns out some things had been going on behind the scenes

at some point the TLA asked chucks INCREDIBLE HEROIC BAD ASS PUBLISHER if chuck would be okay with not wearing the mask, to which tor/nightfire/macmillan said ‘what the heck are you talking about of course chuck is going to wear his mask. this is how chuck presents himself’ (NOT EXACT QUOTE)

as you all know, my pink bag way is a VERY IMPORTANT SPACE. as an autistic buckaroo it is a boundary that allows me to express myself freely and relieve my chronic pain from neurotypically masking all day. i have talked about this for years, and it is why i consider my private identity a SACRED THING. it is literally a health issue.

fortunately THE PINK BAG is never really a problem when making appearances. i have spent years going on television shows, doing interviews, speaking at other conferences and conventions, hosting book events on tour, and even MEETING WITH LAWYERS in my pink face covering. it is always respected and that is very validating to my way.

when arriving anywhere i always take precautions. i always warn buckaroos ahead of time that there is a masked man coming. i always have someone go in ahead of me JUST IN CASE. again, there has never been an issue. at a big conference where i am a special guest there is ESPECIALLY not an issue because my face and bio are printed IN THE DANG PROGRAM

SOME FUN TIMES AT BIG EVENTS BELOW:

CHUCK ON TV SHOW NAME OF 'AT MIDNIGHT' BACK BEFORE I WROTE LOVE IS REAL ON MY HEAD:

well, there has never been an issue.... UNTIL NOW.

PART TWO: RESCINDED

a few days ago TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION suddenly messaged my publishers and said that chuck tingle is no longer invited. my invitation was rescinded. the reason given was that people could possibly be uncomfortable with my mask

right out of the gate i would like to say this: it is absolutely the right of the texas library association to disinvite someone from their conference. it is their event, after all, and they can ban anyone they would like, for any reason.

of course, that doesnt mean other folks HEARING THIS NEWS wont have their own opinions the TLA choices. if the TLA disinvites someone, their reasoning for doing this can be discussed and analyzed. whether or not they follow their own guidelines can be questioned, and certainly their kindness and tact can be considered

there are a few BIG POINTS to make regarding this choice from the TLA

first and foremost, i just gotta say buckaroos, it is incredibly rude to invite someone to be a guest speaker at your event, have them confirm and mark off their calendar and turn down other offers, then rescind their invitation. this is maybe the simplest of the points, but it is an important one.

second, (DEEP BREATH HERE WE GO BUCKAROOS) i personally do not think of my autism as a disability very often, but i also KNOW that despite these feelings it ABSOLUTELY IS. autism is important to be listed as a recognized disability because of the help some autistic buckaroos need regarding government programs and things like that. ALSO just because my neurodivergence has helped me in some ways (hyperfocus and a unique artistic sensibility for example). i personally need to step back and remember my battle with stress and chronic pain from having to neurotypically mask all the time. for as much as i love being autistic it has made some things very difficult.

in other words, i am perfectly capable of speaking and interacting with folks without this pink bag on my head BUT WHEN I AM IN THE CHUCK TINGLE SPACE I REQUIRE IT. i can ONLY use this space while covering my face. is not a want. it is a need. holding this boundary is more important than i can ever say. i will not, and can not, let these spaces cross.

TLA not letting an autistic author wear the face cover theyve set up to express their neurodivergence in a safe, healthy way is--for lack of a better term--NOT A GOOD LOOK.

i cannot fathom them disinviting another author for using a disability aid. i cannot fathom them saying that a buckaroo who hears better with a hearing device cannot use it during their panel because it would make others 'uncomfortable'.

but here we are.

PART THREE: WHAT DOES A BUCKAROO GOTTA DO TO GET BANNED AROUND HERE?

this is the TLAs official stance on disability issues according to their website:

when poking around on the TLA website i noticed a few other things. i noticed a previous guest speaker wearing a niqab, and i was left wondering if the religious significance is what make that okay but chuck tingle banned. that made sense until i looked deeper and saw mascot buckaroos dressed up on the exhibition floor, and saw some kind of spiderbud in a costume contest. nobody around them seemed to be all that scared. their invitations REMAINED INTACT.

it should be mentioned here that AT ONE POINT during the discussions an email was sent from TLA saying chuck is allowed to come and wear his mask in the exhibition halls and smaller panels, just not at any of the big PAID PANELS i was once supposed to participate on. this was a confusing offer, but their explanation was that people who paid for something should have the option to not see chucks 'scary neurodivergence aid'. i tried to wrap my head around WHY they would make a distinction. maybe the exchange of money (rather than time) causes some kind of philosophical adjustment that i just cant grasp?

i wonder, would the author who wears a niqab ALSO be banned from the paid panels? i hope not

my answers trotted up short until i investigated deeper and found this quick moment from one of the TLA help videos. while some events DO require additional buckaroo cash, it actually appears that THE ENTIRE CONFERENCE IS TICKETED AND COSTS MONEY.

at this point i realized there is clearly no actual official policy about not covering your face (other than one from a few years ago saying that you HAVE to cover your face), and the addition of 'money' is a red herring. these excuses make no sense

PART FOUR: CLOSE THOSE GATES

it appears that my neurodivergence is 'scary' enough to get me uninvited, REGARDLESS what their disability and mask policies may say

BUT WHY? why is chucks preferred physical presentation valued SO little by the TLA that a THEORETICAL complaint is worth more? is my neurodivergent expression so awful? is my own safety as a queer activist such an afterthought?

is a pink bag with the words 'love is real' scrawled across the front REALLY going to frighten someone when the posters and pamphlets on the way into in panel would have a photo of my masked face saying THIS IS LITERALLY WHO IS ABOUT TO APPEAR BEFORE YOU.

if THAT accommodation is too much, would it really be so difficult to have someone trot out beforehand and make an announcement? to say 'there is someone on this upcoming panel who needs a mask to express this part of himself, if this makes you uncomfortable then this panel might not be for you'.

and really, i have to heckin ask, is this physical expression of my raw inner truth really so hideous and frightening that fear of making someone uncomfortable is a REAL problem?

(a terrifying display of autism. apparently)

i cannot imagine what kind of precautions they need to take before a stage play featuring costumes and masks.

you MIGHT think chucks queerness and left leaning politics could be the issue with this organization, but they have had drag queens as past speakers (also featuring some GLORIOUS makeup and hair that covers almost all of their faces. VERY CURIOUS). regardless, the TLA do not seem like a conservative bunch.

if you are bisexual or an autistic person who is good at 'passing' you probably already know where this is headed, your dang spiderbuckaroo senses are tingling at FULL ALERT. i will say i do not KNOW the real reason why i was uninvited, and i do not have enough information to make any concrete statement of the real answer. there is only evidence that masks have been fine at TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION events in the past, but not much else to go on.

so the FACTS part of our discussion ends there, but i think it opens us up to talk about some very important feelings that bisexual and autistic buckaroos know well.

THIS is where we take a unfortunate, hurtful moment and turn it into a discussion. this is where we prove love is real.

as someone who is constantly doubted and put through purity tests because of my unique way, we are pushing up against a subject i know well. thats right buckaroos: we are talking GATEKEEPING

AGAIN, i do not know if this is the answer, but someone in my position might be VERY STRONGLY INCLINED TO THINK that a few well-meaning left leaning buckaroos think i am a joke and that this is a character, and that there is something problematic about my work because i am not really a real person.

any upstanding left leaning organization would OF COURSE allow a mask for a neurodivergent buckaroo with an unusual visual presentation, an autistic buckaroo who conquered his chronic pain ONLY by creating this important space... but what about a FAKE autistic buckaroo?

any upstanding left leaning organization would OF COURSE allow a mask for a queer LGBTQ activist standing up for gay and trans rights against a torrent of scoundrels hunting for his legal identity. its a matter of safety... but what about a FAKE queer activist?

let me be very clear for the 100th time: i am a real person. this is not a joke. i am not playing a character. i am really autistic and bisexual. tinglers are sincere and they are not ‘so bad theyre good’. they are just good. camp damascus is not ‘my first serious book’ because my queer erotica is serious. my art is important and real.

when people tell me to unmask they often do not know WHY they want it, and of course one very good reason is innocent curiosity. but there are SOME cases where i start to get THAT feeling--that tingle all of us ‘passing’ buckaroos get when we can sense the real intent behind the poking and prodding. that is the feeling of stumbling into a gatekeepers crosshairs.

if i was to take off my pink bag, what about my face would you analyze to tell if i was REALLY queer. my eye color? my ear shape? if you learned my legal name, would you see if it sounded autistic? is my voice neurodivergent enough?

or is all of that utterly absurd? i am curious what the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION thinks.

PART FIVE: GENDERED

this will be the shortest of parts, but it has to be said. i have a very complex relationship with gender, as written about at length here and here. i understand these things can be difficult to parse for some, but i ask that you trust me when i say that the ONLY reason i have been able to talk about my gender and sexuality and learn these things about myself is because of this pink bag. this outward appearance is a direct expression and reflection of my gender journey.

if the texas library association does not care about my appearance as an expression of my autism, then i cant imagine them giving a dang about it as an expression of my gender and queerness. that being said, it is personally very important to me and i think it should be mentioned

PART SIX: SO YOU WANT TO REMOVE AN AUTISTIC QUEER AUTHOR FROM YOUR EVENT BECAUSE PEOPLE MIGHT FIND THEIR DIFFERENCES SCARY

there is a question to be asked here: how could the TLA have done this correctly?

i have one very big piece of advice i would like to shout from the rooftops. please, for the love of sweet barbara, DO ENOUGH RESEARCH to know if this appearance will be a problem and, IF SO, dont extend an invitation in the first place. unique buckaroos with different presentations are constantly left in this place of limbo because we are bombarded with careless actions like those of the TLA. before you consider extending a branch to an artist who might need more accommodations than usual, think to yourself 'CAN WE MAKE THESE ACCOMMODATIONS?'

putting all of this on the shoulders of a single 'buckaroo with a difference' is exhausting. as the TLA has shown, we currently live on a timeline where a buckaroo like myself never really knows if an invite is SOLID without doing a deep dive history lesson on how often a group discriminates and against who.

i did not want to spend my whole family holiday worrying whether or not i should say something publicly or just lie down and shut my dang mouth. i had to consider HOW i should say it. i had to worry whether or not its worth standing up for myself in the face of the largest state library association in the country. i think buckaroos with differences are with me when i say: WE ARE SICK OF HAVING TO DO THIS WORK TO COVER FOR THE POOR BEHAVIOR OF LARGE ORGANIZATIONS WHO TREAT US BADLY

another option would just be to use kindness and common sense and happily accommodate artists with unique presentations to your conventions

PART SEVEN: LOVE IS STILL REAL

i would like to close by saying THANK YOU to my publisher nightfire and editor kelly for standing up for me. they immediately stood firm and had my back. they are the real dang deal. THANK YOU to my management and agent buds dongwon and gino for trotting along beside me. THANK YOU to the folks at the texas library association who initially invited chuck with goodness in their heart and then likely got bowled over by someone else, and maybe even got knocked to the side by a big closing gate.

i hope there are librarians in texas who are still interested in carrying BURY YOUR GAYS when it comes out (which is ironically about someone who creates a space through art to express their queerness where they cant otherwise). libraries prove love is real and what they do IS SO IMPORTANT. it was SO IMPORTANT TO ME as a young buckaroo and i cannot thank you enough. i am not sure if me writing all of this will hurt my sales in some way, but this opportunity to speak about the reality of disability awareness and queer gatekeeping is too important to stay silent. (if you have not already preordered BURY YOUR GAYS then give it a preorder to make up for some texas library losses i guess.)

which leads me to my final thank you. THANK YOU to the buckaroos reading this. yes YOU. i am in the position to stand up and speak my mind against scoundrel forces ONLY because i have the might of you buckaroos by my side. the buckaroo trot is ALL OF OUR TROT and we are ALL HERE TO PROVE LOVE. i cannot tell you how much i appreciate the way you have created a space for me to express these important parts of myself. you have seen this pink mask over my face and saying YES, I ACCEPT YOU, you have literally saved my life. for that i am so thankful.

if you are UPSET by what youve read here, then turn it into something positive. you can support autistic creators, or make a donation to the AUTISTIC SELF ADVOCACY NETWORK

and besides WHO IS REALLY MISSING OUT? this is what it looks like when you invite the worlds greatest author chuck tingle to your event and treat their identity as valid. WE HAVE A DANG GOOD TIME

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KEEP TROTTING INTO THE FUTURE. KEEP KICKING DOWN GATES WHEREVER THEY MAY BE. KEEP PROVING LOVE IS REAL AND PROVING IT TOGETHER. lets go buckaroos - chuck

UPDATE AN HOUR AFTER POSTING:

true buckaroo TJ KLUNE was set to be another author on panel chuck was removed from and has informed me he has now chosen to decline his invitation in support and solidarity with chuck. i am so deeply moved by this. thank you from bottom of heart buckaroo

to be very clear TJ has a huge platform and DOES NOT NEED TO DO THIS. these conferences are great for book sales and he is taking a hit out of pure solidarity. this is queer buckaroos standing up for eachother. i am floored by this kindness and love

please consider checking out his books if they are not already covering your dang bookshelf. chuck blurbed IN THE LIVES OF PUPPETS and i was blown away i heckin loved it

MOST RECENT UPDATE:

here is more

#love is real #chuck tingle #tingleverse #texas library association #actually autistic #lgtbqia #Youtube

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wilwheaton · 11 months

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When you watch The Curse, you are watching two children who were abused and exploited daily during production. No adults protected us.

This was originally published on my blog in August, 2022.

I had a wonderful time at Steel City Comicon this weekend. It was my first time at this particular con, so I didn’t know there was such a huge contingent of horror fans, creators, and vendors who attend.

I love horror, and I was pretty psyched to be in the same place as John Carpenter and Tom Savini, across the street from the Dawn of the Dead mall. Pittsburgh feels like one of the places horror was invented, at least to me.

A number of these horror fans came to see me, and asked me to sign posters and other things from a movie my parents forced me to do when I was 13, called The Curse. I had to tell each of these people that I would not sign anything associated with that movie, because I was abused and exploited during production. The time I spent on that film remains the most traumatizing time of my life, and though I am a 50 year-old man, just typing this now makes my hands shake with remembered fear of a 13 year-old boy who nobody protected, and the absolute fury the 50 year-old man feels toward the people who hurt him.

I told this story in Still Just A Geek, and I’ve talked about it in some podcasts I did on the promo tour, but I’ve never put it out in public like this, in its entirety.

I suspect someone at the publisher would prefer I tease this and hope it drives book sales from people who want to read all of it, but I honestly don’t want to have another weekend like this one where everything is awesome, except the few times people who have no idea (and why should they) put that fucking poster in front of me, and all the fear, abandonment, and trauma come flooding back as I tell them that I won’t sign it, and why.

To their credit, each person was as horrified as they should have been, told me they had no idea (if they didn’t read my book why would they), and quickly put the poster away. They were all understanding. I am grateful for that.

But I really don’t need to tell this story over and over again, so here it is, with a child abuse and exploitation content warning, so I can just tell people to Google it.

After Stand by Me, everything changed. The attention from entertainment journalists, casting directors, and especially teen magazines came pouring in. The movie was a generational hit, beloved by critics and audiences alike, and every single one of us could pick anything to do next.

River’s parents and his agent got him Mosquito Coast, with Harrison Ford, as his next movie. I also auditioned for the role, but I knew even then that River was going to book the job. He was perfect, and I’d have to wait a little bit for my opportunity to come along.

I went on a lot of theatrical auditions after Stand by Me. I had tons of meetings with directors and the heads of casting at every major studio. It was all a very big deal, and I felt like we were all looking for something really special and amazing as my follow-up to Stand by Me.

At some point, a couple of producers contacted my agent with an offer to play one of the leads in an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space.” The script was titled The Farm. (It would, of course, be changed when the film was released).

I read it. I did not like it. It was a shitty horror movie, and I saw that right away. It was the sort of thing you rented on Friday when the new release you wanted was already out of the store.

My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

I told my parents I didn’t like it and didn’t want to do it. I clearly recall thinking it was a piece of shit that would hurt my career.

It wasn’t the first thing that had come our way that I wanted to pass on, and every other time, it hadn’t been a very big deal.

Sidebar: I was cast in Twilight Zone: The Movie, in 1983. The film tells four stories, and I was cast as the kid who can wish people into cartoonland. It was a GREAT role, in a movie I still love. (Note that Twilight Zone had four directors. One of them got three people killed. The segment I was cast in was not that one. I mention this because too many people zero in on this to deflect from what this whole thing is actually about.)

But I was CONVINCED by my parochial school teacher that if I worked on The Twilight Zone, which she had determined was satanic, I would go to hell. (This woman and her bullshit played a big role in my conversion to atheism at a young age, but when she told me that, I was all-in on the supernatural story they taught us in religion class.) I was so scared, more scared than I’d ever been to that point in my life, I cried and wailed and begged my parents to not make me do the movie. And I never told them why, because I was afraid my dad would laugh at me for being weak and afraid. My agent tried to talk me into it, and I wouldn’t budge. It’s the only thing I deeply and truly regret passing on, and I really hate I made that choice for such a stupid reason.

Okay. Back to The Curse.

This time, when I told them how much I hated it, they wouldn’t listen to me. My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

That is, until they made me take a meeting with the producers of the movie, in their giant conference room on the top floor of a tall building in Hollywood. All I remember about this place was that it was huge; the table was way too big for the five of us who spread around it, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows on three of the walls, but the room was still dark. There was a weird optical illusion in the center of the table, this thing they sold in the Sharper Image catalog, made from two reflective dishes with a hole in the top of one. You placed an object in the bottom of the bottom dish, and it made it look like that object was floating above the whole thing. They had a plastic spider in it. What a strange detail for me to remember, but it’s as clear in my memory as if I were sitting in that room right now.

One man, who I presumed was the executive producer, was European or Middle Eastern (I didn’t know the difference then, he was just Not Like People I Knew), and I was instantly afraid of him. He was intimidating, and seemed like a person who got what he wanted.

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

I don’t remember what they said to me in their pitch or anything other than how uncomfortable and anxious I was to even be in that room. I tried so hard to be grown up and mature, but I — and my parents — was way out of my depth. I’d done one big movie and that was it. We didn’t have my agent with us, who had lots of experience and would have known what questions to ask.

No, in place of my experienced agent, my mother had decided she was going to be my manager, and she tackled the responsibility with an enthusiasm that was only matched by her absolute incompetence and inability to go toe-to-toe with producers the way my agent did. She was outwitted, out-thought, and outmaneuvered at every turn.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

At some point, this man, who is represented in my memory by big Jim Jones sunglasses under dark hair above an open collar, said, “We are offering you a hundred thousand dollars and round-trip travel for your whole family. We will cast your sister, Amy, to play your sister in the movie.”

It all made sense, now. I was only thirteen, but I knew my parents were pushing me so hard because this company was offering me — them, really — more money than I’d ever imagined I’d earn in my life, much less a single job.

I knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, was to say no. There would be other opportunities, and it was stupid to cash myself out of feature films for what I thought was, in the grand scheme of things, not very much money.

It’s incredible to me that I knew all of this. It’s incredible to me that I could see all these things, plainly and clearly, and my parents couldn’t (or, more likely, chose not to).

So after this man made his offer, all the adults in the room ganged up on me, selling me HARD on this movie.

My mother said, “Don’t you want your sister to have the same opportunities you’ve had? Wouldn’t it be fun and exciting to go to Rome? Think of all the history!”

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

I don’t think about this very often, because it’s super upsetting to me. Right now, I’m so angry at my parents for subjecting me and my sister to this entire experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In that moment, I felt bullied and trapped. All these adults were talking to me at the same time, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to go home and get out of this room. I just wanted to go be a kid, so I did what I’d learned to do to survive: I gave in and did what my parents wanted.

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

But here’s the thing: when you watch The Curse, you are watching two children, me and my sister, who were abused on a daily basis. The production did not follow a single labor law. They worked us for twelve hours a day, on multiple film units (while I work on First unit, second unit sets up and waits for me. When I should get a break to rest, they send me to Second unit, then to Third unit, then back to First unit. I was 13.) without any breaks, five days a week. I was exhausted the entire time. I was inappropriately touched by two different adults during production. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared and ashamed, and I felt so unsupported, I didn’t tell anyone. I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother would blame me. Anything to keep the production happy, that’s what she did. That was more important to her than the health and safety of her children. The director was coked out of his mind most of the time, incompetent, and so busy fucking or trying to fuck one of the women in the cast, he was worse than useless. He was a fading actor who was cosplaying as a director, as in over his head as my mother. My sister and I were never safe. Instead of harmless atmospheric SFX smoke, they set hay on fire in barrels and blew actual smoke onto the set. They took buckets of talc, broken wood, bits of wallpaper and plaster, and threw it into my face during a scene inside the collapsing house. My sister is in a scene where she goes to get eggs from some chickens, and they attack her. So they hired Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror master, to direct her sequence. His idea, which everyone was totally on board with, was to throw chickens at my sister. Live chickens, live roosters, live birds. Just throw them at a nine-year-old girl. Oh, and then tie them to her arms and legs so they’ll peck her. All of this happened under my mother’s observation, and with her full participation.

Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

If just ONE of the things I can remember happened to someone I loved, I would have grabbed my kids, gone to the airport, and flown home. Fuck those abusive assholes in the production. Let the lawyers sort it all out. Nobody hurts my children and gets away with it.

My mom says she “had some talks” with the producers. She claims that, once, she wouldn’t let us leave the hotel. (God, what a fucking dump that place was. It was just slightly better than a hostel.) I have no memory of that, but honestly the entire experience was so traumatic, I’ve blocked most of it out.

The movie was the commercial and critical failure I knew it would be. My parents spent the money. I don’t know what they spent it on. I got to keep fifteen cents of every dollar, so . . . yay?

My sister and I hardly ever talk about this. I suspect it was as upsetting and traumatic for her as it was for me. I told her I was writing about it, and asked her if she remembered anything. She told me she’d been lied to her whole life about this movie. Our mother let her believe she had been cast on the strength of her audition. “I was excited to work with you,” she said. She reminded me about some stuff I’d blocked out, including a scene where my character’s older brother (played by an actor named Malcolm Danare, who was kind and gentle, and made both of us feel safer when he was around) shoves my character into a pile of cow shit. When it came time to shoot the scene, the mud they’d put together to be the cow shit looked an awful lot like cow shit. When Malcolm pushed me into it, we all found out it was real cow shit. I was FURIOUS. The director had lied to me and had allowed me to have my entire body shoved into an actual pile of actual cow shit. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember he treated me the exact same way my father did whenever I got upset: he laughed at me, told me I was being too sensitive, reminded me that he was the director and he wanted to get a “real” performance out of me, and concluded, “If it bothers you so much, we’ll get you a hepatitis shot,” before he walked away.

My sister also recalled that, after she survived the scene with the chickens, it was the producers’ idea to give her one as a pet.

Okay, let’s unpack that for a quick second: you’ve been traumatized by these birds, so we’re going to give you one as a pet. That you’ll somehow keep in your hotel, and then will somehow get back to America. It will shock you to learn that neither of those things happened.

She remembered, as I do, the huge fight I had with my parents in our kitchen, where I told them I hated the script and I hated the movie. I didn’t want to do it, and I hated that they were making me do it.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

“This is the only film you are being offered,” my mother lied to me. She made me feel like, if I didn’t do this movie, I would never do another movie again in my life. I had to do this movie. As my father bellowed, I had no choice.

Both of my parents denied this argument ever happened. Can I tell you how reassuring it is to know that my sister, who was also there, remembers it the same way I do?

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them.

But one thing she told me, the thing I did not know, the thing that makes me so angry I want to break things, actually managed to make the entire experience even worse than I remembered it.

There’s a scene after her chicken incident where I check up on her in her bedroom. She’s got cuts and bruises, and I guess we talk about it. I don’t remember and I can’t watch the movie because I’m terrified it will give me a PTSD flashback (I’ve had one of those and I recommend avoiding it). Here’s the thing about that scene: she has some cuts on her face, and those cuts are real. They are not makeup.

I’m going to repeat that. My nine-year-old little sister had actual cuts on her face that were placed there by an adult, on purpose.

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them. My sister told me our mother wasn’t in the makeup room when this happened — honestly, it seemed like our mother was strangely and conveniently absent when most of the really terrible things happened to us on the set — and when my sister told her what they’d done, she “lost her shit” at the production. She was pissed, I guess, which is appropriate and surprising. I wonder what would have to have happened for her to put us on a plane and get us home to safety? I mean, her son being abused daily didn’t do it, and her daughter being CUT IN THE FACE ON PURPOSE didn’t do it.

I just . . . I can’t. I can’t understand or comprehend allowing your own children to be physically and emotionally abused. They were literally selling my sister and me to these people, like we were some kind of commodity.

This was a tough conversation. My sister’s experience with our parents is very different from mine. My sister and I love each other. We’re close. I know it’s hard for her to hear that her brother, who she loves, was so abused by her parents, who she also loves. I was really grateful she made the time to talk to me about it, and grateful the experience wasn’t as horrible for her as it was for me.

As we were finishing our call, Amy also remembered one man, a young Italian named Luka, who was our driver for the movie. I haven’t thought about him in thirty years, but I can see his face now. He was kind, he was friendly, he taught us how to kick a soccer ball, and in the middle of an abusive, torturous experience, he stood out as a kind and gentle man. I mention him because she remembered him, which made me remember him, and goddammit I want at least one small part of this thing to not be awful.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares.

Ultimately, as I predicted and feared, this piece of shit movie cashed me out of respectable films forever. I got offers for movies, but they were always mindless comedies or exploitative horror films. They were never the serious dramas I wanted to work in after Stand by Me. The industry looked at me and River, wondering if one or both of us would become a breakout star. They quickly saw that River was doing real acting work, and I was in this piece of shit. For River, Stand by Me was a beginning. For me, it would turn out to be pretty much everything, at least as far as film goes.

There are thousands of reasons film careers do and don’t take off. Maybe mine wouldn’t have taken off anyway. Clearly, it’s not where my life ended up, and I’m super okay with that now. But when all of this happened, it hurt and haunted me.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares. Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

This annotation is the last thing I wrote before I turned this manuscript in, because opening these wounds is hard and painful. I put it off as long as I could, and I feel like I’m still holding back, because just this small glimpse of the experience has taken me a week to write. I can’t imagine trying to go back and unpack the whole thing. (Note that is not in the book: I’ve made an EMDR appointment to work on this because the nightmares have come back after the weekend).

Fuck The Curse, and fuck every single person who exploited and hurt two beautiful children to make it. You all participated in child abuse, and you all knew better. Shame on all of you. I hope this follows you to the end of your life. I hope that living with what you did to innocent children has been as hard for you as it has been for me, because you deserve no less.

#tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw exploitation #child actor #still just a geek #lucio fulci #trauma survivor #speaking up for the child who was silenced by his abusers

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vacayisland · 6 months

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Could you do a John Dory x Retired Singer/Musician Reader? Pls and thank you

(I loved meet the wifie I fucking cackled at "imma beat his ass!")

@!; Oldies are always better. John Dory / Retired! Reader

"Tag List"! @writergal02 @chamille-trash @valvalentine69 @starzwithapen @ykvlanq @apieceofcathair3 @kitthefanfickat

ꨄ︎. You were a big alt-indie musician, making music that tended to have a little bit of everything; the funk and beat of the funk tribe and the techno tribe, the guitar riffs and drum solos from the rock tribe, some classical instruments as undertones, and pop-like lyrics and beats. All the while you also put your own spin on it. Music had always been an outlet for you, always allowed you to take what was in your head and thread it into sound for everyone to hear. Sometimes it was chaotic, sometimes it was mellow, and it always depended on your mood when writing, composing, and singing. It's usually was drew people to your music. It was down to Earth, yet also complex and simple at the same time. Those who wanted to dive into the meaning of your music and dissect it would find multiple layers, many undertones that all harmonized. Those who just wanted to vibe out to your music could do that as well.

ꨄ︎. When you had left your career behind, it wasn't because of anything bad. You left with one final song in which explained that you were stepping down to let the new generation to find their own flow, to let other people take the stage, to be able to sit back and enjoy everything that will come in the future. You were only around 24 when you put down your guitar for the final time for the public; But you never gave up music for good on your own. While you never published anything anymore, you kept writing and composing for yourself as it was truly your passion.

ꨄ︎. This is when JD found you, playing in a friend's cafe. You had caught his attention right away, so much so he didn't hear the waiter when he had asked for JD's order. He was honestly so captivated by you for a moment he wondered if you were some sort of siren. He soon realized, yeah no you weren't, you just were really, really good. And he needed your number, badly. And that sounded a little creepy, but when you see someone who's not only good looking but knows how to sing and play an instrument all in one? You don't miss that chance to talk them up, and JD was defiantly not missing his chance!

ꨄ︎. JD didn't see a ring on your finger, it was fair game for him. Luckily you hadn't been seeing anyone at the time, but you still gave him a reality check after he approached you as though he was the coolest guy on the planet; Introducing himself before using some sort of cheesy pick up line to get your number. "Hey, babe, my name is John Dory and you seem rather lonely. You know, I can fill that 'me' shaped hole in your heart if you give me your number!" And then he winked!? Your friend was flabbergasted. You thought he was really brave.

ꨄ︎. And you hate to admit that his stupid pick-up line (which didn't even seem like a pick-up line!) actually worked and he got your number. (And he would be so smug and proud about this fact for the rest of his life.)

ꨄ︎. You two talked for a few months before making anything official, and then you waited about a year or two before you two even thought about moving in together. Even so, by 6 months of dating you basically lived in Rhonda; Your stuff littered his home, you had your own set of clothes there, your own toothbrush, and even your own house slippers. Then when you moved in, it felt natural. It felt like this was where you were always meant to end up and somehow the planets aligned. And for some reason JD never noticed the fact you brought in an electric guitar, which also sat in your shared closet. Sometimes you wonder if he's just stupid or a little blind, because he's also seen your play.

ꨄ︎. Either way, one day when he was hoisting his brothers over (after the whole Floyd situation got resolved, and god you were kind of glad you were staying with friends during all of that; not because you didn't like his brothers but because you didn't think you could handle meeting his family during that whole situation.) when they heard you playing your guitar in the bedroom. You weren't doing anything fancy, mostly tuning the guitar and making sure the strings didn't need to be replaced. But, of course, that always had to include one of your most iconic guitar riffs from a song about fighting your crushing mentality during the lowest part of your career. "Holy shit dude, I didn't know your lover listened to (Y/N)!" Branch would be the first to comment, being the most diverse music listener in the family. Floyd, who had been distracted by the riff, perked up at the conversation and nodded in agreement. JD only gave them a confused look, leaning against his kitchen counter, "Dude, my lover is (Y/N)?" And JD wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't all four of his brothers stopping and staring at him completely baffled. Mostly Floyd and Branch, who soon yelled a rather loud, "WHAT?!" "What?!" Which only confused JD more.

ꨄ︎. You hadn't met JD's family before this point, but you've heard all about them; Not only from JD, when he told you about his band days, and when you heard them around the trailer when they would come over. Usually you stayed in the bedroom, not to be rude yet to just let JD have his time with his brothers. Yet, you couldn't understand what all the yelling was about, "Yo, Que te pasa? Why the hell are you guys yelling?" You would ask, poking your head out of the door to the bedroom. Your expression tired, your hair messier, yet you could care less at this moment; You were sure JD's brothers wouldn't mind, they would see you worse later on since you were planning to stay with that big doofus. "Oh my god-" You flinched when Floyd dropped the cup he was holding, his jaw dropping upon seeing you; And honestly, for a second, you forgot you used to be a big artist. "John Dory," You started, startled by the reactions his brothers were giving, "Vas a decirme lo que esta pasando ahora mismo."

ꨄ︎. JD is always a little intimidated when you speak Spanish, mostly because his Grandma used to scold him and his brothers in Spanish. So he only explained (rather quickly) how his brothers had heard you tuning your guitar in the bedroom and how they just got weird. And that's when Branch defended himself, along with Floyd, how JD never told them that you were his lover! "And what's it to you that I love your brother?" You shot back quick and snappy, crossing your arms as you shot a glare their way. You weren't above throwing hands with JD's brothers. Floyd noticed the way JD glanced away, sipping his coffee. He was quick to stand up, placing a hand on Branch's shoulder to calm him, before explaining the whole situation to you better; Saying how Branch and Floyd were just big fans of your music and they didn't realize that you were with JD, because no matter how much JD spoke about you he never told them that you were his lover.

ꨄ︎. "Oh, Mierda lo siento." God, this made things a little awkward, "I thought you were about to be one of those horrible step-siblings that didn't like his brother's lover for some dumb reason like my hair." "What? No!-" "No, yeah, I see that now. My bad, really sorry." You mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck, "JD can be really, really dense sometimes, shut it John Dory!," You pointed a finger at JD before he could make a peep in protest about your slight insult, but it was made out of full love. "Let's start over, hi I'm (Y/n) and it's really nice to meet you."

ꨄ︎. Safe to say, JD forgot to tell his brothers that he was dating an old sensational artist...and kind of forgot you were one and was very shocked to realize this! Furthermore, you were a little flabbergasted when he revealed that some of BroZone's songs were influenced by your music. You would stare at JD after he confessed such a large secret, "Wow... that's a big insult." You mumbled sarcastically under your breath. "EXCUSE ME?!" But you guessed JD missed the sarcasm. "I'm being sarcastic, love. That's kind of sweet." Playfully rolling your eyes, you pressed a kiss into JD's cheek before turning back to his brothers. You crossed your legs, rested your elbow against your knee, and held your face in your hands. "Now about you four, how about we get to actually know each other. I'm planning to remain in this family after all..."

ꨄ︎. Safe to say that JD is wifing/husbanding/etc. you up really quick.

ꨄ︎. He still brags about how he first got your number and how he managed to 'snatch you up' before anyone else could. You told him he's too old to use new lingo and to stop, lovingly of course as you didn't want your 'husband' to embarrass himself. He melted hearing you call him husband before getting a bigger ego boost; And you had fun watching him terrorize his siblings while his ego was so inflated. You even jokingly did the whole 'I'm watching you' eyes to one of his brothers (Clay) as a silent threat that this is how you were always going to hand JD off to them like. He gave you the biggest (playful) stink eye ever. Yeah, you're going to fit right into this family.

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

#john dory headcanons #john dory x reader #trolls x reader #brozone x reader #trolls band together #john dory trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls #trolls fandom #trolls dreamworks #brozone #trolls 3 #john dory #floyd trolls #clay trolls #branch trolls #branch #trolls floyd

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vaspider · 1 year

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youve got a lot of really great thoughts on a transphobia and homophobia, tbh more critical thinking than most people on here, and i was wondering how much you knew about the theory of rapid onset gender dysphoria/if youd be comfortable sharing your thoughts on the ridiculous idea

It was explicitly invented by transphobes as a means of delegitimizing trans identity, and that invention was backed up by a "study" in which the person running the study never spoke to any trans people or to any professionals providing care for trans people, only spoke to the parents of trans minors, and those parents were specifically recruited from forums for anti-trans parents.

The paper which supposedly coined ROGD was taken down for a while and corrected. Further studies have found no basis for ROGD.

What's really interesting is in the cache of emails which became public earlier this year from a former detransitioner there's a paper trail which pretty clearly indicates that the term was actually created on a very heinous website called 4th/wave/now (forgive my anti-search slashes, these people are awful) well prior to the study.

Hey, you want to guess where the parents for this study were recruited from? If you guessed "the one where the term was invented," you're right!

But wait, there's more!

It appears from the journalistic work done by Mother Jones, Jude Doyle, and Julia Serano, that this term was created by an anti-trans activist who works extensively with right-wing think tanks and who went to great lengths to hide that she invented the term.

Jude Doyle:

Finding anti-trans narratives that would “sell” to the general public was a constant concern for this crowd, and Shupe says it didn’t much matter if the narratives were based in fact or not. Marchiano, for instance, eagerly watched the spread of the ROGD theory — “[transfeminist writer and researcher Julia] Serano has already written a takedown,” she exulted in one August 2018 email. Shupe suspects Marchiano’s role is larger than the public knows: “Marchiano never explicitly said she is the inventor of ROGD, but the evidence points to her, and she’s listed as a contributor to the [Lisa Littman] study on PLOS One,” she writes to me. “My ‘opinion’ is that Marchiano and the 4thWaveNow folks are behind the ROGD study, and Littman merely fronted it for them to make it appear unbiased.”

Jude Doyle again:

On July 2, Shupe sent Marchiano a link to Jones’ blog post telling her “you’ve upset Zinnia again.” (Shupe had a tendency to send Marchiano news of ROGD, and to attribute the theory to “you” — that is, to Marchiano — whether Marchiano was explicitly named or not. In the communications I’ve reviewed, Marchiano does not reject the attribution.) Marchiano responded by saying that Jones had done something to “make her nervous” — namely, she’d dug up a blog post about ROGD that Marchiano had written under her own name.

Julia Serano:

If all of this is true — that Marchiano ran YCTP and invented ROGD — then it would follow that Marchiano was also likely skepticaltherapist, the supposed parent of a trans child who invented the idea of “transgender social contagion” in the first place.

Julia Serano again:

Also on March 15, 2016, at 6:07am (so very early in the day, likely before the aforementioned YTCP piece is published), skepticaltherapist posts her final comment on 4thwavenow before mysteriously disappearing. In a reply to someone named Starrymessenger, skepticaltherapist says: 'I wanted to mention that this month’s Psychotherapy Networker is focusing on trans youth issues, and the tone of each article is uncritically celebratory — lots of mentions of “courage,” and “bravery.” You may need a subscription or at least an account to comment, but I have so far.'

At the time of this comment, "Lisa" is the *only* person to have posted a comment on this particular Psychotherapy Networker article, as the 2nd comment doesn't appear until later that evening (7:30:15 PM on March 15th; both 4thwavenow & Psychotherapy Networker appear to be based in the U.S., so the should be only a few hours apart, if at all). Therefore, "Lisa" and skepticaltherapist must be the same person.

Did you catch all of that?

This is a fraudulent "diagnosis" explicitly invented by an anti-trans psychologist who at times has used sockpuppets to manipulate online conversations, claimed at times to be the mother of a trans child, or maybe it was her friend who had the trans child, or maybe she just knew somebody who just randomly decided he was a trans boy after going on tumblr. (Boy, does Lisa Marchiano hate Tumblr, lol.)

After inventing this diagnosis and pushing it on a forum for parents who don't like that they have trans kids, Marchiano then approaches a different researcher and uses this other researcher to launder this term, launching it into the verbal stratosphere, while explicitly working with right-wing groups who used this "evidence" to manufacture anti-trans bills. This list of right-wing groups and individuals includes the Alliance Defending Freedom, the "American College of Pediatricians," -- not to be confused with the American Academy of Pediatrics, the legitimate organization, ACPeds is a fringe right-wing group.

They literally made all of this up, this idea that transmasculine people specifically are being "infected" by online sources, and then they laundered it through a shitty study and tried to hide the laundering they did, so that shit like this can happen:

The president of the American Principles Project, a member of the coalition, recently told the New York Times that his group’s goal is to eliminate all transition care, starting with children because that’s “where the consensus is.”

This isn't about protecting children or any bullshit like that, and it's not about this fallacious "disorder" because it doesn't exist -- and they know it doesn't exist. They know it doesn't exist because they were the ones who made it up.

Like... what else is there to say? It's like if I made up Purple Big Toe Disease and claimed that all people taller than 5'10" and born on a Tuesday have Purple Big Toe Disease and should not be able to buy aspirin, because it's G-d's plan that people who have Purple Big Toe Disease should not prevent themselves from feeling the pain that G-d has planned for them, and then I asked someone to write a paper about PBTD and pretend I wasn't the one who made it up so I could point at the paper and be like le gasp, PBTD is the number one problem! We need to stop everyone over 5'10" and born on a Tuesday from being able to buy aspirin! And then some dude in South Dakota starts writing up bills in consultation with a bunch of Evangelical lawyers to deny basic health care to people over 5'10" and born on Tuesdays.

If it sounds fucking ridiculous, it's because it is.

#trans issues #the lie of ROGD

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lynnlovesthestars · 8 months

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Hi! I’m new to your blog and have been loving all of your works!

If you’re comfortable with it, I was wondering how you think Astarion would react/feel about a virgin tav/reader who went through SA when they were younger, and wish to wait until they are both completely ready and comfortable with being intimate?

Hii, I can definitely do it, though i will merge it with another ask I received- asking to write hcs about Astarion learning Tav is a survivor.

I will say, making it with the hc has been a little easier on me, usually when i write about SA i spend an insane amount of time making sure i'm comfortable and you (readers) are as well, and i hesitate a lot before publishing it *(queue up scars and blood, that I wrote on an impulse after a nightmare, and it took me a solid week before publishing it)*

ANYWAYS.

ofc I hope this will be of comfort to you, and it won't trigger you.. sometimes all we want is to find solace into our favourite characters, so i wish tonight this will in a way comfort you...

and if anyone needs to vent, or talk, feel free to hit up my dm's, they are a safe space for anyone and i'll always offer up comfort.. we don't need to struggle alone, and sometimes being heard is what we need to make a new step forward<3

As always, my little stars, excercise kindness! we don't know who's gonna pass by this, and we don't know how hard it can be for them.

This being said, I hope you'll like it!

Headcanon: Astarion learning Tav is a survivor.

Pairing: Astarion x reader. Warnings: mentions of past trauma and SA. wc: 1.7k

-He starts suspecting something about it around the time of the tiefling party. He had offered to sneak out while everyone was asleep to "enjoy yourselves", but you refused right away. He definitely picked up some involuntary movement you did that told him there was more to the "I'm not ready". You probably flinched or jerked away, usually it would go unnoticed, but Astarion could recognize the subtle harshness hidden behind your reaction.

-He doesn't want to pry into it, as much as he needed to know as much as possible about you- he says for the sake of his undead skin- he wasn't entirely confident you trusted him enough to share your past. Also he wasn't sure he could handle someone confiding in him, but he would never admit it. At the end of the day, all he knew about social interaction were faint memories of his magistrate life, or means to survival. He simply wasn't sure he could have the empathy to deal with someone else's emotions, both in good and in bad.

-When you meet the gur, and you start peering into his past, he can't hide the very obvious rock in the shoe, Cazador and his spawn life, and it is because of the gur that you actually open up to him. When he starts going deeper and deeper into Cazador's orders to him and his repulsion towards sex, you do feel like you can share something so intimate, that's been heavy on you, well since it happened.

-The first time you mention it though, you are very blunt.

-"And honestly I don't know anything else besides disgust for it" He'd admit as he bit the inside of his cheek.

"I'm sorry, Astarion" You'd start, you wanted to hold his hand to comfort him, cause that kind of pain you knew. "I understand how you feel though. If you need—" He cut you short, anger was bubbling quickly in his stomach. You swore his face almost reddened in anger as he raised his voice.

"No, you don't" He was one sound shirt from hissing at you. "You cannot understand what it feels like" He'd sneer at you. "No one can understand what it feels like to be stripped of your bodily autonomy". In a way the harshness in his voice was like a slap to your face, cause you did in fact know. From the other, you didn't expect your brain to beeline directly towards that sealed drawer in your brain where you tried to hide the haunting memory.

“I went through it myself, you shithead” You got up, uncaring of whatever reaction he could have in that moment, and you just left.

-He was taken aback, on different levels, both because of your sudden shift in mood, because of the blunt reveal, and deep down because he was sorry, though again he’d never admit it out loud.

-You ignored him for the rest of the day, avoiding his stare and disappearing in your tent right after you were done setting camp, and that unsettled him so much that he was weighing the possibility of apologizing cause, of course, he didn’t know.

-You skipped dinner, and even when everyone else was asleep, you didn’t come out from your tent to take your usual nightly walk. The pang of guilt was becoming more like a stab as he saw the light in your tent still burning, and the faint shadow of you moving around restless.

-He prepared a peace offering, a bowl of the leftover stew, as he had to muster the guts to apologize.

-”Sorry, I was an asshole earlier, I brought you food” He blurted out right after he knocked on the wooden support of the tent, and he was surprised when you still let him in.

-Initially it was awkward, cause you were eating and not saying anything, but after a while he mustered up the courage to offer his shoulder to you. “If you even wish to talk” He’d say.

-You told him a bit of what happened, without going too much into detail, since you were still shaken from the memories that resurfaced.

-Since then he started to learn your boundaries: how to catch your attention without startling you, what were triggering topics for you, how you liked physical touch, and how it triggered you as well.

-In a way he becomes very protective of you, especially if you open up more often about your trauma, and you can see it.

-He made sure everyone respected your boundaries, whether it was Gale with his weave thing pulling you too close, or a stranger breathing on your neck, he was always ready to remind them of their place.

-”Don’t you see our dear captain doesn't want to be that close?!” “Keep your hands to yourself, they don't like being grabbed by the wrists” “Get away from her, before I stab you”

-He noticed how you always double checked the perimeter of the camp before the sun would set, and before getting in your tent you’d always look around in the distance, trying to spot if something was out of place. So he joined you in your routine, helping you check around and make sure you were ready in case anything could have happened.

-As you get closer, and you both open up more to each other, he even suggests he moves his tent closer to yours. “I can keep an eye around” Was his explanation, when he first brought it up.

-And it helped so much with your sleep, you felt a little safer.

-If you didn’t feel safe at night, he’d suggest putting your tents together into one. Maybe it was a way to keep you closer, or he needed reassurance, but he made sure you knew you could place your bedroll anywhere as far or as close to him as you liked.

-Eventually as your bond would deepen and deepen, and you’d grow fond of each other, you found yourselves rediscovering your touch together. It started with your fingers tapping on his arm as you were walking, or a strand of your hair being pulled behind your ear. Some nights you’d sit close in your tent, and would hold hands, caress each other’s cheeks, and slowly even reach out for a kiss or two.

-It was a slow process, where you really got to know each other like no one else ever did. You could read each other like a book, yet you never shied away from asking each other for consent for anything.

-”Can I hold your hand” “Can I kiss your cheek” “Can I rest my head on your chest”

-The thing you both struggled with the most, was falling asleep holding each other. You’d panic very quickly when you would feel your chest becoming tighter. He’d move away as quickly as possible, and give you the space you needed.

-When he confesses he has been falling for you, it’s time to approach the very delicate topic of sex. You opened up about the fact that you wanted to wait ‘till you were ready, and he agreed without hesitation. Of course because he understood where you came from, he never asked for any help either, if he’d feel like he needed some release, he’d disappear for a bit and deal with it himself, without making you feel like a burden.

“I just want to make sure we are on the same page on this” You’d say as you crossed your arms, almost as if you wanted to fold yourself in and away. “If you want to have sex, I can’t right now” You’d start saying, but stop on your tracks for a second. “Wait, not that I can’t. I don’t want to have sex at the moment” You’d correct yourself, confident in your statement, he wasn’t even thinking about it, though he respected completely.

“I get it, and it’s okay my love” He’d say, patting your shoulder, and wondering whether he wanted to hold your hand or kiss it, he wanted to let you know he truly understood. “I don’t want to either” He smiled, and in that moment it was like both you two finally breathed. You’d reach for his hand to hold it in yours.

“It’s not because of you though” You wanted to explain to him, you were so close it was something you were ready to share, especially since you were slowly walking towards a different level of intimacy together, he had to know. “I want to do it when we are both ready”

“I understand, my sweet, there’s no need for explanations” He’d smile again, one of his fangs slightly poked out against his lip. “You said you don’t want sex yet, so it’s no”

“I’m a virgin” You’d blurt out, and that was something he didn’t entirely expect.

“Oh” He’d say at first, but as he noticed your cheeks slowly warming up, he pulled you closer to him, his forehead against yours. “It’s okay, I don’t care about it” He’d exhale. “As long as it’s you, I don’t care about anything”

-When you reach Baldur’s Gate and finally you settle in the elfsong tavern, you made sure you always had a corner of time dedicated to helping each other relearn touch.

-You'd lay next to each other in different levels of nakedness depending on how you felt at the moment, and you'd spend your time tracing each other's features. Whenever you'd feel comfortable enough to venture into a new thing, he'd ask for permission.

-"Would you feel comfortable if I touched your hips?" "Can I trace your scars with my fingers?” “May I pull you closer?”

-You didn't fight time, you didn't rush towards sex. It came slowly and it was a process full of ups and downs. Some attempts ended up with you both sobbing, too overwhelmed. Other's ended up with panic attacks. Eventually though, after a lot of work together, you reached a point where you'd be able to make love.

-it was a very soft moment between you two. It involved a lot of comforting, kisses and patience, but it was something so profound, it wasn't only about shared pleasure, but it was about connecting your bodies and your souls. In a way it was like a wedding for you two it was the peak of trust you could have with each other.

-He'd whisper so many times how proud he was of you, how much he loved you, and how glad he was that you were the one that would spend their life with him.

-Tears eventually arrived, they were the tears of two souls that finally had reclaimed a bit of their freedom. It was the cries of someone that was finally healing.

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hedgehog-moss · 1 year

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The text updates I was sending a friend while at the protest in Paris yesterday are kind of tragically funny, it goes from "the cops are staying away and as a result everything's going well, they clearly received better orders today, I'm glad" to "wait, no, forget that"

1. "Everything's going well, there are a couple of small fires but no one cares, the crowd calmly avoids them, some people stop to warm their hands over them, it's very civilised. I don't think the people who set stuff on fire are the problem, when the cops stay away everything goes smoothly"

2. "There are groups of CRS with batons and shields in the side streets but they stay very discreet compared with the other protests and weirdly enough this one is calmer!"

3. My friend : "Maybe they received different orders today"

Me "Yeah it's a miracle, someone made a sensible decision"

4. "We just passed another side street full of cops and I heard someone said "last time they started charging us, we had no idea why" so yeah they clearly received different instructions today"

Less than 10min later: "never mind we're being tear gassed"

Then: "Never mind they just charged us several times we have no idea why"

"I arrived at the end point of the march, looked back and there was a fresh new cloud of tear gas over the (very calm, many elderly people) groups in the middle of the march. More police cars + a water cannon are arriving"

Can't overstate how calm the protest was, just people (100K to 300K according to estimates) walking from point A to point B while holding signs. There were a few trash fires but if they'd sent firefighters to extinguish them people would have let them through... I had friends who walked in the middle of the march to avoid any trouble or gas and they still got tear gassed without knowing why. Even supposing there were people ahead of me I couldn't see who were being more antagonistic towards the CRS, surely the hundreds of cops present could have somehow dealt with that without charging and bludgeoning peaceful protesters and tear gassing thousands of people? Right now it's not possible for French citizens to peacefully assemble without getting systematically gassed by police.

Here's a video of when they first charged the front of the march, the people they're hitting can't move back any faster (I was somewhere in the compact crowd behind wondering (cause I'm not tall I couldn't see anything 😭) why we were suddenly being pushed back when things had been calm and fun until then. People who had been there before were coaching others like 'don't try to run, you'll make the people behind panic, just walk fast'). I counted five or six tear gas grenades going off

From what I've heard from people who were at the protest, the ones who didn't get gassed are the ones who were at the back of the march and left early without completing the march (some left because they saw the cloud of gas ahead). I've also seen people at other protests in various cities yesterday describing a similar situation : peaceful crowd getting separated in two by a charge, gassed and soaked with water cannons, most people having no idea why. If I had to describe this in terms of police strategy it would be, gas as many people as possible to dissuade your average peaceful protester from completing the march and showing up next time, and be aggressive towards the front of the march to rile them up and get nice images of youth burning things or throwing stuff at cops to show on the evening news and turn public opinion against protesters.

(Note that the society of journalists working for France Télévision (public TV, like the French BBC) have published a statement decrying the poor framing of the protests on the national news, saying too much emphasis was placed on the small amount of people destroying stuff and almost nothing on police brutality and the record numbers of (peaceful) protesters in the streets.) (Read this if you're French and have been wondering why some people around you still don't think the situation is worrying...)

Anyway, I'm glad I went. It was good to see so many people just as angry as I am about what's happening to this country and guillotine-chan was in attendance, and many people had very fun signs and I liked this angry flag:

#frpol #(les fautes d'ortho dans les sms c'est pas de ma faute mon tel arrêtait pas de m'autocorriger à tort...)#la situation continue d'être surréaliste je dois dire que #''au milieu d'une crise politique le Président répond aux questions de ses concitoyens dans Pif Gadget'' m'a prise par surprise

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kalims · 2 years

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‎˃ ᵕ ˂ . . "i kinda wanna throw my phone across the room 'cause all I see are girls too good to be true"

jealousy, jealousy,

I reckon yuu has atleast some people admiring them for their 'heroic' acts for each dorms, ironically enough

characters. riddle, leona, azul, kalim, vil, idia, malleus.

includes. gn!reader, flowers aren't limited to girls.

cw. each has a student from their dorm/another liking reader, book 5 spoilers? kinda.

note. this was supposed to be for celebrating 4k and originally I had a fic that I was supposed to publish but I got really busy w/ school and stuff so I supposed I'll just drop this 😚 I'm also sick btw *cries

if someone asked you; "what do you think the students see you as?" you'd probably answer, "a wannabe I guess." technically you were sure that you were right about your guess. if there's anything that you'd know about a school that worships villians is that they'd hate someone whose the polar opposite.

which is you, with you basically 'saving' the dorm leaders and all. atleast the person in question didn't seem to pick at you for helping them and not going like 'I don't need your help.'

which is also why you're.. shocked to say the least when some random student you can't say that looks familiar hands you a bouquet of flowers, clearly flushing at your stare. you notice a white envelope tucked into the variety of flowers as well as a box of chocolates.

funnily enough you wondered if twisted wonderland celebrated valentines day on a different month.

albeit the possibly hundred other gazes from the other people. why'd they have to do this in the cafeteria exactly? it would've saved you the trouble if they did it on a more private scale.

you can only smile at them politely. honesty feeling a mixture of embarrassment and shyness cause you've never received such a bold confession yourself. "thank you?" you feel a little bad when they deflate at your short answer to their gifts but nevertheless pleased.

"you're welcome. I tried to pick out the flowers for someone as special as you but it can't compare." they absent-mindedly state. you can't hide the grin on your face, you just met this person and they're already flattering you. it feels nice to be appreciated.

kinda cringe but you take it back this person is really cool.

— riddle rosehearts

bystander number 1. who wants to collar that person by anger, along with jealousy then proceed to stomp away. riddle would actually do that but only when you're not around cause you'd probably not be too happy if he punishes your 'friend' and he wants you to see him as the 😇 reliable young lad everyone loves.

suddenly had the will to impress you and one upped everything the other person did. so they got a 49 on the magical analysis test? that's too bad, riddle got 50. get on his level. so they answer correctly only when called? well riddle's voluntarily raising his hand and getting them all correct. oh they can cook?

oh well. he can do everything else better else than cooking so it doesn't really matter. you'd be a fool to choose someone else over him. but he supposes its part of the charm, infatuatingly enough.

— leona kingscholar

bystander number 2 who either just doesn't care or is secretly really mad. knowing leona it's probably the latter because it's leona and if there's something he hates it's probably getting upped by some random person whom he's clearly better than. you must be really blind if you have the audacity to ramble about said person to him.

went really grumpy for the span of days to weeks. ruggie literally would do anything you ask if it meant that leona's gonna be to his old self, lazy sure but he didn't used to place this much work on him!

your fault or not you'd probably also get affected by his drastic change of attitude. bro literally ignored you as well as everyone else, reverting to his mean self but treating you with more bitterness. it's probably not your fault but he doesn't regret a thing because you actually look upset when he pays you no mind. so you do feel something for him 😒😏. flashbacks to kaeya

— azul ashengrotto

bystander number 3. who's borderlining between wanting to get depressed then crawl in his octo pot to cry and absolutely ruining everything this random cheap made. I mean, really? those aren't even your favorite flowers! where did they get them, at the nearest dollar store? if he were them he'd give you the most expensive flowers you'd ever lay your eyes on!

and that's what he does actually; literally showed up on your doorstep with a handsome smile and gave you the most prettiest flowers you've seen yet. consider yourself charmed! bro literally made you forget about that other person for days until you saw them like a month later which is kinda bizarre..

the twins don't let you know that azul put them up on a 'job' to keep em' away. but it does use for good blackmail material against the jealous octopus.

— kalim al asim

bystander number 4. legit doesn't get jealous. kalim literally is just happy that you have admirers like him because you deserve it! he'd be more upset if you didn't have admirers honestly. okay but lowkey though, he isn't trying to compete at all but you receive a large bouquet, definitely much grander than the one you received and a heartfelt letter tucked into it.

how was that person supposed to win you over when kalim does it better?? ok but this is like the jamil situation in book 5 LOL.

if he actually somehow gets jealous he feels bad because he knows he'll do it better ( not condescending /gen ) so he just resorts to trying to win your affection and forgets about not trying then completely overshadowed the other person's previous attempts. bro only spared a 'I feel bad' look then smiling again because yay! you like him better now :)

— vil schoenheit

bystander number 5. AKA, the one who knows he'll do better and actually does do it better ( condescending ). vil doesn't even bother doing anything cause he trusts you enough to make the.. correct, choice. you do know that he's one of the most sought off person in the world, right? you'd be a fool to not see that.

okay but maybe he is a little paranoid that you actually will choose them so he actually does put in effort..

I mean nearly everyone is scared terrified of rook right? what's one more person to the count? he totally does not purposely send out rook to stalk them so he can expose them on social media .. or make him stall them somewhere so he has the chance to whisk you away and you losing the ability to see them for this day.. oh well, it's better to just spend it with vil since you're free anyways..

— idia shroud

bystander number 6 who was there but actually not there..? physically not present but he was there, somehow.. *looks at camera in the far, FAR corner of the ceiling*. idia doesn't know whether to start crying because you actually looked happy with their CRINGE. confession.. the crying is a more intense period than azul's btw.

or.. actually there's no or, that's just what he's gonna do. close his electronic device, crawl into his bed and cry into his body pillow. fear not. little brother ortho to the rescue! ortho actually suggested destroying any evidence of a 'disappearance' if that poor soul just happened to not be present for years but idia quickly shot that idea down, he actually pondered on agreeing but no way he's gonna let them win by that!

hijacks all their phones, PC's, whatever other stuff so that it's completely off, no other person can fix it besides him. and he's definitely not gonna do that so the person ghosts you for weeks, so you get mad and ghost them irl.. wow his masterplan actually worked. no ortho pls don't force me to 'comfort' them..

— malleus draconia

bystander number 7 who genuinely doesn't see the appeal of this basic little b— human :). like? hello?? he's right here, open your eyes child of man. no need to tolerate the pathetic display they just did that doesn't live up to your very existence, they might as well compare you to gravel on the floor from how poor they executed their weird analogy.

he could legit go on and on about every single feature you have, your eyes, mouth, face, shape.. he would present you a microsoft presentation for it if you ask and it literally is godly description type of thing. you could finish listening to one of them and you'd be in TEARS ☠.

bros so sentimental. he thanks lilia for the advice of microsoft presentation because you now look completely convinced. malleus has the pride to spare the other person a smirk when your attention is fully on him :D.

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cringe-but-proud · 5 months

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Hello! I noticed that your requests are open.

I was wondering if I could request a (2023) Wonka x Fem! Reader where she’s a writer who had/has been writing about the happenings with the startup of Willy’s chocolate shop, and writes about chocolate but has yet to find a chocolate she really likes so Willy makes it his mission to create something perfect for her, which leads to the two of them falling in love?

No pressure if you can’t! Have a great day!

Yea

Willy Wonka x Fem! Interviewer!Reader (Wonka 2023)

A/n: Just wanna say thanks for all the support! I was really nervous about posting my writing, but y'all have been nothing but supportive 😽 My requests are open (see pinned post for info) feel free to request any character 😛

After the sudden success of Wonka's chocolate and the downfall of the chocolate cartel, there were a lot of publishers around wanting to get the story of exactly how this all occured.

Willy was getting a lot of requests for one on one interviews from a lot of different people. But, he decided to do one with the only interviewer he'd met before.

Y/n.

She'd talked to him before all of his success, back when he was still hiding from the chocolate cartel and having to do his business in secret.

She was one of the few people who had taken him seriously while also not seeing him as a threat.

He was a bit excited to get to see her again.

The interview was happening in the part of his factory that was considered his office (he didn't like that title, because it sounded "too serious"). When Y/n arrived for the interview Willy sat right next to her.

"Thanks for letting me talk with you." She started. "I can imagine you've gotten a lot of offers from different publishers to talk about everything that's been happening lately."

Willy nodded. "There have. But, I wanted to see you." He replied, offering her a soft smile.

"Oh?" She tilted her head. "Is there a reason for that?"

"For wanting to see you? Of course there is. It's because I already know who great you are at this." He stated. "After the last time we talked, Noodle read me the part of the paper that our interview was in."

"Noodle?"

"Oh, Noodle's sort of like my business partner. The brains of the operation."

She nodded. "Could you tell me more about that?"

"Absolutely."

Willy went on talking about Noodle, how she'd helped him, the adventures they'd gone on, and how close they'd gotten. Y/n continued asking questions, Willy gave adequate answers, and eventually, Y/n closed the notebook she was writing in with a satisfied nod.

"I think that'll be enough for now." She said. "Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

"Yes, actually." Willy leaned forward in his seat. "I wanted to ask you a few questions."

She blinked. "Oh?"

"I feel like you know a lot about me, but I don't know anything about you." He explains. "And I think I'd like to learn about you."

She was a bit flattered by that and gave him a faint smile. "Alright... Feel free to ask me your questions."

"Why'd you become an interviewer?" He asked.

"I think everyone's story is worth telling." She began. "And what better way is there to learn about someone's story than by asking them directly?"

Willy liked that answer. "How long have you been an interviewer?"

She thought for a moment. "The first time I interviewed someone was for a school project when I was 15. So, technically... 7 years."

He liked doing this. He liked learning about her. Maybe he just liked talking to her.

"What's your favorite chocolate?" He asked.

"I don't have one."

"What?!" His eyes widened. "Everyone has a favorite chocolate!"

She shrugged. "I don't."

"Do you not like chocolate?"

"It's not that I don't like it. I've just never tried a chocolate that stuck out to me."

Willy couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could someone not have a favorite chocolate?! "Well, we've gotta change that." He said as he got out of his seat.

"Wha-"

"Follow me!" He took her hand and began leading her down the halls of his factory.

She was about to protest, but she realized she didn't have anywhere she needed to be. And why would she pass up the opportunity to spend more time with a guy who was this cute?

He led her through the factory, stopping in different rooms to let her try the many variations of chocolate he'd made. And each time she said the same thing.

"It's good."

He was glad she didn't hate anything he'd given her, but he wanted to impress her! He didn't know why he wanted to impress her so badly, he just knew this was something he needed to do.

After several more attempts at wowing her, Willy sighed, feeling a bit defeated.

"Well, Y/n..." He said. "I guess you really don't have a favorite chocolate..."

Oh god, now she felt bad. She thought for a moment before speaking again. "Y'know, now that I'm thinking about it," She said. "I really liked the third one that you let me try."

His eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think that one's your favorite?"

"Definitely."

He beamed. "That's great! That's amazing! I'm so glad you found one you liked!"

Y/n smiled at his excitement. Truthfully, she couldn't even remember what the third chocolate she'd eaten was. But, if saying it was her favorite made Willy this happy, then it was definitely her favorite.

She finally left the factory, surprised to see that the sun was starting to go down which meant she'd probably spent a good 4 hours with Willy. She'd barely gotten 2 steps down the street when she was stopped.

"Wait!" She turned to see Willy running toward her holding a jar of... Something. He stopped in front of her and caught his breath for a moment before handing her the jar. "This is for you."

Y/n looked at Willy, at the jar, and then back at Willy. "Why?"

"Because it's your favorite." He smiled at her.

"Oh!" He was giving her a gift. That made sense. "Right. I knew that. Thank you."

"It's no problem. We should... Talk again soon." Willy suggested.

"For another interview?"

"Just to talk with each other." He smiled at her. "I think you're fun to talk to."

"Oh." A blush creeped on to her cheeks at that. "I'd like that."

His smile widened. "Great! I'll be looking forward to it." He began to step backwards toward his factory. "Till next time, Y/n."

Y/n gave him a small wave goodbye before finally continuing to walk away.

A couple minutes into her walk she opened the jar he'd given her and popped one of the chocolates into her mouth.

Maybe this one really was her favorite.

#x reader #fanfiction #wonka x reader #wonka 2023 x reader #willy wonka x reader

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swamp-adder · 2 months

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I keep wondering about the financial situation between Holmes and Watson after the Hiatus. At Holmes' request, Watson quits his job and moves back in with Holmes to continue helping him with cases. Did Watson receive any kind of payment for his help -- a cut of the money Holmes received from his clients perhaps? A lot of fanfiction seems to assume they were equal partners and Watson got half; but honestly any scenario I can imagine seems awkward to me in one way or another:

- Watson being treated as an equal partner and getting half the money seems awkward when according to what's depicted in the stories Holmes was doing the vast majority of the actual work and Watson was mostly there because Holmes liked having someone to talk to.

- Watson receiving some money, but not a full half, makes Watson explicitly subordinate to Holmes in an employer/employee relationship, which just seems like an awkward dynamic to introduce into any friendship.

- Watson not getting paid at all would be awkward because Watson just quit his job for the sake of helping Holmes out, and has also been forbidden by Holmes from publishing any more stories for the time being. Meanwhile Holmes at this point in his career we're told is absolutely rolling in dough, creating a serious income disparity between them which could hardly help but be awkward.

Watson's financial resources that we know of at this point would consist of his wound pension and whatever royalties he's still getting from his earlier stories, plus the money he got from "Verner" for his medical practice. We're told in DYIN that Holmes' "payments [for the flat] were princely. I have no doubt that the house might have been purchased at the price which Holmes paid for his rooms during the years that I was with him." That makes it sound like Holmes was more than paying the full rent for the apartment by himself, so at the least Watson was probably living there for free. (This quote is from DYIN, which seems to be set pre-Hiatus, so this arrangement might have begun even by then.) Which also seems potentially awkward -- like something that could make Watson feel like a freeloader or whatever.

Honestly it's very understandable why Watson never explicitly talks about money, because the whole thing is just awkward any way you slice it!!

In the earlier days the whole thing seems less awkward to me because a) Holmes had less money himself and b) Watson is just choosing not to get a job and to run around with his friend instead, rather than having given up his career specifically at Holmes' request.

One thing that makes the "Watson lives for free at Holmes' place, eats out at Holmes' expense etc but doesn't get paid in cash" scenario seem more likely to me is the fact that Holmes felt the need to give Watson a bunch of money sneakily through buying his practice -- it makes me think he felt like he couldn't pay him in a more straightforward, above-board way -- that Watson would be offended by it or whatever.

On the other hand I was also reading some stuff on the wiki about the concept of the "lady's companion", where a usually single upper-class woman would invite a single female friend to live with her and pay her an "allowance" in exchange for social companionship. The companion was technically an employee but was treated more like a member of the family. Now, there are reasons why this arrangement was specific to women: a) there were very few ways for an upper-class woman to actually earn a living that wouldn't compromise her upper-class status; and b) upper-class women were expected to stay at home most of the time, so a woman living alone (especially in the country) could easily become lonely. But it does show that there was at least some kind of concept in this historical era of "living with a wealthy friend and being financially supported by them as if you were family" without it being Weird. So yeah IDK.

#i am not a historian disclaimer #sherlock holmes #acd holmes

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celestialtarot11 · 6 months

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Messages from your pet/s 🐱🌜💖

Hi friends! A long time ago I said I would publish a PAC reading centered around messages from your pets 💗 here it is! Enjoy 🍵 feel free to like, comment and reblog! Pick a bouquet —>

Pile 1: The Magician • 4 of wands

Hi pile 1’s! Welcome to your pile 💗🍵 I feel your per first of all, loves hanging around you. They could actually be your soulmate manifested in a different being this lifetime 🤍 they are your other half essentially. Some of you may own black cats! I feel right away your pet has an auspicious message about a new event, person or celebration coming up for you. This could be something you actually wanted and it’s coming your way 🤗 so definitely enjoy that! That sounds wonderful and I feel your pet is actually guiding your manifestations in a way. They are a guardian, and they also protect you from energies that don’t serve your highest good in this lifetime. Their existence deflects negativity! I heard a long time ago if cats purr they are taking away pain or something 🤔 I have no idea how true this is, but comment below and let me know! Because I am seeing a cat rubbing against you and purring a lot to get rid of evil eye 🧿🪬 so your animals are very protective, even the ones that aren’t a cat 🤣 they do watch over you, and love to spend time with you 🙌 I think if there is someone you don’t like, they will know right away and give that person a full on stare, or not interact with them. Thats your sign your animal supports you 💅🏻 and also is saying that person is negative (I heard full of shit but I resorted to respectful tactics 🤣) wow so your pet is definitely not one to mess with! I hope you are all well pile 1’s! Thank you for coming by and I appreciate any support to this blog 🤍

Pile 2: Seven of wands • Ace of cups

Hi pile 2’s! Welcome to your reading 🤗💘 excited to have you here! Lets see what messages your pet has for you. I see that they feel fulfilled, cared for and loved by you. They have a special spiritual bond with you, so maybe you see them in dreams, or they will have messages for you in your waking life when you spend time with them. Sometimes its almost like, “wait, why can I hear you talking? Im the human one” 🤣 now, unless you have schizophrenia, which please be careful and get that checked out! Your animal is trying to communicate with you via intuition, and loves to connect with you that way. You two share a special soul bond. A message they have is to persevere any issue you have right now, and they believe in you 🙌 they got your back, and they believe in your ability to move past an issue or situation! Or if times have been rough, they want to be there for you and spend time with you to make you feel better 🥹💘 honestly that is so sweet. But they definitely want to see you smile again. Im drawn to notice how the ace of cups in this deck has a bouquet too 🤣 just like our piles themes. So get some flowers if you’re not allergic. Put them in your space! Or garden, if it’s not winter in your hemisphere. Caring for plants is important now. Or being in nature will lift your energy 💘🤗 thank you pile 2’s! I appreciate you coming by, please support this blog in any way you can 🍵🙌

Pile 3: The lovers • 5 of swords

Hi pile 3’s! 💘🍵🤍 Welcome, please enjoy this message brought to you by your loving pet. So far I see if they have passed away, or had an injury they remember you 🥹💘 they did not forget you at all. They are watching over you. And somehow I feel they left something for you behind, there’s almost an energetic baggage of love and abundance at your doorstep. In a good way, they left behind something beautiful you can transform in this lifetime. Whether they are alive or not, your pet has brought in a different energy into your life and you probably noticed the shift right away. This could be an emotional support animal! This pet brought love and care into your life, and they are thankful for your presence 🤗💘 they miss you always, even if they are around you now. Some of you may have had a parakeet, or a bigger bird. They want you to remember the good times and smile because you had them 🤍 so whether your pet is alive or not, they want you to enjoy your moments with them, and everyone. There’s such an unconditional loving energy here, its beautiful 🥹💗 they want you to be accepting, and less harsh on yourself is what I heard. You did all you could is also something I heard. I forgive you. There are some intense energies here, please take care pile 3’s ❤️‍🩹 I am wishing you the best and all the love and peace!

Paid Readings 🍵💘

Distance Energy Healing Services💌🧘‍♀️

#devi post #astrology #astrology community #tarotcommunity #divination #tarot deck #tarot #witchcraft #tarot reading #astrology observations #astro posts #astrology notes #astro notes #we love pink 💗💗#pick a pile #pick a card romance #pick a picture #pick a card #pick one

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dawnoftime22 · 5 months

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"my love, darling, sweetheart."

| W.M ( -> N.R )

Undeserving of a love like yours, Chapter 1

Chapter Warnings: None (series warnings in series masterlist)

Summary: A peaceful day spent with Wanda.

Series Summary: When you're stuck in a complete hole of confusion and hurt with the one you thought you loved most, a certain redhead finds her way into your life.

Word Count: 2.1k

Category: Fluff, for now.

A/N: well here it is finally :] this is an old story of mine I never published that I decided to remake, finish up, and post gradually, that miiight also eventually break your heart...but I hope you all enjoy <3

| Started on 29/12/2023, 11:19 PM |

| Finished on 05/01/2024, 9:28 AM |

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | N.R Masterlist

Chapter 2 ->

“Let the sun kiss your skin softly.”

|——————————— ᗢ ———————————|

It was a sunny day. The sun kept shining in your eyes, and you had to shield yourself with your hands.

You held your hands out to the sky, as if touching it, but only the wind visits your hand. That is practically the sky, after all. Air. Wind. Moisture. You curl your fingers into a fist, firmly clenching it to perhaps capture the cool breeze, only to feel the warmth of your hand's skin against each other, making the cold fade away.

You end up letting your arm drop down to your side, and sigh. There was nothing better, truly, than soaking in a moment of calmness like this. Upon hearing footsteps though, you await what comes for you.

A familiar brunette appears in your view above, eradicating the sunshine and the bright blue sky. She looked down on you softly, your body laying restfully against the grass that moved along with the wind, but is flat underneath your back.

"I got us cakes," she says, sitting down beside you and putting the container down on the ground. You carefully prop yourself up with your elbows until you're sat up properly.

It was your favorite kind. Your lips turn up into a smile, and you grab the small fork while your legs settled into a criss-crossed position. Your hands reached to open the container, the corners clicking open.

The brunette watched you with amusement as you didn't hesitate to grab it. The bakery you loved was right near the park you're at, so it was the perfect time to go when it caught her eye. The man behind the counter had happily greeted her, knowing she's the partner to one of the patrons. The patron, is of course, you. But it was starting to become her new favorite bakery, too.

Wanda had also gotten a bag of warm freshly baked cookies, so she opted to unravel the top of the paper bag and take one, her cake sitting unopened next to yours.

You hum when the smell of the lovely cookies traveled to your nose, making you turn your head to her instead of your slice of cake. She was taking a bite of the cookie, the piece melting in her mouth.

Your hand leaves the fork in the cake container and goes to grab one for yourself, little crumpling noises making sound from the bag as it moved due to your hand.

While the both of you ate your delicacies, you soon space out far off in the distance of the park. Somewhere near there, someone sat at a bench with birds surrounding them and some seeds in their hand.

Beside the scene was another of a little golden retriever happily playing around with another dog, chasing each other around, and sometimes the two of them would stop, the husky looking dog teasing the other one by moving its paws forward, but not running again.

You soon stop focusing on those and turning your attention back to Wanda, but once you look at her, an irresistible smile grows on your face and you have to turn to your cake instead.

"What?" She asks, a breath of a laugh coming through the word. Wanda wondered why you would turn away so quickly. She knew she could make you blush easily, but she hasn't even said or done anything.

"Nothing, you just have some crumbs near your mouth." You shook your head, taking a spoonful of your cake to put in your mouth and look at her once more.

"Oh." Her hand goes up to wipe it off her face, but she went to the wrong side. Her eyes focused on you, visibly struggling to find it because she knows it's not gone due to simply your smile growing.

"No, the other side." You say, helping her. She gets it and looks at you expectantly. You nod, and put a thumbs up, making her reflect your smile.

"You got it." You finish off the last of your cake, and pop the lid back on. Soon your attention drifts off to the sky and the gold shining through the clouds. Wanda follows, and sees the sun behind you, making you glow like an angel.

"We should go to the lake. We can take some beautiful pictures there." She said, tiltng her head slightly, and you see her brunette hair starting to soak in the sunlight. Your eyes brightened at the sentence though, and a soft gasp comes from you.

"Yes! We should." Her lips rise up into a smile once more, and she grabs the bag of cookies before going to stand up. You follow along with your empty container and hers that still had a cake.

You turn to walk with her towards the nearby lake. Since the sunset was only just starting, you had more than enough time to arrive there. A cool breeze goes by, visiting your skins and your hairs. The water that started to come into your view properly, too, was moving with the wind.

The trees shaped the lake beautifully and openly. Not many people were around, especially because nighttime is soon coming around. But it made it all the more better.

Wanda took out her phone from her pocket and started taking some pictures. You stood by, but placed down the containers at a nearby bench and kneeled down to grab a couple small rocks to keep in the palm of your hand.

A thought to take some pictures, too, crossed your mind, but with the present reason of having forgotten to bring your camera, you decided against it.

You stood up and held only one rock in the other hand, throwing it on the water. It jumped lightly against it and splashed, until it dropped to below the water. Wanda turns her phone to you and you look at her.

"Nooo, don't take pictures of me! Look at the lake!" You point your finger towards it before throwing another rock. She moved her phone along the movement, and you assumed she was not just taking pictures, but videos. That rock went farther than the previous one.

"But you're more beautiful than the lake or the sunset!" She says, and you shake your head with a tinge of blush on your face. Once she was done, she walked closer to you with a smile and put her hand out.

You gave her the rest of the rocks in your hand except for one and she threw them. It only jumped twice and you try your hardest not to laugh or smile too wide.

"Okay, that was only my warmup." She says, looking at you with a warning before preparing for another throw. You only hum in response, knowing that it was an obvious excuse.

Wanda throws another, and it does skip farther, before it splashed entirely and disappeared into the water. The clouds had melted into the skies by now, and the last rock you had, you put into one of your pockets.

"I think that one jumped more than yours." You grabbed the cakes and turned away from the lake, now starting to walk to, perhaps, the car. The brunette was behind you anyways though, the place seemed to get darker, with the sun sinking down in the horizon.

"Nope, it did not." You say softly, glancing at her before focusing on the path towards the car once more. She raised her eyebrows at you. To be honest, the two of you got the same amount of jumps in the water with the rocks.

"Sure it did." She adds, wanting to be right. You were getting closer to the car, and she brought out her keys from her pocket, unlocking the car.

"Nope." You repeat, a playful smile on your face when she managed took a look at it at from her driver side just through the windows. She shakes her head with a smile of her own.

You pull the door handle and it opens. You sit in the passenger's side and close the door, your next move being to click the seatbelt on. Wanda had already done the same, and she's starting the engine.

The car powers up and the screens light on. She makes sure to adjust the ac temperature before moving from off the parking spot and into the main road slowly and carefully.

As the truck tires hit the road, the quiet humming of the car is added with the sound of concrete and small pebbles hitting the tires. You look out the window and watch the other cars pass by. There's people on the side of the street.

A florist, holding a boquet of flowers ready to go in a vase. Or perhaps a bought gift, as they're heading for their bicycle. The warm sunlight shone down on the florist, making out a pretty scene. Oh, dear, moments like these filled your heart with life.

Wanda looks at you softly for a second, seeing you spaced out the window. Her hand goes up to turn on the radio, finding a channel that holds good music. She focuses back on the road once she's gotten it.

The songs were calm. Perhaps even encapturing the entire feeling of today. Trees passed by. Streetlights passed by. The lights are on already, and the moon's showing up. Birds are retreating back to their houses, just as you are currently doing.

You look over to your other side, where Wanda sat, her fingers drumming, and her head nodding along the rhythm of the music. She was...so, so pretty. The car comes to a gentle stop, but you hadn't arrived just yet, only at a red light.

"I can see you staring," she says quietly with her eyes focused on the road. Her foot pushed on the pedal once more when the light turned green, and she went to make a turn.

"It's hard not to," you respond, saying only the truth. She glanced at you again, the corners of her lips raising. Buildings went by in her own window.

That is, until she goes into the driveway of your shared house. The car stops and Wanda slides her seatbelt off along with you. She turns the engine off, and the music turns into a quiet silence.

You grab the cookies and cake then open the door, getting out. She locked the car by the time the both of you had closed the doors, and she had grabbed all the items inside.

With the keys in her hands already retrieved from her pockets, she walks to the front door and inserts the key, unlocking it. You were waiting behind her on the porch, and she enters first with you at her back.

The lights in the house were flicked on by Wanda and she goes back to the front to close the door, considering your hands were full. You got your shoes off and went to place the small desserts in your hand onto the kitchen island.

When you looked behind you, the brunette was choosing a vinyl from her shelf to play, her face concentrated. She chooses one right as you went to sit on the couch, her hand carefully grabbing the disc out its sleeve to gently put on the turntable.

She plays the record and slowly drops the needle down on the vinyl, it eventually playing out a soft, mellow tune, one perfect for dancing.

When you see her walking towards you, you expected nothing more or less than an offer. You smile once she holds her hand out for you, a way to ask you to dance. You hesitate, but you gently take her hand, your body getting pulled up with your heart's answer.

She puts her hands around your waist and starts swaying gently to the music, while you settled with your head on her shoulder, your mind wandering with the thoughts of everything.

Outside, sounds of rainfall starts pattering down. The windows filled with drops of it all, but with the curtains closed you couldn't. Although the noise made it clear that it wasn't the record player, or anything else.

You looked up at Wanda, and you can see her gazing back down at you, her eyes meeting yours softly. A small smile goes on her face, the two of you ever so lost in the love you held.

She whispers softly, "I love you," and your heart did leaps in your chest. You've been together for a while, but she's never said such a sentence until this very moment. It came as a surprise.

"I love you, too." You lean back slightly to look at her more, and you can physically see the happiness that fills her face.

end of chapter 1. <3

Series Masterlist Chapter 2 ->

A/N: I am terribly sorry to say that there won't be this much happiness in the later chapters :')

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taglist <3 - join here! :]

@may-z3 @ludasgf @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @justanotherteenpoet @fxckmiup @dmenby3100 @natashasilverfox @wandsmxmff @simp-erformarvelwomen

#🥀 dawn’s collection #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff fanfiction

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lastchancestardomm · 3 months

Text

Weirdos

League Of Villains x Child!Reader

Word Count - 1.7K

Warnings: References to past child abuse. One mild swear word. Found Family League Of Villains. OC-insert. Italics.

Status - Not Beta Read

A/N: Enjoy... *vaguely gestures* ...this. I've fallen back into an obsession, and this is the only way I cope. Asami Gumi, our protagonist, had a mom who fucking killed her dad (but shh that's sensitive). I love the League so much, and I've been rooting for them since they were introduced, so I thought I might publish this after getting back into My Hero. Anyway, some kind of snippet is coming up so watch for that ig.

Just as she stepped into the base, all eyes snapped to her. Their silence was exactly what Asami expected, and she wanted nothing more than to disappear. She tried tilting the baseball cap upon her head down, so that they couldn't see her face, as she meekly placed the plastic bag on the table.

"Sorry I'm so late, here's the– the food. I'm going to go wash–"

A heavy hand came down onto her white mop of hair and she gulped, tears already welling in her eyes.

A grave voice. "What happened to your face?"

Dabi's voice lowering a whole octave is the scariest thing in the world. Asami was left defenseless, silently begging him not to hit her. Because if he hit her, she will cry.

She hiccuped. "N-nothing..."

"That's also not the jacket you left with earlier! Don't you lie to us." Twice adds from across the room. She's not a liar; why would she lie?

Asami hadn't been staying here for too long, and she didn't believe they cared about her other than when she would go get their food.

"Asami," Kurogiri crosses his arms over his chest with a stern look. "Take the jacket and the hat off. Now."

She can't refuse them when they're all piercing her with their murderous gazes like that. They've been nice enough to keep her here, but they're still villains. Still bad people. She couldn't say they didn't scare her in the slightest. Asami was deathly afraid of what they might do when they see what happened to her.

She slowly, and quite carefully, removed the jacket first. Please don't hit me. The action revealed a few scabbed-over cuts and some bruises on her arms, and the small, circular burn scars on the top of her hands. Those were old. Those weren't important.

When met with silence, she took off the cap too; scrunching her eyes shut and preparing for the worst. More tears came to her eyes yet didn't fall.

"What. Happened?"

Asami flinched at Dabi's harsh question. She avoided his eyes, hands fidgeting idly. No! Don't hit me!

"Answer me, kid."

She picked at a scratch on her palm. "I– I got caught in a– in an attack with Heroes. I got a bit–"

"A bit what!?" Twice slams his hand down on the table as Asa jolts. "Your face has a giant sore! What had hit you?"

"Or who?" Dabi questions, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Asami backs away, defensive about the whole situation. You're gonna hit me, aren't you? "It– it wasn't on purpose! Something... uh– hit the ground and went flying at me–"

"You could've gotten hurt worse than that!" Dabi booms at her, stepping closer. "Why didn't you block it in time? Or at least get out of the way?"

She felt herself getting smaller and smaller by the second. Don't yell. It's bad. "I was running, and I heard someone screaming behind me and I wasn't– wasn't paying attention."

"Aw, Dabi, you don't have to be so harsh," Toga prances up behind Asami, and gingerly wraps her arms around Asa's quivering shoulders. "You're being scary again, tone it down a notch." Yeah. Scary.

"Yeah, stupid. You're going to OP on the yelling. No one wants to hear your mouth," Shigaraki pipes up, seemingly unbothered by the whole ordeal and instead choosing to focus all his attention on his handheld console.

Dabi whirls to face him. "What'd you say, Vaseline? How about you say that with your chest?"

Shigaraki stands up angrily, yet minding the console he held, "I wonder what burnt chicken ashes tastes like–"

Shut up! I said you're scary when you yell! Shut up!–

"Enough, you two!" Kurogiri booms out, "There are more important matters than your pointless bickering."

"Yeah! Our poor birdy Asa got hurt," Toga coos, rubbing over the purple-pink mark on Asami's face. She winces when Toga's fingers brush over the sore spot, yet Asami can't bring herself to push her away. She's too afraid of what the consequences might be. "Daww... that's gonna leave a huge bruise for weeks." As if it wasn't already bruising.

"I'm gonna destroy whichever Hero who caused it," Dabi turns back to her. "Who was it? Was it Endeavor? Best Jeanist? Mirko? One of them U.A kids??"

"I– I don't know. I didn't see them clearly," she squeaks. He's really going to kill her now.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DIDN'T SEE THEM?!" Blue embers spark from his palms.

NO! DON'T HIT ME! PLEASE!

Asami recoils, scarred hands flying up to protect her face. Although, she stumbled back onto Toga, who catches her with a tiny hum of empathy. For a second, it seemed Dabi's rigid expression softened.

"Hey, hey, take it down a few notches," Twice wraps an arm around Dabi's shoulder. "No need to be so abrasive."

"I'm s-sorry I got hurt, I– I'll try to be more careful next time," All the tears that had built up behind her eyes dribbled down her face. She's mortified. She doesn't want to know what happens if they see her crying.

"Aw, look what you did," Twice exasperatedly motions towards Asami's bowed head. "This is what happens when you're such a tsundere– hiding your feelings all the time."

"Come here, Asami," Kurogiri motions to the empty barstool next to Shigaraki. "Let me take care of your wounds."

"But," she blinks back to clear her vision, "I deserved it, didn't I?" Shouldn't I be in trouble? Why didn't you hit me yet?

"Oh shut up, stop being an emo," Toga pushes Asa towards the chair.

She ends up seated at the bar, finally realizing that her ears and non-injured parts of her face were hot with embarrassment. She continues constricting herself inwards, uncomfortable with her surroundings. Not to mention how perplexed she is.

Shigaraki spares Asami a sideways glance, before mashing his buttons nonchalantly. "That's one hell of a bruise, you're gonna look worse than me for a while."

She can't tell from his tone if he's insulting her, trying to make a joke, or failing miserably at an action of comfort. But someone's tone usually always flew over her head.

Kurogiri places a first aid kit on the counter. "I'll do your face first," he pulls out a few cotton swabs and some kind of disinfectant solution. "It may burn," he gently warns.

Twice leans his arm on the other side of her, "What's with that face, Asami? You look worried."

She paused for a moment, looking down at her feet. You guys are going to hit me. But you haven't yet. I'm scared you'll hit me when I'm not looking and make me cry.

"I'm waiting for you guys to do something to me."

The entire room freezes, sent into stunned silence. The air gets tense, sending her into another heart-racing mini panic. You're gonna hit me now! Don't hit me! I'm sorry!

Twice is the first to interrupt the silence. Even the soft hand he places on Asa's shoulder causes her to jump. "I don't know how things were before you met us, or if that's the kind of impression we give," he shoots a look at Dabi, who simply crosses his arms and looks away, "But that's not how we do things. It was an honest mistake. How could you have known that would happen? We're just worried about something bad happening to you."

So you won't hit me? I don't trust that. People always hit me.

She hesitantly looks up. "You– you guys– you won't?–" Asami starts quivering again, getting nervous. She can't believe them. Her mom told her that, too, but still hit her. She should just shut up.

"We promise. No one is allowed to hurt you under our protection." Kurogiri comforts, swirling a cotton swab in the disinfectant.

She perked up at his words. She still was a tad reticent, but spoke. "You mean, I'm not just some kid you have running around doing your chores? I- I'm not annoying?"

"You make it sounds like you're a stray cat or something," Shigaraki comments. "Though, you are usually quiet, and do require a moderate amount of attention..."

"Of course you're not just 'some kid', silly! You're one of us!" Toga's sweater-pawed hands envelop Asami's torso in a hug. "Dabi's just being a meanie because he doesn't know how to show affection. He should still really apologize though,"

"Yeah, Dabi!" Twice adds with a flourish. "Come and apologize to my poor child!" He grabs Asa's head and forcefully pushes it into his hard chest.

Dabi sighs heavily, like a child forced to apologize; rubbing the back of his neck as the two look at him expectantly. "I shouldn't've yelled at you, kid. I didn't know you'd be scared like that."

Toga quirks her brow smugly at him, and Dabi groans. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," It's weird being smothered by a group of housemates who might as well be strangers, isn't it? But somehow, it blooms some warmth into Asami's chest. Silently, a few more unshed tears fall down her face, but no one is worried. She's not worried.

"Alright, you get the first bite of grub," Twice eagerly opens up the bags of food and rips open one of the containers, pulling out some disposable chopsticks to feed Asami.

Kurogiri gently blots at her face with his first aid supplies. "Toga, stop wiggling, you're moving Asami!"

Toga's grip around Asa's waist doesn't loosen at all, in fact tightening, as her face snuggles into Asa's back. "Ey, Twice, it's no fair you get to feed Asami first, I wanna do it!"

It's at this moment when she feels like Dabi and Shigaraki are the most normal out of all of them, until they start bickering over a container of noodles and begin destroying things so Kurogiri needs to reprimand them again. Eventually, the others who were off somewhere else return and the chaos kicks up. Even so, among all the prodding, poking, squeezing, fighting, pulling, bickering, and smothering; Asami wonders if this is what family is supposed to feel like. What a real family is supposed to feel like.

A secret smile only she can see tugs at her lips. Nah, they're just a bunch of weirdos.

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rin-fukuroi · 5 months

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐬 [𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐚𝐧]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: Jing Yuan x fem!reader

Warnings: just cute fluff

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. Taemin - Pretty boy

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

Maybe the new year is already over, but it's never too late to just feel the warm and loving and caring atmosphere of the holiday

— Well, well, don't be naughty, I'm almost done! — you playfully scratch behind your big soft ear.

Mimi has been spinning around underfoot for several minutes, poking his big nose at your dangling heel in the air. No wonder, because his owner hasn't been home for several days, he misses him as much as you do. It's a pity that you can't explain to him that everything is fine, it's just that someone decided to postpone all work until the end of the year, so Mrs. Fu Xuan now doesn't let the General out of the office until there is not a single scroll left on his desk. Harsh, but Jing Yuan deserved it.

In any case, this is a good opportunity to finish the gift that you have been hiding with extreme care from your curious husband for several months. Let the General not appear at home as often as you would like, this man is as clingy as a person can imagine. Are you cooking something? He'll happily steal a couple of slices of vegetables from the chopping board and put his arm around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder until you shoo him to the table. Are you reading? It's time to take a nap on your lap — the softest and most comfortable pillow according to General Lofu Xianzhou. Going to bed? Great, he's just tired and will gladly squeeze you in his warm, almost suffocating embrace. And it's incredibly sweet, but not when there were only a few days left before the New Year so that you could finish his gift.

Leo raises his head with some puzzlement, watching you vigorously weave thick threads with knitting needles, periodically leaning back in an armchair opposite the fireplace to evaluate the preliminary result of your painstaking work. You're really bad at needlework. If someone had told you a few years ago that you would be sitting and knitting with a serious look, you would have laughed a lot at the person who voiced such a funny joke. The desire to step over yourself, learn something new, become better for another person is also part of the relationship that you got involved in as unexpectedly as you decided to make a gift with your own hands.

The firewood crackles softly in the fireplace, and the dancing flames cast a soft shadow on the carpet under your feet and a half-asleep Mimi threatening to crush your ankle when the lion settles his huge fluffy head on it. The same atmosphere, the same warmth and the same thrill as the day when Jing Yuan proposed to you so simply and casually in this very place. You've always been like this. Carefree, just enjoying each other's company. Perhaps, from the outside, your banter with each other, lightness and carelessness are seen by others as the relationship of two good friends, but isn't that the whole point? You always think that Jing Yuan is really your closest and irreplaceable friend, with a smile on your lips, inexpressibly happy that you are so lucky to have him.

Therefore, even what you are doing clumsily now, snorting irritably under your breath when the drawing slides to the side and the threads get tangled in your hands, in some way brings you pleasure. It is unlikely that Jing Yuan will wear this, as there is an extremely low probability that you will take up knitting needles again, but you pass all those warm feelings that have been lurking in your heart all these years through your fingers holding metal sticks in your hands in the hope that the General will be able to feel them on his own body.

— Oh, well, your owner will owe me when I give him this gift, — you chuckle softly, glancing at the lion, whose ear twitches as soon as it catches the sound of your voice.

A soft sigh leaves your chest as you lean back in your chair, reaching for a mug of cocoa with tiny marshmallows on the coffee table. The hot sweetness spreads in your mouth, and you calm down a little, once again looking at the sweater on your lap.

— Do you think it doesn't look too lame? — you "try on" a sweater by applying it to your chest, and you meet Mimi's sleepy gaze, snorting softly before turning away in the opposite direction from you. — Is it that bad?!

— What's wrong, dear? — the heavy weight of Jing Yuan's body abruptly falls on your shoulders, making you shudder when he suddenly sneaks up from behind, wrapping his big hands around your shoulders.

Mimi instantly takes her head off your leg and happily wags her tail, like a dog waiting for its owner. Perhaps Jing Yuan was right in calling him his pet cat.

— Aeons, you're going to give me a heart attack! — you put your hand to your chest in fright before realizing that the sweater you tied is still pressed against it, and you hurriedly crumple it up, stuffing it under your side. — Have you finished your work yet?

— Mmm, not really,— the General almost purrs, burying his nose in the curve of your neck.

— Not really?

— Aren't you glad to see me at all? It would be a shame to celebrate the New Year separately.

You roll your eyes, but gently wrap your arms around your husband's forearm, sighing in resignation.

— Okay, I'll set the table now.

You are about to get out of the warm embrace of Jing Yuan, when Mimi stops you, insistently poking his nose into your thigh, under which lies what you have been hiding from your husband for so long.

— What is it, Mimi? Did you find something? — The General's hands are leaving your shoulders, and you can almost feel cold sweat rolling down your forehead.

Jing Yuan strokes the lion's head, but he completely ignores the owner's touch, continuing to snort and try to seep between your hip and the chair.

— Y/N, are you hiding something from me? — The General squints, smiling playfully and leaning towards your face.

— N-no! I guess I just spilled some cocoa… HEY! — you scream when your husband silently crouches, grabbing your legs and throwing you over his shoulder. You squirm, frantically slapping him on the back when you feel Jing Yuan leaning into the chair. — STOP! Let me go, there's nothing interesting there!

— Really? Then why did you hide it? — The General chuckles softly, and you drop your hands in despair, noticing the sneaky lion sitting behind his master and wagging his tail contentedly. — This is…

— It's not finished yet, — you mutter unhappily, propping your chin with your fist behind your husband's back.

Jing Yuan gently holds you with one hand, with the other unfolding a soft sweater over the seat of the chair. The red threads are intertwined in neat chains, and in the center of the gift there is an embroidered lion, slightly uneven, but seemingly insanely charming to the General.

— Is that Mimi?

— Y-yes… Or what should have been him.

The man gently puts you down on the floor, and you awkwardly look away, feeling embarrassment tingle your cheeks.

— It looks ready, can I try it on?

— I told you… — you started to speak, but stopped, noticing with what trepidation Jing Yuan lifts the sweater from the chair, leaning it against his muscular chest. — Oh… All that remains is to cut the thread.

You take scissors from the table, carefully cutting the red thread, and take the sweater from Jing Yuan's hands while he hurriedly throws off his uniform, presenting himself half naked in front of you and forcing you to frantically squeeze your gift in your hand, checking whether it is too prickly to put it on a bare body.

— Y/N, — Jing Yuan smiles, holding out his hands.

— Okay, okay… — you sigh, finally giving the sweater back.

Your husband carefully pulls on his sweater, smoothing out the bound image of Mimi on his chest. He looks so happy when he looks at the thing that is bound with your own hands, and he can almost feel how your love, care and efforts are woven into these soft threads to see a smile on his face.

— Why only Mimi?" Where is my beloved wife? — The General grins, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to his warm body.

— A sweater with me wouldn't be so cute, — you giggle, burrowing into Jing Yuan's chest. So softly.

— Who told you that? — your husband's fingertips are placed under your chin, forcing you to look at him. — You are the sweetest woman in the world.

The man's amber eyes sparkle in the soft light of the fireplace, and you can't help but smile, rising on tiptoe to leave a short kiss on the General's cheek.

— Flatterer, do you think this will save you from being punished for ruining the whole surprise?

— I hope so, — The General rubs the tip of his nose against yours, loosely closing his eyes and pressing you closer to his body. — Thank you, my love.

P.S. Mimi's credibility was undermined after this incident!

#headcanons #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai:star rail #honkai:star rail x reader #hsr drabbles #jing yuan #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan fluff #fluff #happy new year

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myg-butterfly · 1 year

Text

How Many Things

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Yoongi invites you out to a party with him, and in trust, you say yes. But what happens when you lose him in the crowd, just to find him again with someone else by his side? In the midst of panic and longing, you wonder how many things he thinks about before he gets to you.

Tags: Non-Idol AU, Anti-Social Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst/Fluff

Warnings: Anxiety, descriptions of panic attacks, Yoongi is an asshole for a minute, some of his friends are big time assholes, insecurities, social anxiety, lots of feelings, Teahyung and Namjoon are sweethearts, crying, jealousy, author's first fic lol.

A/N: HEY HELLO HI!!! This is my first fic that I'm publishing here so pls be gentle 🙏 And if you enjoy, leave feedback, good or bad, I love interactions. This is self-indulgent comfort that I've been thinking about for a long while and I was like ,,,,,, Yoongi got me 🥰🙏 Also this was slightly inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's "how many things" from her album EICS go listen if you want the extra angst. So yeah, enjoy!

main masterlist

You began to panic, the music was so, so loud, the clattering of dishes and glasses from the bar, the yelling, all the bodies and their humidity, it was all becoming too much, and to your dismay, Yoongi was nowhere to be seen.

You tried to recollect yourself as you began pushing through the crowd, determined on finding him. With every slip past a person, every step and stumble, you grew even more exhausted, but then finally, Yoongi came into view.

He was to the other end of the bar, a smile plastered in all his glory. Whoever he was talking to was clearly making him laugh, and just the sight of him made the tension in your shoulders ease a little bit. You were just about to call out to him, maybe even when fling yourself in his arms, but then-

Then you saw her. The one responsible for the way his face was currently scrunched with a happy grin. They stood close to each other, even as they turned the other way and moved to take a seat together at the bar. They were hand in hand, they looked like the human embodiment of perfection.

You felt your heart deflate as Yoongi pulled out a chair for her, proceeding to signal something to the bartender, the peace sign on his fingers and the pointing between him and her gave you the idea he asked for a drink for both of them. They continued to laugh and talk, and you had to force yourself to look away.

The sight of them made you remember why you hated going out, but even worse, you remembered why you vowed to not get romantically attached to anyone, especially not Yoongi.

The turning of your stomach was becoming hard to ignore, your quick breaths making matters worse. You knew you had to get out of there; with or without Yoongi. So with one last glance at him -who was still engrossed deeply in conversation with the woman next to him, leaning to whisper something in her ear and her reacting in a flustered manner- you fought your way to the door, tears beginning to spill the moment the night breeze greeted you.

As much as you wanted to just run and run and run until your body gave out on you, you knew better than to try and make it back to the dorms by foot.

You sighed defeatedly and pulled out your phone, texting the one person who you knew would be here without fail. As much as you didn't like bothering him (even though he's told you countless times you're not) you knew he'd scold you if you walked home on your own, and a scolding from him was never an enjoyable experience.

Y/N: are you busy rn?

Namjoon: Not currently. Why?

Y/N: can u pls come pick me up

Namjoon: Where are you? Are you safe?

Y/N: yeah, here's my location *📍*

Namjoon: I'll be there in less than 10. Stay put, okay?

Y/N: ok. ty joon.

Putting your phone away, you sat at the nearest bench you found, and attempted to stop the tears from falling further before Namjoon arrived.

But no matter how hard you tried, it was pretty much impossible to not think about why you were out here in the first place. Were you overreacting? Yoongi's allowed to have friends. So why are you so hurt? It's not even like you're together or anything.

In all honesty, you wanted to be mad at them.

You wanted to be mad at him for giving you even the slightest hope that there might be something more between you two.

You wanted to be mad at that girl he was with for being so damn perfect for him, for being everything that you could never begin to come close to.

But deep down you didn't have it in you to be angry at anyone but yourself.

How could you have been so stupid?

You knew that no one would want you romantically, you knew that all he felt for you was pity, that you'd never come first, and yet you still got your hopes up.

You let yourself dream that he wanted you like you wanted him. You believed all those things he said out of pity, all the reassurances and compliments, you knew that they were nothing but him simply being who he is; a naturally kind person.

You knew all of this, so why the hell were you crying? Why were you walking out and aimlessly trying to find anywhere else to go?

'Pathetic' you scoffed at yourself. You were being immature, everything everyone else had said about you was true. You were stupid to think otherwise.

Before you could continue to wallow in your self-pity, you felt a small tap to your shoulder, and you looked up to find Namjoon looking down at you.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" You quickly wiped away your remaining tears and nodded your head, standing up to greet him. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Thank you for coming Namjoon." You bowed slightly, trying your best to look well put together. "It's no problem dear. My car's this way, come on."

"You want me to drive you back to your apartment?" You both got in his car and he asked as you put on your seatbelts. "Yes, please. Thank you." He only hummed in response as he began to drive, a soft tune playing on the radio, just loud enough to make it less awkward.

Namjoon knew you probably weren't in the mood to talk, and you were grateful for the silent understanding you guys shared. You weren't awfully close, but you'd shared your own personal memories with each other, and you mutually knew the other would be willing to lend a hand when needed. That's what you liked about him. He was just understanding like that.

The drive to your apartment was short, and even though you lived on the 3rd floor, Namjoon insisted on walking you to your door.

"Hey, take care okay? If you need anything else don't hesitate to call me, yeah?" He said as you reached your door, the genuine look on his face made you tear up once more.

"Yeah. Thank you, Joon." You waved him off as you stepped into your apartment, closing the door as he began to turn around.

You immediately kicked off your heels and went to grab a glass of water. You chugged it down as if you hadn't had a drop of water in days, proceeding to open your fridge and let the waterworks begin as you realized your appetite was gone just seeing the carton of orange juice sitting there with a sticky note that reads, "YOONGI'S!!! DO NOT DRINK >:("

He'd helped you with your groceries about 2 weeks ago, and the orange juice he bought was claimed by him, protesting that he needed "emergency juice" because he was at your apartment so often.

Not wanting to look at his skrunkly handwriting anymore, you shut the fridge door and rested your head in your hands on the kitchen counter.

The more you thought about it, the more prominent the ache in your chest became. He was the one who invited you to that party in the first place. He was the one who wanted you to have fun. He was the one that promised he wouldn't leave your side. Yet here you were, back at the dorms, hugging yourself in attempts to conceal your heartbreak.

If you had gone on your own and just happened to see him there with another girl, then that would have been a different story.

But no.

Yoongi himself told you two nights ago that he was invited to a party, and he wanted you to accompany him as his plus one. And as nervous and hesitant as you were, he spurred you on, encouraging; "No matter what you wear you'll look stunning." And "Everyone will love you" and "I won't leave your side, okay?"

That one stung the most when you thought about it, because not even 15 minutes into the party, Yoongi was nowhere to be seen. You could tell that most of his friends weren't too fond of you, and you felt ridiculous in the pink dress you wore.

You thought of how you'd taken hours to be able to look at yourself in the mirror and not cry at your appearance made you cringe. You tried so hard to look nice, to feel pretty, to feel wanted, and it still didn't work.

You grew angrier, why weren't you good enough? What made it so hard to love you? You practically ripped off your dress, the fabric suddenly piercing your skin, your arms wiping off your already smearing makeup furiously, and you stomped to your bed, plopping down violently before letting out a strangled groan that sounded more like a whimper.

You felt like shit. Your whole night was shit.

Were you overreacting? You had been rude too. I mean, you left without even telling him. You're just as bad, right?

He's the one who left you standing there, Y/N. Your brain going back and forth until you decided that falling asleep would be easier.

"Sooo how'd it go with lover boy last night? Assuming things went well from what I saw." An overly excited Taehyung appeared at your side, a smug grin on his face as he poked your arms. You just shrugged your shoulders as a response, the mere mention of the previous night was enough to deflate your already souring mood.

"Don't give me that look, Y/N! I know you and Yoongi got it on last night!" Taehyung flailed his arms accusingly, as if waddling around would make his statements true. "We didn't get it on, Taehyung. Literally nothing happened. Nothing." You tried to remain calm as you spoke, but your patience was running thin.

"Oh come on Y/N. Yoongi was absolutely plastered this morning and you're gonna try to tell me nothing happened?" He kept on going as he shook your shoulders, and it took everything in you to not slap his hands away.

"Did he get home safe last night?" Your brows furrowed in slight worry at the mention of Yoongi being wasted, and no matter how hurt you were, you had to know if he was okay.

"Uh, yeah. Were you drunk too? I thought you guys left together. Do you not remember?" The lump in your throat was becoming harder to swallow down as Taehyung spoke. You had to be strong. You were not gonna cry over this to your poor friend who's excited.

"You know I don't drink. And, no we didn't leave together. I asked Namjoon to take me home." You hoped he'd stop asking questions, but much to your dismay- "You left with Namjoon?!?! Does Yoongi know?!?!? Did anything happen with him!?" At this point you were on the brink of tears, you hated talking about this.

"Taehyung, please let it go. I just wanted to know if Yoongi got home safely. Can we please just drop it?" Taehyung caught onto your pleading tone and the hurt look in your eyes, and he nodded with his softened expression.

"Sorry Y/N, I didn't mean to pry." He spoke cautiously. "It's okay Tae."

He shot you another worried look before returning to walking in silence beside you once again.

The rest of the day went painfully slow, your mind too exhausted to deal with walking from one side of campus to the other, and much less to pay attention to what your professors were saying.

Expectedly, you collapsed onto your bed the moment you went back to your dorm. You were gladly going to continue feeling sorry for yourself, but the ringing of your doorbell rudely interrupted you.

You groaned, hoping they'd just go away, but after a few seconds another ring came. You [grumpily] got up, running your hands through your hair in attempt to look somewhat presentable.

As you made your way to the door, you wondered who could be at your apartment, especially now that it was beginning to get late, the sun going down quickly outside.

You hesitantly opened the door, immediately wishing you would've just continued to ignore whoever was at the door once you saw who was standing in front of you.

"Hi, I brought dinner." There Yoongi stood with a soft smile on his face, lifting a brown bag in reference to dinner.

You stood stunned, wanting to say something, but your mind went blank.

"Y/N? You there?" He playfully waved his hands around trying to get your attention.

"Oh, uhm, yeah. Sorry. Just didn't expect you to come by."

"Oh, sorry if I startled you. I texted you but you didn't respond, and you didn't answer last night when I called, so I wanted to come check if you were okay." He shuffled from foot to foot, worry evident in his eyes.

"Oh, just haven't been on my phone lately." You looked down, feeling unsure on how to talk to him without showing him your hurt.

"Oh alright. So, we heading in for dinner?" The smile returned to Yoongi's face, and no matter how hurt you were, you still found it hard to say no to him.

"Oh, yeah, sure. Of course."

You opened the door a little further and stepped aside to let him in.

On a normal occasion, dinner with Yoongi would've been the highlight of your day. But now, it was filled with awkward silence and poor attempts at small talk — Yoongi hates small talk as much as you, so you don't know why he's still trying — the tension in the air was hardly going unnoticed.

It wasn't until you finished eating that he decided to just rip the bandage off.

"Are you angry with me?" Yoongi asked, and you almost questioned if he was being serious or not, but the expression he held made you realize that he was in fact clueless about the hurt he put you through.

You weren't sure what to say, so you stayed silent. I mean, it's not like you were angry at him. But you also weren't too happy with him either. Yoongi felt his heart drop as your gaze dropped his own, denying him from an answer.

"Y/N? Did I do something?" He asks from across the table where he's sitting.

For some reason hearing those words from him made the tears you've been holding back so well spill over.

Did he really have no idea? Were you genuinely overreacting? Did you just make everything up in your head?

"Do you really not know?" You tried to push your voice out firmly, but it came out in a broken whisper. You wanted to look at Yoongi, you wanted to see if his face washed over with realization, but your eyes stayed glued to the floor.

"Is this about me getting drunk at that party? I thought you said you didn't mind if I had alcohol." His wording sounded harsher than he intended, but with your already weakened state, you had to hold back from full on sobbing right there in front of him.

"This is about you leaving me by myself in the middle of the party when you promised you wouldn't leave my side!" Your frustration began to take over, did he really not see it? He's supposed to know you better than anyone else.

"Leaving you by yourself? Last thing I heard, you had found yourself a new companion for the night." Yoongi scoffed, his mood souring when he recalls finding out that apparently you'd left with some other guy.

The drinks he'd had were enough to make the night slightly blurry and to make him work a little harder to recall the night's events, but unfortunately, they weren't enough to make him forget how someone had stole you away from him.

"Where did you hear that?" You asked, trying to mask the hurt you were currently feeling.

"My friends" He responded, as if that was supposed to change what you had said.

"Your friends ... the ones you introduced me to?"

"Yeah"

"Your friends really don't seem to like me." You muttered, but Yoongi somehow caught the soft mumbling.

"What do you mean? To me it looked like they were all happy to meet you." His tone remained cold, and you felt more tears forming quickly.

"Well, you weren't there with me when they all laughed at me because I'd lost you in the crowd." You tried to defend yourself.

"They're not like that, I know they aren't."

"You wouldn't know how they acted towards me because you left me alone." You continued on, his face morphing into one resembling more of guilt.

"He left you already? Didn't even last half an hour."

"They haven't even had 1 drink tonight, no wonder Yoongi ran away so fast. Prude."

You winced while recalling how they'd laughed at you when you tried asking for Yoongi, passing it off as a joke when you'd gotten visibly upset.

You softened your tone, sadness catching up with you and replacing your frustration.

"It hurt, Yoongi. You know me better than anyone. You're supposed to know me better than anyone. You know how much I hate parties and bars, how I hate talking to people I don't know, how I don't do things alone. Ever. And you know that if I made you promise to not leave my side it's because I'm not ever planning to leave yours either. Do you know how bad it hurt to be panicking only to turn around and see you having the time of your life? Especially with someone else, when you promised me that night was for you and I only? It hurt, so damn bad."

Yoongi's heart dropped at your words, had it really been that bad for you? How did he not notice?

"I didn't leave with anyone yesterday, Namjoon brought me back to my apartment and left the moment I walked inside that door. You're the one that left with someone else last night, and it wasn't me."

A thick moment of silence engulfs you, and you begin to wait for a snap, or some sort of outburst from Yoongi, but all that comes is—

"Y/N... I- Shit. That's not-" You looked up hesitantly at the sound of Yoongi fumbling his words. He ran a hand through his hair in disbelief before slowly moving closer and crouching down in front of you. "I'm so sorry Y/N. I swear didn't mean to leave you. I went to go get the drinks, I did. And then when I couldn't find you I went and asked my friends if they had seen you, and they said that you'd gone off dancing with some guy, and so I went to go look for you and I ran into a classmate, which is the girl you saw me with. And I thought, since Y/N's off with someone else, it wouldn't hurt to have a drink with a girl from my class. I wouldn't have left you if I knew that you were by yourself. I'm so sorry."

Yoongi's gaze dropped to the floor as he finished, ashamed for being the root of your tears.

"I should've known better, I- I was just so opposed to seeing you happy with someone else that I immediately rejected the idea of looking for you to avoid the possibility of someone else making your night special. And I know that's not really a valid excuse, not looking for you because I was jealous- of something that wasn't even fucking happening- it isn't fair to you whatsoever. I'm so sorry, Y/N. I truly am." He takes your hands in his and takes a moment to recollect his next words.

"What can I do to make it up to you? Even if it's just the smallest fraction, I want to show you how sorry I am. Anything you want. Please." You paused for a moment, even though your conscience immediately knew what you wanted.

Hold me. Please. Hold me. Nudge your head with mine, lock our pinkies, put your leg against mine, anything. Please, hold me.

With your brain screaming mantras of 'I need to be held', you reached out for him for a second, before your body jerked to a stop.

No. I need him to hold me. I need him to reach out. He needs to initiate- please-

Yoongi's quick to notice your body language, and equally quick to react. "Do you want to be held, sweetheart?" You swear you felt yourself physically start to glow at the sound of him uttering the words you've been dying to hear for god knows how long.

You nod your head and you're so delighted by the aspect of someone- well, not just someone, but Yoongi- comforting you, that you don't even notice the soft whimper that leaves you as he scoots closer to you.

"Words, darling." He says softly, and your body automatically responds with soft chants of "Yes, please, yes Yoongi."

You don't even notice how tears begin to fall against your cheeks again when you feel Yoongi's hands wiping them away.

"C'mere, I've got you baby. Let's go to bed, yeah?" He grabs your legs and wraps them around his torso, before he holds you against him tightly and begins to stand up with you in his arms.

You feel yourself melting at the pet names he's giving you, glad that he's carrying you because you're sure your legs would've given out on you at this point.

You continue turning to mush when you feel how gently Yoongi sets you down once you reach your bed, how he squeezes your hand and asks for permission to lay with you with his eyes, how he reaches for you under the covers and cradles you close, fingers running through your hair softly.

The bliss is only momentarily, broken when your mouth moves faster than your brain;

"Yoongi?"

"Hm?"

"Why did it upset you when you thought I was at the club with someone else?" Your question comes out as a whisper, scared for his response.

"Y/N." He pulls back a little to see your face.

"Yoongi." You reply mocking his tone.

"Are you really gonna make me spell it out for you?" He's secretly glad that it's dark in your room, otherwise you'd be able to see the blush coating his cheeks.

"What are you talking about?" You ask, and his only response is a huff while pulling your head back into his chest.

"Yoooongiiii" Your whine comes out muffled by his shirt.

"Y/nnnnnn" It's now Yoongi's turn to mock your tone.

"Answer the questionnnn"

You feel the vibrations of his chest as he mumbles something into your hair, and you would've lost it on the spot if you weren't so focused on getting an answer out of him.

"Yoongi I can't understand you when you're mumbling like a child." You chuckle slightly, not wanting to dwell on how you can feel his heart beating rapidly against you before he mumbles once again, only this time louder.

"I don't understand you for shit." At this, Yoongi lets go of you and sits up with a sigh, looking at you for a second before securing his gaze on his hands. You follow suit and sit up as well, only slightly behind him.

"I like you. I've liked you. For a really long while." His voice is so soft and it sounds so timid, you almost think you're imagining it.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Wait- that's not a good way to respond to that. Uhhh- wait." You quickly shift so you're facing him fully.

"Do you mean like as in 'you're a homie' or like as in 'you're not just the homie you're THE homie'? Because before I say anything you would have to clari-"

"Do you think I do this with all my friends?" He cuts off your nervous ramble, grabbing both of your shaky hands with his equally shaken ones.

"What specifically?"

"All of it."

"Wha-"

"The sharing food? The holding hands and carrying you and bringing dinner over and inviting them everywhere with me? The cuddling and the 'baby' and 'doll'? You know how I am about my personal space, and you know how I am about my sleep, and you know how I am about affection. Do you think I do that with just anyone?"

"Well- I don't know, I mean- I don't know what your other friendsh-"

"I don't. You're the only one that gets to see me like this. You're the only one I treat like this. You're the only one I want to treat like this. I like you. And I want to be with you. And that's why I was upset. Because when I thought you were with someone else, it made me feel as if you didn't want the same thing as me."

Before you got the chance to even begin to process, Yoongi catches himself and feels the need to justify: "Obviously if you don't feel the same then I won't like, lash out at you or anything, it'll hurt but I don't want you to feel forced into something more with me than what we have now, it's just you asked me why I was upset and that was the only way I could explain it but I-"

"Yoongi." He's stopped by a soft tug to his shirt and the even softer sound of your voice.

You catch each other's eyes, the flickers of hope and longing between them, and the search of honesty.

"I feel the same."

A sigh leaves his lips and he breaks into a smile before picking you up in one motion and setting you on his lap so you're straddling him.

"Does this mean we're like, um- like,,,,"

"Like...?" His tone is teasing, and you know he knows what you mean.

"Like, y'know- like..."

"I actually don't know...."

"Yoongi." You huff out, your shyness getting the best of you.

"Yes?" His tone is smug, making you groan into his chest.

Working off of pure adrenaline, you mumble quietly: "Like, together."

"What was that doll?" You could practically hear the smirk on his face, making you try and shuffle away from him, but Yoongi's quicker, pulling you back into him with a giggle.

"If you're asking if we're officially dating, then don't even question it baby." He's still laughing, but his tone is firmer this time.

"So I'm taking that as a yes?"

"Fuck yes."

You burst out laughing at his response, and soon enough you've both fallen into a fit of giggles, as well as back into the bed, with you on top of Yoongi, before he flips you over so he's hovering over you.

"Y/N."

"Yoongi?"

"Can I kiss you?"

End.

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