#and now I’ve identified it and can remove it and move on with my life

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[sexydreamgirl]

Hi! I just wanted to share this somewhere so I feel I have the obligation to complete it.

I’ve been apart of the LOA community for some time now, and I’ve had struggles manifesting (not persisting, over consuming info, etc.) and often I would feel upset whenever my desires didn’t appear when I felt I’ve been putting my all into them. I took a break for LOA for a while now because of that reason, but I feel that I am ready to come back because I have been scripting my dream life that I want to live for over a year now and I know that I can live it if I really try.

I mainly moved away from this community because I would just search and search for information and not apply it or put it off, but I’m ready to stop that. The manifesting guide that you posted is going to be my only source of information and soon I’ll remove myself from LOA tumblr and truly persist in my desires.

I know that I have to tackle my self concept, and that will be the first thing that I will do. Sometimes I feel nervous knowing that I am going to live this life behind but honestly I’m going to embrace the thrill. I know my dream life is waiting for me on the other side and I have to get to it.

Are there any tips that you can share before I start my journey?

I think I'd like to clarify very quickly that self concept isn't something you "work on". Self concept is another term for your current state of consciousness, so it's not really something you tackle first so much as it is something you change period. That said...

If there's anything I'd want to leave you with before you initiate your deliberate shift in consciousness it would be the following reminders:

There is no one and nothing to change but self. If you want to change something on the outside you must first make changes on the inside, there is no other way around it. Leave the world alone and change your conception of self. To fight against what 3D is showing you is to fight your own shadow since the world is simply yourself pushed out.

Consciousness is the only reality means that you will only ever experience whatever it is that you are conscious of (being). You will never be able to bear witness to something you did not become conscious of.

There is a difference between thinking of and thinking from. Thinking from is done through declaration of I AM. Thinking of is confined to "I would like to be" or "I will be", both of these are confessions that you are not that which you desire to be. You cannot believe yourself to be rich while also believing that you are poor. You either are it or you are not. You cannot serve two masters.

You can repeat affirmations, script chapters, visualize day in and day out but if you are not identifying and feeling yourself to be one with your imaginal acts, you are performing in vain.

You cannot fail. If you remain faithful to your ideal and you feel yourself to be it, no power on earth will impede its fruition. This is the unbreakable law of life. Failure can only be the end result if you allow it to be the end result.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Helen Joyce

Published: April 2023

Being invited to talk at a conference for psychoanalysts in London last month was not, on the face of it, a surprise. The topic was trans identification in children; I’ve written a book on this and other trans-related issues. What was surprising, given the transactivist tactic of demanding “no debate”, was that the event went ahead as planned.

My refusal to agree that men who identify as women thereby become women means that when I’m invited to speak, there’s usually trouble. Last March I was asked to present at a conference for NHS psychiatrists — and disinvited after a smear campaign. The conference was eventually cancelled. When philosopher Arif Ahmed asked me to speak at Gonville and Caius College Cambridge in October, the college master emailed fellows and students describing me as “offensive, insulting and hateful”. I managed to give my talk, but had to shout to be heard over protestors outside.

The psychoanalysts’ event wasn’t entirely free of drama. During the morning, I and other critics of trans ideology described its spread through the medical profession, and the harm this is doing to gender-distressed children. As the session closed, a young man stood and denounced us as hatemongers, his voice and body trembling as he spoke. He compared us to the psychotherapists who, half a century ago, peddled “conversion therapy” — electrical shocks and nausea-inducing drugs aimed at turning gay people straight. 

I’ve heard opposition to “gender-affirming” care analogised to conversion therapy many times, and it’s absurd. This is the treatment pathway involving giving puberty-blockers and cross-sex hormones to gender-distressed children, often as a precursor to surgery that will leave them sterile and lacking in sexual function. Most children sent down this path would have grown up gay if left to do so in peace; when they identify as the opposite sex, they become nominally straight. It’s the gender ideologues, in other words, who are the modern-day conversion therapists.

I’m hopeful that the event for psychotherapists going ahead with a critic inside the room is a sign that “no debate” is no longer an effective tactic. The would-be censors haven’t given up, however, only changed tactics. Instead of trying to silence us, they’re starting to argue. The way they do it says a lot about their worldview, in which subjectivity trumps objectivity, emotion trumps reason and words trump material reality.

At the heart of trans activism is a power play which seeks to impose trans-identified people’s inner feelings on the external world. Other people are expected to ignore the material fact of sexed bodies and “affirm” stated identities by the use of “preferred pronouns”.

Pronouns are not the only words now regarded as powerful enough to change reality. Take the rewriting of literary classics to remove racial slurs, often imaginary, and workplace training that purports to root out “implicit bias”. Both are based on the notion that words, rather than describing the world, shape it so profoundly that censorship can be a route to social justice. What makes a word worthy of being erased is entirely subjective: that someone claims to find it harmful, no matter how tenuous or outlandish that claim.

Laws, too, are moving away from objective tests. Hate crimes, which attract longer sentences, are those which the victim “perceives” to have been motivated by prejudice, whether or not that perception is reasonable. Scotland’s Hate Crime Act, not yet in force, will criminalise speech that merely “might” make a minority group feel “vulnerable” or “excluded”. As for “non-crime hate incidents”, as the Orwellian name suggests, these involve no crime and rely purely on perception. The Home Secretary, Suella Braverman, has said that the police must stop routinely recording such incidents. They’ve already been told this by the High Court,  yet the practice continues. 

One reason for this elevation of subjective feelings over objective facts is a trend towards celebrating victimhood. Most early societies were what sociologists call “honour cultures”, in which might was right and maintaining status after an insult or injury meant exacting swift revenge. The rule of law saw honour cultures give way to “dignity cultures”, in which status is formalised in job titles and academic qualifications, self-control is admired and justice is dispensed by police and courts.

In their 2018 book The Rise of Victimhood Culture, sociologists Bradley Campbell and Jason Manning describe how honour and dignity cultures are giving way to a moral code which elevates the oppressed. Call-outs and cancellations, they explain, are status-raising tactics, in which people claim to have been harmed by problematic views and to have suffered micro-aggressions in order to don the mantle of victimhood.

The spread of victimhood culture has helped popularise novel gender identities (non-binary, agender) and sexual orientations (aroace, pansexual) since they allow people to claim membership of oppressed groups without experiencing any actual hardship. It is also driving the self-diagnosis of mental illnesses, from quotidian conditions such as anxiety and depression, to boutique ones such as multiple-personality disorder or a novel form of Tourette’s transmitted by TikTok. 

More generally, this is a culture that encourages young people to regard themselves as traumatised. According to Jonathan Haidt, co-author of The Coddling of the American Mind, US schools and universities have started to promote three pernicious falsehoods: that what doesn’t kill you makes you weaker; that feelings are a good guide to reality and action; and that life is a battle between good people and evil ones.

These dysfunctional beliefs, which Haidt dubs “anti-cognitive behavioural therapy”, promote mental fragility. They encourage people to feel fearful of ordinary words and to regard censorship as virtuous. The logic goes like this: being dis-agreed with makes you a victim; victims are good; people saying things you disagree with therefore deserve to be silenced and punished. This is the culture of “crybullying”: using claims of victimhood to harass others.

Haidt thinks social media, with its polarising and conflict-inducing algorithms, is largely to blame. Another culprit is the “post-modern turn” that was underway before the internet era, in which academics, activists and political theorists stopped thinking of reality as something that could be described objectively and studied empirically, embracing a radical subjectivity instead. 

To these, I would add smaller families and later childbearing. A record half of all women now reach 30 without having given birth. Until the past couple of decades, most childhoods involved playing without adults around, if not with siblings then with neighbours’ children whom you were expected to look out for. 

A growing share of young adults have missed out on these formative experiences. One consequence is that they are painfully ignorant of the ways in which children are different from adults. This is part of the reason so many young people give credence to gender-distressed children’s claims to “really be” members of the opposite sex. 

My younger son identified as a train for most of his waking hours between age two and age four. I put it down to a vivid imagination, read and watched Thomas the Tank Engine on repeat, and waited for him to move on. 

These kidults have also been denied the experiences that would enable them to outgrow the vices of teenagers, namely emotional incontinence and a crippling concern for the regard of peers. Looking after children teaches you to enforce boundaries and prioritise long-term interests over short-term desires. You learn how to say no when that makes you unpopular, to exercise self-control while others are losing it. The worst thing you can do when a child screams at you is to scream back. 

To me, that young man who accused me of supporting conversion therapy appeared never to have learned these lessons. His professed concern for gender-distressed children seemed performative, even narcissistic: more about making him feel good and look good to his political tribe than about what was right for those children. He was failing in the most important task of adulthood: understanding that it’s not all about you. 

[amieravenson]

Cleansing Magick

This is perhaps the most important magick that any witch can learn. When you're able to cleanse your space and your life, you're able to assert control over the energies that have access to you. Perhaps that's why cleansing is one of the first things that we're taught as baby witches. Keeping the energies that we surround ourself with clear and fresh is the first step to other types of magick. There are several ways you can start cleansing yourself and your space. Take these suggestions and run with them! - Actually clean your space. (Not gonna lie, this is one I need to work on...) The more you move old, stagnant energies out, by cleaning, organizing, and minimizing your things, the more you have room for new, positive energies. I find that whenever I clean my space thoroughly, I feel lighter and more free, and I also have exciting new energies come into my life. It can be a huge pain, but it's worth doing! - Clean your body. Treat showers and bathtimes as a purification ritual. Imagine the water rinsing away any negativity or 'gunk' that can collect and be stored in your body. Use special soaps or rub a little salt on your skin to amplify the cleansing. Use my Florida water or my smudge spray recipes and create a spray that you can use every night before you go to bed. This will help you get rid of anything that you don't want to take with you into dream time. - Clean your mind. Think about the things that bring you down. Too much screen time? Too much gossip? Too much stress? Do you have friends or family that put you in a negative headspace? How can you limit their affects on you? Make a list if necessary. Identifying the problems will help you find solutions and clear your mind. - Clean yourself spiritually. Periodically I like to do a small energetic ritual where I cut cords that I'm no longer needing. I then use my left hand to take back energy I've given to others, visualizing it coming back to me as a silver light. And then I use my right hand to project the energy I've taken from others back to them as a gold light. It helps me to keep myself to myself and not be caught up in others' issues and drama. You can also meditate on your bodies (physical and energetic) being cleansed from above by golden light pouring in through your crown chakra. Whatever floats your boat! And of course, now we need to talk about...

Herbs for Cleansing and Purification

- Hyssop- a brilliant cleansing and purification herb, and a worthy substitute for sage in your workings. - Peppermint- Great for a Winter seasonal cleanse. - Rosemary- Use in baths and cleansing teas. - Rue- Can be used by dipping a bunch into a cleansing water or tea, and sprinkling drops over your space. Also used in exorcism rites. - Sage- perhaps the best known for purification and blessings. Be careful with what you buy, and forego the white California sage (which is sacred to some Native Americans as a closed practice and is being over-harvested). Use garden sage instead (which is easy to grow yourself, and has just as much 'oomph' as white California sage). - Solomon's Seal- used in exorcism or cleansing. - Tobacco- Burn on charcoal to remove negativity. - Vervain- Used in purification incenses and baths. - Woodruff- A Spring herb, used to clear away the stagnant energy of Winter. (From Scott Cunningham's Magical Herbalism)

Stones for Cleansing and Purification

- Agate- Cleansing at physical and emotional levels. - Amethyst- Cleansing, helps over come addictions and blockages. - Ametrine- Cleanses the aura and helps remove toxins from the body. - Black Tourmaline- Absorbs negativity, especially electromagnetic smog. - Petalite- Aids in spiritual purification. - Smoky Quartz- Absorbs negativity and transmutes it to positive. - Turquoise- Dispels negative energy. - Zincite- Can stimulate a healing catharsis. (Use with caution!) (From Judy Hall's The Crystal Bible) How about you? What do you use to cleanse your home, body, mind, and spirit? Are there some things I forgot here in this list? Please let me know in the comments. Blessed be! Read the full article

[christinatenti]

EMDR Trauma Therapy Saved my Life

I felt the shock of ice cold kitchen tile against my tear-streaked cheek. I laid there sobbing and screaming, the gut wrenching birth of death, the pull on my body and in my throat to capitulate to the world that my daughter died and to seemingly physically extract part of her from me now. I rocked myself upright, dizzy and spent. I feel a dog licking my face, another lying in the corner suffering her own grief. Even the dog lost weight as quickly as I drained myself of hunger, of vomit induced by panic attacks and bad dreams of Taylor dying over and over and over for two years. Now, I choose not to think of the two years before EMDR trauma therapy. I can’t believe I made it through the worst a mother can bear.

After almost 7 years after Taylor died by suicide, I’ve regained weight and so has the dog. Two years of talk therapy within the constructs of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) didn’t make a dent in my guilt. In fact, it’s been proven to worsen PTSD. CBT just couldn’t get past the amygdala’s screaming sirens of regret and blame. The therapy allows for new neuropathways that physically curb invasive thoughts and memories. Hypnosis, Reiki, meditation, medication, riding my bike, hiking, writing; all of my coping mechanisms that brought me to healing did not surpass my stuck brain but proved vital after trauma therapy.

EMDR trauma therapy, or eye movement desensitization and reprocessing addresses PTSD, complicated grief, and trauma.  I couldn’t see that at the end of EMDR, I would not incriminate myself. EMDR allowed for my limbic system to disengage from the powerful fight or flight reactions and allow for my brain to process my guilt and end my self-destructive nosedive. It moves glucose from the limbic brain to the thinking brain, the pre-frontal cortex that is fed by the breath and glucose.

EMDR mimics REM, rapid eye movement that we experience in sleep. That process of bilateral stimulation allows the brain to shuffle through the day, the pain, the fear, to categorize memories, and to grow and repair cellular tissue which can’t happen when you’re stressed. The therapy allowed for me to remove the limiting belief that I was solely responsible for my daughter having taken her own life.

A single trauma like this one can be managed in a shorter length of time than traditional therapy. The 90 minute sessions utilize easy, non-threatening bars of light or as is my preference, tiny paddles that gently vibrate in the palms of the hand, left and right and back again to mimic rapid eye movement, creating bilateral stimulation. This back and forth is why walking in nature decreases limbic response by half! The session is precision and results-oriented to identify and address the trauma, replace the limited belief with a positive image or idea, then calm the brain and body by finding and utilizing a safe place in the mind. This technique uses the familiar guided mediation method found on any meditation app. For people who have experienced abuse, more than one event, or prolonged trauma, more sessions are required but far fewer than traditional cognitive therapy sessions, which is another reason it is recognized as one of the effective PTSD therapies for veterans. CBT heightens trauma response, aggravates PTSD to a new level, and rarely helps the core issue as discussed.

EMDR allowed for me to incorporate the myriad of healing behaviors, cognitive brain training, relaxation, and growth I needed to navigate life on new terms. Trauma therapy allowed for me to incorporate the healing processes and healthy behaviors I needed to make new life experiences. I have experienced no negative side effects, decreased depression, and those haunting bad dreams and sleepless nights have ceased. It is not a cure for grief. Grieving is a necessary process. Trauma is not. Grieving and the benefits of actively healing guide us to understand our pain in the book The Grieving Brain: The Surprising Science of How We Learn from Love and Loss by Dr. Mary Frances O’Connor.

I train my brain with the same safe place meditation I used in EMDR to experience the joys around me, to choose to laugh and to have fun and to bathe in the joys of nature in the present moment. I remind myself not to avoid the pain of missing my daughter but to steer clear of the judgment of it all. We hold ourselves responsible to ourselves and we can pay attention to the souls who are living among us and the body, mind, and spirit that we have been blessed with for this short time if we can teach ourselves to trust the power of the physical body, brain, and how it all works together in life.

[sarangidentistry]

My Path to a Perfect Smile: Finding the Best Dentist in India

When I began my quest to straighten my teeth, my primary concern was closing the gaps between my top front teeth. After researching my options, I chose Invisalign, which offered a discreet solution with a series of clear aligners. The idea of an almost invisible treatment was highly appealing, but as I progressed, I discovered several things I wish I had known before starting.

1. Identifying the Root Cause: It’s More Than Just a Gap

Initially, I believed that closing the gap between my teeth would solve all my concerns about my smile. However, my real frustration lay with my gumline—my teeth appeared small, overshadowed by excessive gum tissue. My dentist mentioned that while Invisalign might improve my bite slightly, it wouldn’t address my gumline issues. For that, a gingivectomy (removal of excess gum tissue) would be necessary.

Two years into my Invisalign treatment, while my overbite had slightly improved, my gumline remained unchanged. I was still self-conscious about my smile. It wasn't until years later that I finally underwent the gingivectomy procedure, which took just two hours and was far less expensive than my Invisalign treatment. This experience highlighted the importance of fully understanding what your treatment can and cannot achieve.

2. The Reality of Treatment Duration: Expectations vs. Reality

One of the major selling points of Invisalign is the promise of quick results, typically within 12 to 16 months. However, my experience didn’t align with this timeline. My teeth seemed to move at their own pace, prolonging the treatment much longer than anticipated.

Midway through, my orthodontist had to create a “refinement” plan—a reassessment of my progress. Even with this, my teeth weren’t perfect, and I was left with a persistent overbite. Eventually, I had to stop the treatment because I was exhausted by the seemingly endless process. In hindsight, I wish I had been better informed that initial timelines are often optimistic estimates rather than guarantees.

3. The Lifelong Commitment to Retainers

After finally completing my Invisalign treatment, I was ready to celebrate—until I learned that I’d need to wear a retainer every night, indefinitely. Teeth have a natural tendency to shift back to their original positions, especially in cases like mine. If I skip even a night or two, I can feel my front teeth beginning to move.

This nightly routine has now become a permanent part of my life. While I’ve come to accept it, I wish I had known about this lifelong commitment before starting the treatment.

4. Finding the Right Orthodontist: How Dr. Soumendra Sarangi Transformed My Experience

After my initial experience, I realized I needed a fresh start. That’s when I found Dr. Soumendra Sarangi, an expert in orthodontics at a leading dental clinic in Bhubaneswar. Unlike others, he took the time to thoroughly understand my case, pointing out the unrealistic expectations of my previous treatment and the overlooked issue of my gumline.

Dr. Sarangi developed a plan that addressed both my orthodontic needs and the aesthetic concerns that mattered to me. His approach was personalized and thoughtful—something I hadn’t experienced before. Under his care, my overbite received the attention it required, and my smile? It finally became something I could be proud of.

5. The Importance of Communication: Stay Engaged Throughout the Process

One of the most valuable lessons I learned was the necessity of staying actively involved in your treatment. During my initial Invisalign experience, I followed the plan without asking enough questions or voicing my concerns, leading to unmet expectations and frustration.

When I switched to Dr. Soumendra Sarangi, he ensured that communication was a priority. He explained each step of the process, regularly checked in with me, and made necessary adjustments. This proactive approach made all the difference in both the outcome and my overall experience.

Conclusion

My journey with orthodontic treatment taught me some important lessons. From truly understanding the issues that need addressing to finding the best orthodontic treatment in Bhubaneswar, there’s much more to consider than just straightening teeth. If you’re thinking about Invisalign or any other orthodontic option, make sure you do thorough research, ask all the right questions, and choose a specialist who truly understands your needs—someone like Dr. Soumendra Sarangi. He made a world of difference in my journey, and I’m confident he can do the same for others seeking the best dentist in India.

[gd4abditive]

Writing Initiative #7

Which piece did you present to the class today? How does it relate to the other pieces previously presented?

I presented the finished inner part of the mask. It relates to the other pieces by the black and white theme that has been present in the others, especially the white thread. The mask is mostly black with white cracks. There is also a “looks can be deceiving” sort of theme throughout, where each piece had more to them hidden away which might have not been noticed at first glance.

Describe 2–3 specific strengths your classmates found in your work and their reasons for identifying them.

At this point the mask does not have a varnish on it. I was considering adding one but based on feedback it was best to leave it without so the imperfections, especially on the clay part, could be noticed.

Unfortunately the mask broke on the way home so I had to add a varnish anyway, after fixing it, to strengthen the mask.

I was also considering adding silver paint to it and painting the cracks since they did not come out the colour I was hoping for. I was told to leave it and that it was fine on its own. I kept struggling to follow my own message of “embracing imperfection” so I think it was good I was told that.

Describe 1–2 specific ways your classmates thought you could improve this work going forward.

I only had the inner mask finished at the time and did not start the outer part yet. The main feedback was to leave the mask instead of continuing to mess with it. Move on to the next part.

Consider the remaining outcome yet to be presented in a couple of weeks; why have you put it off the longest? Describe your reasons for presenting this outcome last.

I still needed to make the outer part of the mask, finish the animation, and make the website. I’ve been putting off the outer mask because I’ve been stuck on thinking of the best way to have the mask stay on the other one. At this rate I would need to just start something and figure it out along the way. Animation in general just takes a while to do, even if it’s tracing from real-life footage. The subject especially takes a long time to do since she has more frames per second than the surrounding crowd. The website I have been putting off for last since I wanted to have everything else done first before fully diving into the layout and coding.

Finally, you have now had a chance to present each of your projects (2D, 3D, 4D, Experimental, Reflective) in process to the class. Produce an image of each one and describe how an aspect of your word is manifested in each piece.

2D - Abditive is present by having the subject and word hidden within the long-exposure crowd. As you remove the layers, the crowd thins out, revealing that subject in focus and secluded.

3D - Looks can be deceiving. All the bears look the same, soft and cuddly, but each is hiding an uncomfortable material which the viewer may not notice until they feel it. The outside hides what’s on the inside. Since each is filled with a different material, a game can be made with them by having people guess what’s inside. I also added tags that have a simple hidden message on a jumbled mess of red words. When you put the red transparent film over it, it filters out the mess and only shows the hidden message in blue.

4D - Similar to the 2D where the subject is hidden in a crowd. This time the subject is different from the crowd by being a white outline rather than a solid ghostly figure. This makes her isolated from the others but also blending in with the black background. It may be difficult to see her in the crowd. The word is also hidden by being black text on a black background, only seen when a ghostly figure walks by.

Experimental - The outer mask hides the true inner part - a mask for a mask. The outer one hides away the imperfection of the inner one and becomes the mask people see on the outside. There’s also some imperfections on the outer mask, but they are hidden away under the detailed wings and shiny elements added to cover it.

[jonathankatwhatever]

(I have been writing these in Notes and copying them over. I rarely make editorial comments, but this is a lot of specialness.)

I’m seeing a branching that reminds me of a song. That is, a way to continue living an entirely normal life. So that’s a lucky one, a branching of very different life paths, as opposed to branchings within a life path.

That actually connects, I think, to the reason I started typing. It’s 3 Oct 2023. I’d hoped to go back to bed, but I’ve been energized and when I lie down I’m taken over by thoughts of you and bluntly sexual fantasies of play with you. These switch perspectives. The pathway in which I switch perspective is highly predictable and links the male and female as roles, as constructions of a deeper shared entity. I hope to get into that in a bit, but I don’t want to lose the idea, which is that within these constructed beings, it can be very hard to identify ideals because, as noted with branchings, there is ordering within a branch and there is ordering across them. People tend to get stuck in orderings which attract them, but that they were attracted to the wrong End.

This idea has come together so quickly, I know I can’t do it justice. Starting at the far End: it’s saying to me that I’m living proof, that the proof of the larger idea is that you can read my life and see how this proof developed. Step back or forward: over the past days, I’ve been working out ++ and quadrants, having reached the original solution to find it was correct, so I can move past that to understand how that appears in tangible Space. I think that needs notation: if we call it tSpace, then we get tS, which is absolutely hilarious, isn’t it? As tSpace, that is the statement of what contains tObjects. What about iObjects: tSpace contains tObjects and their related iObjects, because those Objects are manipulated in D-structure, and that generates D3-4 and D4-3. Note I left out the // symbol on purpose because that is process and this is about existence. That is even better: now we can state existences and add or remove process.

I hit that dead solid perfect.

To finish the thought by getting back to the start of it, the idea was that there’s a Triangular and the current representational state in tSpace is an ordering that has already projected forward, but whose details are not worked out, meaning there’s a projection over a permutation space, which you can translate into group. Simple groups are gs primes in Pathway form. I believe that just tied together the monstrous moonshine idea. We previously worked out what it is up to this explanatory level. Yes, I took a gulp of tea and marveled that I’m apparently capable of tossing off conclusions - correct ones - about math we barely as a species understand, and I giggled because it’s not me. I’m acting as a conduit because I’ve learned how to connect myself to the material through you. It’s giddy and humbling, especially since it clearly says: you know a finite amount of what can be known in other finite amounts that seem vast in our experience but which are tiny when counted. What’s great about Shakespeare is he could see into this level. Our little lives are rounded by sleep combines with who knows what dreams may come to make a picture that you come out of those intangible threads and you disappear into them. The immortal Bard indeed.

Still haven’t made it back to Start, and fundamental level material is spilling out. I have a bug bite exactly where I lay my wrist to type. Very irritating.

As human constructs, we see orderings before us, meaning inference exceeds tangible process, which makes sense because, ta da, tangible Objects contain gs process so inference moves through them more slowly. That brings the IL into this. It’s like saying information has to pass through a structure, which has reactions and reaction times, and that is generally equivalent to different indices of transparency or reflection, etc. The gruesome sight of a person hit by a cannonball came to mind: information passed through very fast and with high amplitude in lots of directions so the response is close to instantaneous destruction of the person. Like bye.

I was walking 2 days ago and realized my attraction to the song Don’t Fear the Reaper, which I rewrite of course, is the Triangular in it: love of 2 makes 1. And another Triangular of the person, her inner self and those beyond to whom she belongs. And other Triangulars, because you can form a bunch o triangles given some points. I forget how many you can generate by point count. That kind of calculation is not my interest.

To keep moving this along, because I’m starting to feel pressure over the connection, one point which came to me in a flash is that this explains bad behavior. Like a paedophile would see children from the End in which they are characters who allow him to develop fantasies. This can become as elaborate as the BTK killings: he staged the characters in the highest stakes form of play. The proper approach is from the other End: children are humans, individuals, and thus treating them as characters needs to treat them as they are. This isn’t a perfect solution: there can be no perfect solution because all of these are partial derivatives. Must be because tSpace is continuous in construction, but discrete in pieces, like blocks make castles. And because, if you look up a paragraph or two, you see the impossibility of a perfect solution across a permutation space: ambiguity is immense, results uncertain, which is why people say the only certainties in life are death and taxes.

Here’s an example. I can’t hit on women. It’s not that as a man I don’t feel urges to do that, but the inner me says no because they’re human beings, each its own construction, so I’m happy to get to know people, which means treating them as Objects, but not as tObjects endowed with characteristics. I see people as constructions. They fit into types, which I can see, so I can treat them appropriately: be nice, be friendly, be cooperative, be constructive. But up to a line. Because that line is there, I’m able to function in different environments. (Note: I’m not good when people ignore me. I remember an invitation to a fundraiser for Technion, went, and not a single person would speak to me. It was like I was invisible. Guy gave his presentation, people huddled with those they know, backs all turned to me. Wandered around trying to join a conversation.)

The point I’m trying to make is that starting on the other End of a 1-0Segment orders the outcomes across the permutation space as you make your way across it. Remember, these permutation spaces happen at various levels, from what shall I pull out of the fridge to whether I live or die.

I love girls. I love looking at them. It took me a long time to realize that I was looking for hints of myself in them: what would I be like if, how does it feel to be inside that person in that body. And of course a great frustration in my life is that women react to me as a man so I don’t get to see who they are without that always being there. As a man, I found I don’t enjoy most male bonding. I like sports but not the way the need to win infects everything. I like technique, strategy, tactics, cooperative plays. To me, you should work on getting better, not on winning. But then that may be because the switch of hands was also a switch of sides and I never felt comfortable athletically as a right-hander. I sometimes marvel at how much better I am physically with my left empowered.

To complete this thought, if you begin from the perspective of ‘she’s an individual’ then you can use her types as a hunter to capture her. That’s an example: while thinking from ‘she’s an individual’ identifies very bad behaviors, that also means you can start there and switch to treating her as a character at any level. You see? That’s normal. At some point you always must. Like there are moments during a dance or sex when you become the other’s character: it’s cooperative play, so you do some together and some to or from the other. There is no solution which gets rid of that Alternation potential: it can happen at great depth but be a completely superficial shift or also one of great depth. Like a deep intellectual conversation while being physically intimate, so you touch each other, what I call shell to shell, engaging those parts of yourselves, while similarly engaging the deep parts as they need or want. And this occurs within this larger ‘presence’ which shape shifts because it is the other, like the dragon seen in the way the darkness appears to be real as a roaring blaze spits fire.

I need to stop. Obviously.

——————

This is interesting. I found myself looking at de Rahm cohomolgy and realized I could translate it. With reasonable ease. That’s always been a goal.

I’ve also looked at music notation and am actually able to see it, like the dyslexia is unraveling and I can see and hear the notes. That’s new and I’m not counting it as a real effect yet. But that would be cool.

[vizthedatum]

Self-validation but slightly angry vent

One of the great things about my healing journey has been my own self-validation.

I think “moving on” for me is not about leaving the past behind, but it’s about letting go of people, ideas, and things from your current and future life by brutally and explicitly confronting what happened in the past.

I do not want to forget, and I won’t stop talking about any of it, including all the good stuff.

A lot of people have silenced me, starting with my parents. I learned how to silence myself. And then I’d forget/ignore and repeat all my toxic cycles.

There is very little I can change about how I’m perceived in this world. There will always be people, regardless of any community I’m in, who will judge me on the way I communicate, my neurodivergence, my pain, my gender fluidity, my choices, my varying levels of productivity, etc.

I am going to unfairly judge people too no matter how aware I think I am. I will disappoint people and be straight up wrong. It’s inevitable.

This is what I’m working on now: I want to “move on” from the fear of perception and the shame of my own biases.

I know that, at the very least, I’ll grow and learn if I do this.

I want to revel in MY PRIVILEGE that I worked so hard for by being so unapologetically me: the ugly crying, the meltdowns, the laziness, the makeup, the art, the infodumping, the friendships, the breakups, the lessons, the silliness, the way I move in this world, the anger, the eating, playing with lots of toys, liking cute things, saying what I want… all of it.

I want to not care when I tell people I’m gender fluid and that it is important. I want to tell and show people who I am. I want to bind my breasts in public so bad and be flat and topless - but not every day. I want to snap and be mean to people who don’t use they/them for me. 

I want to be neutral and firm in my beliefs about how I’m not going to guess what anybody wants out of me anymore and how I won’t accept advice that makes me feel uneasy. And I will get upset about anything I feel is remotely discriminatory even if you’re the most “woke” person alive (because if I hold myself to self-reflective standards of trying to understand where I went wrong, why should I not do it to you?).

I don’t care about your feelings about who I am or what I do if you can’t communicate with me. If you don’t like that I identify as a feminine man who is non-binary, sapphic, so thoroughly Bengali, and very spiritual… then what are you doing? Using me for entertainment or an exercise in self-hatred (you’re paying me with your time, money, or energy either way)? I can be compassionate about your pain, and I honestly think it’s pathetic when people cannot be for mine. 

If people think I’m not conforming to their beliefs or that I’m not spending enough (or less) energy/time with them without putting in the effort to communicate, then they can remove themselves from my life (or they will be removed).

I have cut out several friends this year because I deserve so much more alignment than what I settled for in the past. Part of why I’d end up in jobs I was in miserable in, rollercoaster relationships, and friendships with people who could not meet my needs… was because I wasn’t meeting my own needs.

I am an extremely burnt out brown trans person who wants to be free and do spiritually fulfilling work for the world but instead I am perceived as a brown woman who works in academia who gets sexualized when I don’t want to be, used for my kindness by people who think I’m too naive to know any better, lectured by ex-family and ex-friends about how I should act, and straight-up trampled. People have been trampling all over me, and I’ve let them… sometimes I even encouraged it as a form of sick self-harm. 

Maintaining autonomy under capitalism, white supremacy, and paternalistic patriarchy isn’t easy - so I’ll play by some rules so that I stay safe. 

But for now, I validate myself by knowing I’m worthy and fine by being me. Perfect and flawed. My emotions and choices don’t make me crazy. My perceptions are valid and evolving. My body is my body. My career doesn’t define me. I love my relationships. My existence is valuable and priceless.

[alyjojo]

Love Reading 🎎 - February 2023 - Scorpio

Singles:

Overall energy: The Chariot rev

How you will meet: Queen of Swords

How they will treat you: 7 Cups

Long-term Potential: 7 Swords & The Fool

I hate to call you “lesser evolved”, but that’s the vibe I’m getting from this reading on your end. Young or inexperienced Scorpios are often SO eager for love, they’d fall in love with a tree stump if it would agree. No offense, truly 🙏 Because the point is you deserve better than this, and you put up with it because you just want to be with someone, but someone deserving of your affections is better. There’s no movement with either of these people, there are two. You meet Queen of Wands after a former lover leaves, off to search for “better” somewhere else, and you’re single. It’s probably no time before this other person comes in, but it feels like you’re the one chasing them, with Stalker coming up and all, you’ve probably had your eye on them for awhile. But they don’t choose you.

Either you’re stuck to something else, or they are, and the dynamic between you is one like they know you’re an option, and you’re bitter that they do nothing, but they don’t and they won’t. Long term is this person avoiding a new beginning with you like it’s the plague. They could even ghost you, or lie. It’s a feeling of they really like you but maybe not in the same way, though they aren’t outright saying that, or again they’re tied up with something else and aren’t interested in something new with you. If you’re stuck between two right now, it’s probably neither.

Messages -

Their side:

- I just don’t know what to say.

- I’ve never met anyone like you.

Your side:

- Boujee 💅🏽

- Stalker 👀

Signs you may be dealing with:

Cancer, Aquarius, Aries & Virgo

Couples:

Overall energy: 6 Swords

Current: The Moon

Challenge: Strength

Potential: 2 Pentacles rev

There’s a lot of major arcana here, clearly this is a very important time in this relationship, which feels like a make or break decision. The pressure of that is killing you. You’re currently sitting in fear that any toxic cycles, addictions, obsessions on any level - maybe can’t be healed, can’t be fixed, not while things still stand as they are. If something triggers change, then so be it, but you’re less than hopeful that’s possible while you stay in this connection. The goal is to move away from drama and begin anew, whether with this person or not. The challenge is you holding yourself back, along with any frustrations you may have, because you don’t actually want to end things. The end hurts, it hurts this other person, you don’t want to do it. The potential is you being under SO much pressure having to juggle things, ideas, decisions, real life problems, you just can’t take it anymore. You don’t know if you want to keep trying, or fix a connection at all, or if you want to keep going in some other direction. There is no clear answer here, but a LOT of major arcana energy. That shows the situation itself is a big deal, meeting this person and whatever has transpired to put you here, even oracles nod towards past life connections - which could be what’s at play…karmic circumstances, BUT, the decision is ultimately yours. And the reading isn’t giving answers, showing different people choose different things. No choice is wrong. What is best for your life?

Messages -

Their side:

- Not ready…yet

- Darker Skin Tone

Your side:

- Follow My Lead

- Excellent Cook 🍱

Oracles -

Their side:

Be careful that negativity doesn’t lodge in your body. Visualize a green light around you for protection.

Identify yourself by your thoughts and feelings and not what you own.

Your side:

You can be a caregiver and rescuer, but be sure you’re own caregiver first.

Ask God to remove any negativity from you, even something that may have happened in a past life that is affecting this life.

Signs you may be dealing with:

Aquarius, Pisces, Capricorn & Libra

[petnews2day]

Adopting a sweet, skittish rescue dog has taught me how to manage my own fizzing brain | Patrick Lenton

New Post has been published on https://petnews2day.com/pet-news/dog-news/adopting-a-sweet-skittish-rescue-dog-has-taught-me-how-to-manage-my-own-fizzing-brain-patrick-lenton/

Adopting a sweet, skittish rescue dog has taught me how to manage my own fizzing brain | Patrick Lenton

After a week of having Basil lope through my house – the tic-tac sound of a weird, long dog all legs and suspicious side-eye trotting down the hallway – I came up with the pea theory and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. The pea theory, while mostly rescue-greyhound specific, mostly about their strange little adorable brains, has helped me understand their world a bit better. It broadened my own tiny weird brain too.

Basil suffered through a few years as a racing dog. The effects of that time are physically prominent – a handful of racing accident scars on his glossy black coat, his dirty green branding tattoo, a bald butt and legs caused from the unnatural stress of being forced to race. He’s almost the archetype of a greyhound – black with distinguished salt-and-pepper patches on his long snoot, tall and long and awkward, the world’s gentlest eyes. A friend once described greyhounds as looking like “an old sack full of coathangers” and having one in my house only makes this description more evocative and true.

But as with most rescue dogs, it’s mentally where the real consequences of being abused show up. Compared with other rescue dogs I’ve trained, Basil is a dream – barely reactive to other dogs, loves people, doesn’t suffer much in the way of resource guarding (being territorial around food/ beds) that is common with ex-racers. But what we have discovered is that Basil, primarily, hates situations.

This is not an official diagnosis – technically he suffers from anxiety, which manifests in a variety of ways – but my partner and I have identified that in layman’s terms, Basil hates to recognise and endure situations. A situation can be anything – leaving the house, being near a pigeon, dealing with people in two different rooms, having food served at the “wrong” time, someone knocking on the door – and it will discombobulate him to such an extent that he will be stressed and sooky for the rest of the day.

The behaviourist at the adoption agency, Gumtree Greys, told us all about stress and cortisol levels, pointing out that cortisol lingers in their brains and that stress can be cumulative, so after being scared by a carrot falling off a bench, three hours later during a walk he might freeze on a street corner and not move for 15 minutes, staring at nothing. His brain is still flooded with cortisol.

Not being a scientist, I found the cortisol level description hard to relate to, and after a couple of weeks, settled on the pea theory instead: Basil’s brain is a bunch of frozen peas floating in Coca-Cola. All it takes is a little bit of stress for the Coke to start fizzing and the peas to start bobbing around frantically like popcorn on a skillet. Of course he can’t make rational, calm decisions – his peas are popping! We’ve learned that once a situation has been endured, it’s about calming him down, removing him from the stress if possible, and waiting for those frantic peas to settle before asking him to do anything that requires even a skerrick of concentration or discipline.

Basil the greyhound Photograph: Patrick Lenton/Supplied

I love the pea theory because it helps us understand the peculiar needs and desires and fears of this creature who now lives in our house. Greyhounds can be almost alien. I’ve had dogs all my life, and I’m still surprised by the differences. They don’t sit because they can’t; they express affection by big leans; they sleep essentially all day. Add on the trauma of an exploitative and violent racing life, and it’s no wonder they’re left with the soda and legume situation.

But I also love the pea theory because it has helped me get through my own horror of situations. Recently, I came back from minor day surgery and found myself unable to concentrate on work. I realised that having a huge square of flesh cut out of my neck had gotten my own peas a-tumblin‘. So I sat down with a cup of tea and a romance novel and let them settle. When I feel my own Coca-Cola brain start to heat up and the peas begin to jumble, I try to be kind to myself.

Weekend app

Adopting Basil was in itself something of a situation. My partner and I were well-prepared. I’d adopted two rescue dogs before, I have a good background in training reactive dogs and we had sunk our life savings into beds and toys at Petbarn. We were ready for the work we would have to do to help out a dog that had lived an awful life, that probably hadn’t experienced much kindness, that had been through a disorienting series of foster homes, and we believed in the importance of doing it. On the first night, we set him up in his bed in our room, and when we turned the lights off to go to sleep, he cried – not howled or whined, but actually sobbed like a lost, abandoned child. That first week, learning his boundaries and his fears and his anxieties were enough to get us stressed and fearful, worried we weren’t up to looking after this terrified snake-dog. We found ourselves just sitting and watching him, tense, our own peas a tornado of concern.

So it was something of a surprise when we fell overwhelmingly and disgustingly in love with Basil. It’s been two months now, and it’s beyond rewarding to watch him emerge from his shell, to become a goofy, affectionate dog who loves his routine, who is learning how to play with toys, who has become a local celebrity who old people yell compliments to as we walk past the nearby retirement village in his snazzy outfits. I’ve never met a sweeter, gentler dog.

My peas, where I was concerned about the work ahead of me, about the disruption of my life, about the responsibility of owning a traumatised dog, have entirely settled, and I couldn’t imagine life without this odd bag of bones leaning against me, without a snoot nestled in the crook of my arm as I type, without his gorgeous tiny brain fizzing and popping.

[mademoisellehypergamy]

✨ CREATING A PERSONA FOR HYPERGAMY & SOCIAL CLIMBING  ✨

The votes are in and “Persona” won! Ladies, get the notebooks out. Class is in session. And this is gonna be a long one.

Be honest with me: Are you currently your ideal woman? The majority of you will probably answer honestly and say no. And there’s nothing wrong with admitting that. The harsh reality is most women on their hypergamous journey aren’t even close to being the ideal woman they aspire to be. Hell, the average woman (hypergamous or not) will probably live her life never being able to become that woman, if we’re being completely honest here.

I believe every hypergamous woman should create and adopt a persona. You are who you believe to be. When I was younger, my teachers and parents told me I was academically gifted. So guess what? I believed the same! That pushed me to work even harder in school. Same concept applies here. You are who you believe to be. A persona isn’t a “fake” version of you. It is you. Your ideal person. It is malleable, so it can change at anytime. Just like you changed throughout your life.

STEP 0 - WHY YOU SHOULD ADOPT A PERSONA

✨Not Everyone Will Win the Birth Lottery. But that doesn’t mean you can’t rewrite your past, and repave your future path. Let’s face it: some of you were born into bad circumstances; abusive families, poverty, toxic relationships, obstacles and barriers, etc. And some of you are living lives currently that you aren’t satisfied with: stressful job, health issues, bad environment, *insert sob story here*, blah, blah, blah, woe is me!  But should your current and past conditions get in the way of your hypergamous journey? No! Absolutely not. 

✨You Can’t Be the Same Basic B*tch Forever. Okay b*tch, when you were being “true to yourself” in the past, look where it got you. Probably in a less than favorable situation. Congratulations for being an authentic basic b*tch! 🥳😊

Ladies, change is necessary. When you started your hypergamous journey, you underwent a change. Are you saying your hypergamous self is fake? Of course it isn’t! It’s still you, just an “elevated you”. One that is more aware and knows what she wants. 

✨ Most People Don’t Even Know Who TF They Are. It’s sad, but true. Most people are lost and suppressing their true desires and personality. I’m here encouraging you ladies to create your ideal persona and to become this woman. Because this woman is who you are deep inside, who you want to be. Stop hiding her! Create her, and become her! As long as this person isn’t harming anyone, there is no reason you shouldn’t chase your dream self.

STEP 1 - CHOOSE & CREATE YOUR PERSONA

This is the fun part ladies! Time to choose and create your new persona!

✨ What Kind of Woman Do You Aspire to Be?  Have fun with this ladies! What kind of woman have you always dreamt of becoming? Is she wildly intelligent and beautiful? Or perhaps she has a heart of gold and is adored by all?  Nothing is off limits. This is you.

For those of you who are truly struggling, below I have included a few examples of common personas. If you don’t know where to begin, choose one as the “foundation” and build on it. Make it your own!

*Disclaimer: Anyone that I mentioned/included below is simply for inspiration. Not all of these women are hypergamous. This is just for inspiration*

1. The Socialite/ The “It” Girl: This is the girl that everyone knows. She’s always at a party with a glass of champagne, wearing the latest styles, and living the BEST life. She’s glamorously unattainable and few have access to her, but somehow she’s a part of every social circle.

Inspiration: Jamie Chua (https://www.instagram.com/ec24m/)

2. The Traveler: This is the girl that travels constantly. Whether it’s across the globe or to a different state/town, she’s always on the go! No one seems to know how she funds her lifestyle because she always appears to be traveling and never working. Her pictures are always on point and high quality, with a combination of bikini pictures, relaxing scenery, exotic foods, and endless hotels.

Inspiration: Jennifer Tuffen (https://www.instagram.com/izkiz/)

3. The Influencer: Think of the ultimate Instagram Baddie; perfect body (usually because of surgery), full lips, carefully applied makeup, nails always done, hair on point. She is sponsored by all the clothes brands, and lives lavishly. She’s always out at a restaurant and traveling. Typically dresses in more revealing clothes/lots of bikinis.  What differentiates her from the Socialite? The degree of elegance and class. While the Socialite gives you an “heiress” vibe, the Influencer is more on the “flashy celebrity” side.

Inspiration: Kaylar Will (https://www.instagram.com/kaylarwill/)

4. Femme Fatale: She rarely posts on social media, but when she does, it only makes you question her existence more. This girl is beautifully sensual, and her social media only reveals bits and pieces of her life. She is an entire mystery, no one knows about her private life. One day she’ll be flying from London, the next she’ll be visiting an art gallery  She’ll sometimes post images of gifted roses with poetry captions. She oozes seduction and dark mystery. 

Inspiration: Dita Von Teese (https://www.instagram.com/ditavonteese) Now I thought long and hard about who to choose for this one, and if you take a moment to look at Dita’s IG account, you will understand why. You will notice that the ONLY thing she posts about is her clothes/lingerie brand or things relating to business. She reveals nothing about her personal life. Every post is promotion about her business. In fact, the last time she posted something about her “life” was on October 8th when she posted her CAT modeling another designer’s scarf. She’s a very discreet woman, and it works in her favor.

5. Girl Next Door: You know that basic b*tch that’s SUPER popular for no reason? This is her. From her Starbucks to her Tiktoks, she’s just your average girl living her life. In a way, she isn’t a threat because she seems approachable, relatable, and friendly enough through social media. Something about her aspires others that they can achieve a similar lifestyle. She’s terribly basic, but somehow, it works. 

Inspiration: Loren Gray (https://www.instagram.com/loren/)

6. Exotica: *This persona is best suited for women of color* She is exotically beautiful and unique. She is a trendsetter, not a follower. She has an air of heightened sexuality, with a touch of grounded-spirituality. Something about her is wild and untamed, and she oozes excitement and adventure. 

Inspiration: Monica Leon, or “Danger”. Now if you’re in my generation, you may remember the reality show “For the Love of Ray J” (which was ghetto btw💀). To this day, one girl that I will NEVER forget on that show, was “Danger”, the girl with the tiger tattoo on her face and that NO ONE liked, but Ray J was obsessed with. Although she no longer is on Instagram (and has since legally changed her name), I still believe she naturally embodied that exotic and mysterious woman persona. I recommend watching the show for free on Youtube just to observe her (and only her because the other women were pickme’s  💀)

7. The Luxurious Diamond: This woman is the epitome of class and elegance. She exudes femininity and grace, and holds an air of mystery by only showing us bits and pieces of her life. What we see is soft luxuries, wineries, beautiful clothes/scenery, and a life of comfort. She balances a mature, elegant, ladylike presence, with subtle girly-youthfulness. 

Inspiration: Г-жа Анисимова   https://www.instagram.com/creme_de.la_femme/

✨How Does She Look Like? From her hair to how she wears her makeup, be able to create a vivid description of her appearance. Being able to do this will show you where to work on with your current appearance.

✨Personality We all have traits about ourselves that we don’t like. This is your chance to identify your traits that you love and maximize them, while also working on the aspects of your personality that are a bit more problematic.

It’s important to recognize that some “negative” traits are not really negative. Society just shames us for them. For example, “The Socialite” persona may be polite, but that doesn’t mean she’s super open and friendly with everyone. Not everyone is her friend, and she is naturally unattainable. So why would she be super friendly to everyone? Some may call her “standoffish”, but I call it “selective”.

✨Past Self? Not a Problem.  So let’s say you had a less than perfect childhood and endured a lot of trauma. Not a problem, just reinvent your past! Now I’m not saying to straight up lie and make up a crazy story about how you grew up with billionaire parents and traveled the globe. I’m saying adopt a realistic story that’ll help you on your journey. 

For example, if your date were to ask about your past, instead of telling him how tragic your childhood was and how you were homeless and abused by your parents, and no longer have a relationship with them, you can say: “I moved around a lot as a child (“homelessness”), so I really enjoyed being able to interact with a lot of different people (make the negative seem positive). My parents still move around a lot, so it’s hard for us to meet (explains why you aren’t in contact with your parents). 

Reword and reframe, ladies. Not everyone needs to know everything.

STEP 2 - BRING HER TO LIFE

✨Remove. You cannot embrace your new persona, your new IDENTITY, if you are still stuck in the past. And that includes past connections that do not serve you. Some of your old friends (college friends, childhood friends, etc.) are not meant to accompany you on this journey. And that’s OKAY. Same with other toxic relationships in your life, family included. You will have to decide who to keep, and who to distance yourself from.

✨ Social Media! I’ve mentioned this in an earlier post, but social media is the easiest way for you to push your new persona. You control the content that goes on your social media, so even if you haven’t fully embodied your new persona, you can sure as hell fake it on social media. 

- Unless your persona is a socialite/influencer type, avoid posting too often. - Be consistent; if you retouch your images, make sure its consistent with all your photos. - Be mindful of what people tag you in/post about you. You know that “friend” who always posts the ugliest pictures of you? Yeah. They’re not your friend, hun. 

✨Dress. The. Part. Okay, sis. You can have the personality down perfectly, but if the look doesn’t match, no one will buy it. Your look is the first thing people notice, so invest in it. It doesn’t cost a lot, especially with fast fashion sites like Shein that sells clothes for $5. Just be able to keep up the appearance.

✨ Immerse Yourself in the Environment.  Looking the part and having the right personality is not enough, ladies! It wouldn’t make sense for you to be a “Socialite” sharing pictures of you eating at Red Lobster and Olive Garden every night. It wouldn’t make sense for the “Traveler” persona to share only bathroom selfies in her apartment. You have to live like the woman you aspire to be, and that includes placing yourself in those environments.

If you are not in the place financially to do so, learn to project the image without spending money. Ex: If you can’t afford to go to Hawaii, go to your local beach and take bomb ass pictures. Don’t tag the location. People will automatically see a beach in your picture and assume you are on vacation traveling. Get creative, ladies. 

✨You Owe Them Nothing. Ladies! Remember you don’t owe anyone anything. Not an explanation, not your time, nothing. So if you are living this new persona and people are asking questions you don’t want to answer: don’t. This is your life. 

STEP 3 - YOUR PERSONA WHILE DATING HYPERGAMOUSLY & SOCIAL CLIMBING

So now that you have created your ideal persona, and taken the steps to incorporate it into your life, how can you use your newfound persona to aid you on your hypergamous journey and while social climbing?

✨Infiltrate New Circles. Your persona should be someone exciting and enticing. People love befriending people who are happy and adventurous. Use your persona to befriend others and enter new social circles. You can do this through: - Social media; follow similar accounts to yours and interact with them. - Activities related to your persona; Let’s say you adopted the “The Luxurious Diamond” persona and started visiting wineries. You may notice when you go that there are regulars; identify the regulars and use your common interest of wine to strike a conversation. -Interest groups; join clubs/groups that help you reach your goals. For example, “The Traveler” may have always wanted to travel to Bali, but didn’t want to go alone. She joins a travel group to meet other likeminded inviduals and meets a travel buddy. This person ends up introducing her to others who also enjoy traveling.

✨ Be a Chameleon. You should  never be set on just one persona. Like I said earlier, your persona should always be malleable. You should be able to change yourself to your benefit, and always be open to expansion. When it comes to dating, a man may “want” a certain type of woman, but the secret is that most men just want a woman who is open to possibilities.  I remember a man who used to be on my roster who loved music. This man was always insisting on taking me to operas and symphonies. And he too was a musician (I really don’t like dating musicians, but that’s a topic for another day), so whenever he was performing he would have me sitting in the box so I’d have an “undisturbed” experience.  Now ladies, I’m not into music AT ALL.  But I was open and willing, and guess what? The man adored it, and he adored me even more! He spoiled me like crazy and would serenade me with music he wrote about me because I was his “muse”. Although I ended up ghosting him, I definitely appreciate a good opera now! 

✨Be Larger than Life to Entice. The attractive part about these personas is the fact that it feels almost fake. The image that is portrayed is almost mythical, like something out of a fantasy. You can’t believe this girl is traveling so much, or you can’t believe this girl still has a social life in the middle of a pandemic! It’s unbelievable, but that’s what makes us so intrigued. Men especially love fantasy. That’s why many men have a “dream girl”, a woman that embodies their physical and emotional fantasies. They love the impossible. It’s also important to remember that you are always being watched. People see you, whether in person or on social media, and when they see someone or something more interesting than their mundane life, curiosity will get the best of them. They’ll be drawn to you and want to know you.

✨ The Persona Advantage. Creating a persona is supposed to help your journey. The purpose is to reinvent yourself into someone who will help you better navigate your hypergamous life.  For example, if you are trying to get into more exclusive, affluent circles, creating a persona who is skilled in social and dining etiquette would be more beneficial than a persona that’s an Instagram Influencer. Being an Instagram Baddie that wears Fashion Nova won’t help you at a Charity Gala. So be sure to think of what you desire in life to shape yourself into that. Don’t just become someone who won’t get you to where you want to be. 

This post will definitely have a Part 2 in the future, but in conclusion: You can be whoever you want to be as long as you play the role. Be an actress in your own life, and live the life you desire.

Well ladies, I’ll be away for Valentine’s day weekend. Wishing you all a wonderful and safe weekend ❤️ Lots of love.

Follow my IG for more: @mademoisellehypergamy

[henqtic]

Can you do a draco x reader with us watching a film and reader saying how they’re crushing over a certain character

𝘭𝘦𝘰’𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k (1674)

authors note: just pretend that the battle of hogwarts never happened— that event ruins everything :/ and thanks for requesting !! it made me get a lot more inspiration to finish my other wips <3

masterlist. // taglist form. // request more works.

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the room smelled of freshly buttered popcorn, soft drinks, and unhealthy snacks and for the same reason the night celebration was in place, strong mint gum. tonight was cleared, a time for you and draco to just relax, cuddle up within each other and have a break from everything going around.

the years after graduating a boarding school were life changing, even wizards themselves who could conjure up almost anything they’d ever want or possibly dream of but still, it was the time of realization for who and what you wanted to be.

and yes, there were the newts but they didn’t help much once you really got a look into the real world. many had found a passion in something that seemed wondrous— more fun. traveling and exploring the world, maybe even discovering more mystical creatures that hadn’t been learned in a simple care of magical creatures class and weren't seen in their own time because their parents didn't have the resources.

and some were set on everything but those test scores, a family business awaiting their sole airs take over and draco well, he was a part of that some. and surprisingly enough, even after all that time and all of those expectations set on him to live up to and stay in his family standard, he didn’t, and it was much to your encouragement.

his interest in healing sprung up in his last year of schooling coming to the conclusion that he’d been a prejudiced bully— not that he hadn’t already known that but, of course he did. but once he was left with less than five friends and a girlfriend who was steadily distancing herself further and further away from him, it set in.

so that’s where it started, him identifying nearly all of his mistakes and attempting to heal what had been broken relationships— which most never really did. but it was a change, and a good one at that, it brought him an inner joy, not for the factor of him getting things out of it like you wanting to be in his company more often but that he was mending the seemingly unfixable things.

it made him want to do that and not run a stuffy business that didn't do much but treat their workers poorly and customers even worse so he turned to medicine. observing how so many things lined up with potions, adding the right amount of this, and crushing that up the right way, to make a final product. a product that would soon heal the injured and bring a great smile to both of their faces.

but what he hadn’t realized was that being a healer took time and hard work— almost unusual to someone like him, being constantly handled things and easy ways out but with this, there was no fast tracking or getting anywhere if you didn’t have the right skill set or talents.

so to say he wasn’t ready for it would be a wrong statement. but to say he was exhausted, completely drained of all energy would be completely right. even after all of your cheering on, reminding him that it was only a few more months of studying and one big more test until he’d get to know if he earned his title of healer malfoy.

and usually, that worked, but after tonight after taking that so called big test, his mind was racked with anxiousness. if he didn’t pass, his father would be on his back, telling him how it was a waste of money and how he should've listened to him to that you’d even be disappointed in him— unlikely but as said before, there was nothing but anxious thoughts and anxious scenarios coming through.

so it was painfully clear that your natural remedies wouldn’t work, countless amount of neck kisses and back rubs and muscle soothing not sufficing so you both agreed on the last thing you couldn’t think about, a simple night with the television on, just in each other’s company to try and get his mind off of things—

“you said this was a muggle film, correct?” he called out for confirmation, eyeing the packaging of the movie you called.. the titanic?

“mhm, one of my favorite movies, i just know you’ll love it,” you said from the other side of the living room with a wide smile on your face, near close to beating a cheshire cats. the movie itself was beautiful, you couldn’t lie, the directing and acting brought tears to your eyes almost every time you watched it.

but there was ‘something’ else that could bring tears to your eyes, a gazing stare at the screen whenever his parts would come on.

draco handed you the plastic, allowing you to remove the disk and insert it into the dvd player. you quickly made your way back into the make shift bed made out of blankets and pillows and once the black screen turned green, copyrighted warnings started, you tucked yourself into his awaiting arms.

“why’d you say you loved this again?” he asked for the second time, limbs wrapped around your body as you searched for a response.

“umm, really eye catching.”

and yeah, of course, you were comfortable with him, growing up going to the same school for months at a time and then dating for a good fraction of those years. there was also the memory of a night where you two tirelessly played a game of dare or dare, multitudes of dares coming both your ways to say the most embarrassing, weird, or even azkaban worthy things you’ve done.

but it was something else telling him that you were crushing over a fictional character— who wasn’t even that since the story was true but you were crushing on the actor of that said fictional character that you had no chance with and that, well it was something better left unsaid.

and as it went on, he could see that too, the way your eyes were stuck onto the screen the other blonde was in frame— on the break of amusing how’d the only time your attention would shift is when he’d reach you another piece of popcorn, you offering a grateful smile before focusing back.

your mouth was slightly agape, opening for another piece just how the rhythm had been going, him eating one, him feeding you one, him eating one and so on but now he was beating it further and further away from before your body eventually gave up, falling on his chest.

“hey, why’d you that?” you groaned, annoyed that you were now looking at him from below instead of watching the film.

“why’d you say you picked this again?” his eyes were narrowed down at you, a sly smirk in place. you moved around, trying to remember your excuse and hide the growing smile arising to your face.

“I already told you, it’s eye catching.”

“no,no,no, who’s eye catching?” he asked again, this time correcting himself in order to get a more truthful response. you let out a half embarrassed, half astonished laugh before answering—

“if i tell you, you can’t laugh.” all he did was raise his eyebrows at you, positioning you on his lap, signaling for you to go on with two taps of his finger on your thighs.

“okay well—” you paused, a loss of words and a huff following, “all i’m saying is if jack were to run me over... i’d be the one to apologize.”

your tone of seriousness only made the barks of laughter from the boy underneath you louder, a small pout coming on your face as a response trying to not end up laughing at yourself—

“jack, are you serious? he’s one of the most basic people i’ve seen,” he said through breaths of air, slight tones of jealousy coming out making your head turn in feign sympathy.

“you do know that i’m dating you, right?”

“yea and what’s that supposed to mean?”

“your eyes are blue and hair is blonde and you’re the typical skinny wh—” you started, responding to his defensiveness in the best way possible.

“it sounds like you’re just describing him.” point completely missed. “and so what, what could a fictional character do for you that i couldn’t?” he asked with a smirk, your face saying nothing but unfazed and unamused.

“fine even though if you were listening you'd know that he’s not completely fictional, but everything. would you ever go down with me on an unsinkable ship and then let me survive only the door we could find?” you asked, sighing after like it’d been a dream of yours.

“no. love, take this as me caring for you but i don’t think we’d sink on an unsinkable ship— it’s in the name.”

“were you not listening? and stop, it’s romantic, don’t ruin this for me,” you scolded, lightly hitting his arm.

“they both could’ve gotten on, jack just wasn’t the brightest. and would you really rather date someone that daft over me?” his nose scrunched to further show his disgust, your scoff not failing to sound after.

“know what, if you were a fictional character, no one would like you.”

“sure, i bet i’d have at least two hundred of you treating me like him.” the smugness in his tone was apparent than ever. you loved him, more than anything in the world but, he wasn’t much compared to jack dawson. 

and then came the other obstacle, there not being a valid way to prove to someone like him, with such an inflated ego that no one would like a fictional character version of him. and when you repeated that, he was extremely butt hurt, still allowing his arms to reopen for you to snuggle back in.

single moments passed, another film starting to ease the argument before he spitefully grumbled, “i’d have people all over me.”

“no you wouldn’t!” you whisper shouted back tilting your head up to see his pouting face. 

“yes I would, don’t doubt me—”

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[accio-moony]

Escape || Remus Lupin x Reader SMUT

Request: no. A/N: I’ve been working on this for months. I am disgusted with myself for taking so long. Not fully edited, so probably lots of mistake. Forgive me. Word Count: ~9k Characters/Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader, James, Lily, and Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew Summary: [NO VOLDEMORT AU, post Hogwarts Marauder’s era]It’s near a full moon, but you and your boyfriend Remus are going to Harry’s fifth (5th) birthday celebration. Remus gets really turned on when he sees you with Harry and tries to control it, but he can’t. WARNINGS: face fucking, breeding kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, spanking, marking (scratching, hicks, biting), grinding hair pulling, choking, teasing, dom/sub relationship, overstimulation, dirt talk [all in no particular order god I’m disgusting] *not my gifs*

A loud crash sounds from outside your bathroom, making you jump in surprise and almost slip on the slick shower floor. Out of instinct, your arms come up to cover your chest, though the curtain covers you and whoever it was hasn’t made it to the bedroom yet. Quickly, you turn the water off, and you’re left cold as the remaining hot water runs off of your body. You grab the fluffy towel you had set out and wrap it around your frame before picking your wand up from the counter and slowly opening the bathroom door. You sneakily move to the bedroom doorway and peak down the hall. A tall shadowed figure stands in the great room, a duffle bag in one of his hands, a wand in the other.

“Y/n” the familiar voice calls to you when the man sees you. “Hold on. Lumos.” A small orb of light sits at the end of the man’s wand, and you can quickly identify the face of your boyfriend of several years, Remus, from under the blue-glow of the wand’s light.

“Oh, Remus,” you sigh, and your shoulders relax. “You scared me.” You walk down the hall to him and smack his arm playfully.

“Hmm, I missed you, too,” he grumbles and leans down, kissing you.

The kiss is soft and quick, but still holds all the love you’ve both built up over the years. When he pulls his lips away from yours, you whine, not yet having opened your eyes as you revel in the messed feelings of his lips on yours. He had just spent two weeks with one of his best mates, Sirius, but he was now home.

“Rem,” you say as you open your eyes, but he’s no longer standing in front of you. “Remus?” You call and turn back down the hall.

You find him in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed next to his duffle bag which he had put down. His head leans into his hands as his elbows rest on his knees. You move from the hall to stand between his legs, but he doesn’t look up at you. You carefully grab his cheeks in your hands and pull his face up so he’s looking at you, but he keeps his eyes closed with furrowed brows. 

His actions confuse you. He’s usually very affectionate with you, loving any touch you give him. Slightly confused by his lack of reaction, you think of any obvious reason he could be acting this way, and your mind found the answer rather quickly: the full moon is in just two days. You turn your head back to him, not saying a word as you remove one hand from his cheek and trace your index finger down the bridge of his nose. He softens under your touch this time and quickly reaches up to wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer so he can rest his head on your belly.

You giggle as you run your fingers through his hair. “I thought we had planned to meet at James’s, honey?” You question him. 

At the mention of the small celebration that takes place in just over an hour, Remus drops his arms from your waist and leaned back on his elbows with his head lolled back, and of course, you take immediate notice to his change in demeanor.

“We don’t have to go, Rem,” you quickly counter. “We can stay home, just the two of us, in bed if you’d like.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “You want to go. I would want to go if I weren’t so… well, you know. And they’re expecting us.” He looks into your eyes as he stands from the bed, his tall frame making you stumble back a few steps as he becomes unexpectedly close, towering over you several inches. He places his hands on your shoulders, steadying you as he plants a kiss to your cheek, but his lips linger and wander back towards your ear, his breath hot against your skin making your blood boil. “I’ll be fine,” he says lowly, “but you better go finish getting ready before I change my mind.” His hand slides down and then under your arm, wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you closer until your chest is pressed against his own. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart.” His lips trail back over your cheek and jaw until they reach your lips. He captures yours with his own in a hungry kiss, the hand not around your waist wrapping into your still wet hair and pulling it backwards so he has better access to your mouth. The tension of the pull makes you let out a whiny moan into the kiss as your skin heats up.

You pull away and look into his eyes. They’re dark with lust and hunger. “Go,” he demands, and you scurry into the bathroom, Remus clapping his hand on your butt as you walk away, closing the door behind you and finishing getting ready. 

Once the door is closed behind you, Remus pushes his hand down on his semi, trying to give it some sort of relief. You don’t know yet, but he had gone to spend some time with Sirius, because they were discussing how Remus would ask you to marry him, and he had picked out the ring. You’re the only person in his life to ever make him feel normal and worthy of love. You had convinced him, after many years, that he is not a monster. He’s just Remus, with a furry-little-problem once a month. It had taken him years to believe you, and sometimes it’s still hard for him to, but you had shown him that his lycanthropy does not define who he is, and that he is, in your words, the best guy you’ve ever met and ever will meet. It wasn’t until the both of you left Hogwarts that he knew you were right. He knew you would always be by his side, no matter what condition, no matter what happens. You stood with him for the seven years of Hogwarts like you had known him all your life. You didn’t bat an eye when he told you about him, and you worked with his fellow marauders to become an animagus for him, so you could be with him for his transformations, not just to take care of him on the ends of it. He knows, and as his friends have pointed out on many occasions, you would never leave him. You love him too much. Remus would have to do something truly terrible for you to leave his side. After having convinced himself for so long that he could never have a real family, or even friends, you finally made him grow comfortable enough to the idea to believe he can, though he hadn’t told you yet. To your knowledge, he was still an insecure boy who thought he could never love. He knew you wouldn’t stop until you knew you had convinced him, and then you’d continue reinforcing the idea from then on. He’s able to imagine you with a grown baby, carrying his child, but he never mentioned it to anyone until this past holiday when he told Sirius. He had always pushed the thought aside, not wanting to get his hopes up, not wanting to pass his lycanthropy to an innocent infant. If you loved him for what he is, and you take care of him, then he knows you would do the same for your child, but the thought of passing the trait still terrifies him, but to a lesser extent. 

He turns to his bag on the bed and pulls the small velvet box out of the hidden pocket inside, going to hide it in one of his drawers, one you never go in — his underwear drawer. He opens the box, admiring the ring for a moment. The ring is small, simple but elegant, and he knows you’ll love it, he knows it reflects your personality and relationship perfectly. It’s simple: besides all the crazy stuff in between, the main picture is just love — the only thing that matters in the relationship. He still has to decide how to ask you. He knows he wants it to be romantic, but he also wants it to be as soon as possible. The romantic part isn’t difficult, it’s the having to wait until they’re not so close to the full moon. He could ask you tonight, before the gathering, but he doesn’t want you to think of it as a rash decision he made because of the full moon. If it was, he would’ve asked you months ago, maybe on a night where you were scolding him for trying to drink away the post-transformation pain. Quite the contrary, really. Usually, during a full moon, he’d get more self-conscious, feel more like you deserve better, but the full moons have begun to prove to him that he will marry you. You’re always there no matter what, and you always will be. He knows that, and he wants to keep it that way.

He hears the bathroom door open, and he quickly shoves the box haphazardly into the drawer.

“What’re you doing?” You ask him suspiciously.

“Uh,” he grabs a random pair of long black socks. “Looking for these,” he excuses, turning to you as he holds up the socks for you to see. It’s then he notices you’re in your favorite matching black lace bra and thong, and he curses his blood for running hot and straight to his groin. 

“Uh-huh,” you nod, still skeptical as you walk closer to him. 

As you reach the closet and start to look for an outfit, he quickly closes the drawer to try to hide the box from you.

He rummages through his clothes, picking out a plain white dress shirt with a dark red cable-knit sweater that contrasts just enough to wear with the pair of jeans he already had on and his favorite sneakers, sporting his signature comfortable-but-intelligent, soft attire and just enough of his old house colors. He puts the clothes on the bed with a subtle tie and pulls his jumper over his head, leaving him bare. In the mirror, you can see his back muscles flex and tense as he pulls the dress shirt up over his shoulders and start to button it. You walk over to him, laying the skirt and top you chose next to his outfit and helping him button up his shirt. 

“Let me help,” you smirk as you grab his shirt, looking up into his amber eyes innocently. You let your fingers trace over his muscles and is scars as you admire it all, never shying away from his flaws. When the shirt is buttoned, you grab the tie from the bed and toss it around his neck, grabbing the other end as it comes around and tugging his neck so he gets to a height where you can stand on your toes and kiss him passionately, biting and pulling on his lower lip as you pull away, releasing it softly as you lick your lips, looking into his pupil-blown eyes. 

As casually as possible, you step back from him and grab your clothes. First your mini skirt, pulling it over your bum and purposely squeezing into it give Remus a show. You grab your semi-casual blouse and pull it on, then tucking the bottom hem into the skirt. 

By this point Remus had his tie done and was pulling the sweater over his head, smoothing it down his chest. You grab your small wedges and wand before walking towards the door. 

“Let’s go, Remmy,” you call to him as you walk into and down the hall, your hips naturally swaying with each step.

Behind you, when he sees your hips move like that, Remus growls under his breath, but quickly subdues it with a cough as he follows you, grabbing his own wand on the way out, failing to pretend he could get the image of your plump ass out of his head. You grab the gift-wrapped box for the party, and the two of you went into the front garden, just by the old, rickety front gate. Remus holds his arm out to you, and you take it, preparing yourself for the sickening feeling of apparation. Your feet are lifted off the ground as you swirl into a spaceless darkness, squeezing through time and space in a way that would be nauseating to anyone who didn’t do it several times a day. 

It had been several hours since you and Remus had arrived at James and Lily’s house. You were in the kitchen with Lily, talking about what life is like, and how it changes once you marry and have children. You want that with Remus, and you had since before the two of you left Hogwarts. In Remus’ eyes, to your knowledge, he could never put that burden on someone for the rest of their lives. He didn’t want to risk passing his lycanthropy on to his children, who did nothing wrong, did nothing to deserve the condition, no matter how often you remind Remus that he didn’t do anything wrong, that he didn’t do anything to deserve the painful monthly transition. You wish you could make him see himself through your eyes, make him see how perfect he is. You wish you could make him see himself through his friends eyes, make him see how James, Sirius, and Peter adore him. You’ve confided in Lily about this before, and every time, she tells you how James tells her the same thing, wishing his friend could see how much he’s truly worth. The conversation dies down when you don’t respond, but just think about your boyfriend and how amazing he is. It upsets you to see his self-esteem so low. 

Your mind shifts back to when you were getting ready, and how Remus touched you, how he kissed you. You feel your skin heat up and your insides churn just thinking about it. You know it’s only a few nights to the full moon, and those nights, Remus gets sexually needy and rough. It’s something you love from him. He’s usually a softer lover, and you admire him for that, but sometimes you need something more stimulating. That need is rare for you and strangely correlates perfectly with his own

You squeeze your thighs together, trying to find some friction, but you are unsatisfied. You leave the kitchens and find Remus in the living room with his friends. He’s sat back in the couch, almost zoned out. You go to walk towards him with a simple innocent smile on your face, but you’re stopped when you feel a small hand grab your own. 

“Aunt Y/n!” You hear Harry call from behind you. You turn to him, giving him a big smile.

“Hi, Harry!” You exclaim. “Happy birthday!” “Thank you,” he says politely and hugs around your legs.

You chuckle and get an idea, a potentially dangerous idea. With your back towards Remus, you bend at your waist to lift Harry in your arms, but, as you hoped, your skirt rides up your hips, exposing just enough of your thong to Remus that you can feel his eyes burning into your back. You conceal your smirk with a big smile as you talk to Harry, “Where’s your mommy, huh?” Your knuckles nip around his nose playfully as you hold him in your arms, balanced on your hip as you walk into the kitchen with him still in your arms. Sweetly, he lays his head against your shoulder, and almost immediately falls asleep. Lily coos at her son when he she’s you with him. 

“I don’t see how Remus isn’t dying to see you like this with his child,” she comments, kissing her sons head. 

“I may bring it up to him again soon,” you comment. “I want him to know I truly want a life with him. But I’ll wait until a week or so after this full moon. I don’t want to aggravate him.”

Meanwhile, back in the living room, Remus looks over at Sirius once you’ve gone out of sight and ear-shot. “Fucking, damn-it,” he swears, unintentionally getting all of his friends attention. He blushes, trying to act like he didn’t just say that in a most aggravated tone.

“What is it?” James asks his friend, his eyebrow raised.

“I, uh —“ he starts, but is cut off.

“Can I tell them?” Sirius tries to, but fails to whisper to Remus. “Please?”

“Tell us what?”

“We’ll there’s no point hiding it now,” Remus sighs, giving Sirius at death glare. “You’ve gone and told them somethings up.”

“Great!” Sirius turns back to James and Peter. “He’s taking the jump.”

After a moment of confused silence, and Remus rolling his eyes, Peter speaks up. “The what?”

“The jump: he’s going to ask her!” Sirius explains, giddily happy. 

“Finally!” James exclaims.

Remus blushes deeply, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s no point not to. She’s everything to me… and she’s proved time and time again that I’m everything to her. She’s the only person to ever have made me feel normal, worthy of love.”

James and Sirius start high-fiving excitedly. 

“I mean, I already knew at this point that starting a family would be a part of this, but Merlin, seeing her with Harry like that just makes my heart want to explode.” Remus pulls a pillow off the couch and into his lap. “It’s turning me on, you know?..” He says under his breath. “Plus, I think she’s teasing me.”

“I’ve got this!” James says and stands up.

Sirius and Remus both grab his wrists, making him sit back down. 

“Don’t you dare—“ Remus starts, but it’s too late. James sets his plan into motion.

“Harry!” James calls from the living room, giving Remus a wink.

Harry’s head shoots up off your shoulder at the sound of his father calling his name. 

“We’ll see,” you smile to Lily, ending your conversation and turning out of the kitchen with Harry still in your arms. By the time you’ve reached the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, he’s wiggling so much that it’s difficult for you to keep hold of him. Again, you bend at the waist and place his little feet on the ground. Your blouse falling slightly and exposing your cleavage as you had  secretly hoped. You stand up again, and watch Harry run over to his father and jump into his lap. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Remus push a pillow down onto his lap and cross his legs. You smirk to yourself and look at him, his eyes boring you a hungry look, and you decide that you have to use the bathroom, meaning you’d walk right by him. You walk across the living room, tucking a stand of hair behind your ear as you head to the bathroom in the next hall, passing the end of the couch that Remus is seated on. When you get close enough to him, he reaches over the arm of the couch and grabs your waist, the side opposite him. He spins you and pulls you so you’re sitting in his lap, and he slyly removes the pillow, making you land right on his cock. You squeal slightly on your way down, and when you feel his hot breath against your ear for the second time tonight, you can’t help but squirm in his lap, “accidentally” creating friction between the two of you. 

Remus’ hands grab your hips and hold them still, holding you down against him.

“You feel that, babygirl?” He asks in a hushed voice so only you can hear him as he pushes his hips up from the couch, his hard member pressing into you. “You got me all hot and bothered in front of all of our friends. You’re going to have to fix it for me.” He nuzzles his nose into your hair, breathing hot on your neck, and you let out a whiney moan at his words. “I would take you in the bathroom now, but with what I’ll have to do to you, there won’t be enough space in the there.” His lips graze your neck, and he unexpectedly flattens his tongue against your skin, leaving it feeling like it’s boiling. He hums at the taste of your sweat. “And I want to be the only one to hear you screaming my name. You are mine, after all.” He leaves an open mouthed kiss on your shoulder, his tongue grazing the spot at he kisses it. “So, go get your purse. We’re leaving.” His teeth nip at your ear and he pinches your butt under your skirt as he pushes you off of him. 

For a moment, you don’t move, too stunned to do anything, but to your dismay, and Remus’ impatience, his hand flattens against your lower back as he leans forward in his seat, pushing you in the direction of the kitchen. On your way stumbling into the kitchen to find your purse and say goodbye to your friends, you look over your shoulder back at the man you love. He leans closer still to his friends, saying something inaudible to you that makes them all smirk and chuckle. Blushing, you scurry over to your purse. 

“Got her,” Remus smirks from the living room to his friends.

“I honestly didn’t know you had that in you, Moony,” James laughs.

“She does things to me.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” You hear Lily from behind you.

You turn to her, your purse in hand, and you pull her into a goodbye hug. “Remus wants us to go home,” you almost whisper. 

She grabs your shoulders and pulls away from you, holding you in front of her. “Is it what I think it is?”

You smirk and look over her shoulder into the living room.

She pulls you into one more hug. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she tells you when she pulls away again. “Or anything James would do!”

Once Remus lays his eyes on you again after you’ve stepped back into the living room, he quickly stands, waiting for you as you walk over to him, and he takes your hand, pulling you away without any word to anyone.

“Bye, boys!” You call over your shoulder as your frustrated boyfriend pulls you out the front door. Your feet barely hit the garden when you’re lurching through space again, Remus disapperating from Godric’s Hollow with you on his arm. You feet hit the ground in the front garden of the home you and Remus share, and you’re instantly stumbling as he’s pulling you up the front step and into the house. He slams the door behind himself once you’ve both entered the house, locking it with a swish of his hand, as his other grabs your lower back and pulls you against him as he growls down at you with a matching look of hunger in his darkened irises.

You feel that he’s harder than he was just a moment ago when you were sat in his lap, and you could swear that you had long since soaked through your panties. 

His hand not holding your back grabs your face as he pulls your lips to his in a harsh, passionate kiss. The hand that was on your back sliding down to just under your butt as he lifts you up. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist to help him support you, and your skirt bunches up to your waist, your thong pressing against his leather belt. 

He walks forward, pushing your back against the door as his lips move from your lips to your neck, sucking and biting, effectively marking you as his own with the dark bruises he leaves behind.

You whine his name breathlessly at the feeling of his teeth, tongue, and lips all grazing and working at your neck. In hearing your name, Remus growls against your soft skin, biting down on it as he replaces your feet on the ground then pulls away, much to your displeasure. He walks backwards towards the couch, dragging you along with him by your hands. He sits down on the comfortable couch, his hands leaving yours and sliding down your sides and back towards your butt. As his hand rests on the top of your ass, he grabs the zipper of your skirt, pulling it down excruciatingly slow, but once he zipper is over the curve of your plump butt, he quickly employs the new margin of space available and shoves the skirt down your legs, letting it fall to the ground silently. Hastily, Remus’s hands grab at the back of your things, pulling them down and over to the sides of his own, making you straddle his lap. As he reconnects his lips to your own, one hand grabbing at the back of your blouse, the other cradling your face, you moan. You revel in the feeling of his plush lips for the first time this evening, being less caught up in passion where you can’t think, yet your senses are still crowded with longing. They work effortlessly against your mouth, his tongue pushing past your lips and exploring the area same as he would if he had never kissed you before, brushing over your lips, against your teeth, the inside of your cheeks, and the roof of your mouth before finally pressing his tongue down on yours, which had been begging his silently. As you two mix your mouths, you moan at the taste of him, the remainder of the one drink he had intoxicating you as if you were the one who had drank it.

You grind your hips down onto his jean-clad crotch, the denim rubbing perfectly through your soaked thong and against your aching core, a whine escaping your throat and into his mouth. Your hands slide under his sweater, then under his dress shirt, feeling his hard muscles under his warm, tan skin, littered with soft hills from scratches and wounds of the many previous full moons he’s had to endure. 

Remus leans back, detaching his lips from yours for a moment only long enough to remove the red sweater before fervently reattaching himself. His hands hold you still against him, one keeping your hips down on his own, the other holding loosely tangled in your hair. He could leave his hand in your hair for an eternity, sexual or not. He loves playing with it, twirling it between his fingers when you lay your head in his lap on the couch while he reads; he knows you love head and back massages at night and how they put you to sleep in a mere minute. Your hair is soft and silky, easy to run his hands through without getting caught on any knots or tangles. He also know how much you love it when he grabs your hair by it’s roots, tugging enough for tension but not pain, or when he puts it into a make-shift pony tail when you’re going down on him. 

Your soft lips leave the warmth of his mouth, pulling them away and down over his jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses. Your tongue brushes over his scruffy face with every kiss, tasting the salty sweat that has begun to seep from his pores the more you touch him. Trailing your lips down his neck, sucking soft marks into it, biting on his collar bone or shoulder as you pass it, your hands nimbly work at the buttons on his shirt, shaking from the excitement running through you, the continuous passion you hold for your boyfriend. Your mouth follows the buttons as the come undone down his chest, adjusting your position in his lap and on the couch to keep moving a few inches with each new free button as you kiss, lick, and suck at his supple skin.

When your tongue licks at the top of his faint happy trail, feeling his grip on you tighten, you kiss back up his chest, pushing the shirt to the sides to reveal his tones abs and pecks. Remus isn’t super muscular, he isn’t burly by any means, but he’s toned and has just enough muscles to look strong and soft at the same time. You run your fingers through the short chest hair that lightly strews across his chest as you kiss each of his scars, following them until they stop or disappear behind him. His scars are a story, they show how strong of a man he is, the man you love more than anything. His story has become your story, one you’ve loved since the beginning. 

You reach back up to his neck with your lips, kiss and continue to mark up the length of it as you return your mouth to his. You lean in just enough to feel your lips brush together softly, but you pull back when Remus tries to connect them. You smirk as you place a single, hot kiss to his lips before getting off his lap completely, sitting on your heals, your body supported by your knees on the floor in front of him. You start you lips back at the top of his happy trail again, and he pushes his hips forward, leaning back farther into the couch for both of you to be more comfortable in the coming activity. Your mouth trails down to his waistline as your hands run up and down his thighs slowly. When you reach the line of his jeans against his waist, your hands slide up, slowly, towards his belt, squeezing his painfully hard erection through his clothes as you pass. Once the buckle is free, you pull back completely, sitting back and looking up at him with your innocent doe eyes as you pull the leather from the denim loops. Your hands find the button on his jeans, quickly popping it open and then carefully attaching to the zipper as you pull it down.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of his trousers and pull down, he lifts his butt from the couch cushion enough for you to slide the fabric over his butt. You only pull to to just past his upper thighs, leaning his legs covered but giving you comfortable access to his treasure. Your soft hands rub back up his legs and over the material of his boxer briefs, finding his length and giving it a firm squeeze at the base, skidding your hand back and forth just and inch or so as you kiss at the damp spot over the tip of his cock. You slowly wipe your tongue on the spot, giving him an unsatisfying amount of friction.

His hand in your hair yanks your head back with a delectable amount of force, lifting your mouth off of him and forcing you to look up at his as you moan from the tension. He leans forward in his seat, bending low enough for his lips to be by your ear, his hot breath fading over it as he speaks. “You don’t want to tease me anymore tonight, love,” he informs you. “I had already been planning on you not being able to walk for the rest of the week.” He pauses and licks a stripe up your neck before continuing. “But now you’ve got a whole other punishment coming your way.” His hand leaves your hair for just a moment as he cups your cheek softly, leaning back a bit and pulling himself from his underwear. Once his aching cock is free, his hand on your cheek slides back into your hair, forcing you down so your mouth is next to his radiating member before sitting back into the couch completely.

Obeying, your small hands wrap around his cock, and you lick a long, wet stripe up the thick, pulsing vain on the underside. The feeling of it throbbing against your tongue, and the taste of his pre-cum when you reach his tip is almost enough to make you cum there, without being touched. You moan against him, still teasing him, still driving him mad.

His hair in your hair pulls you up only slightly as his other hand grabs and slacks your jaw, forcing you to take his delicious cock into his mouth. “Stop,” he says sternly as he thrusts up into your mouth. “Teasing,” he thrusts again, making you gag as he hits the back of your throat, unprepared. His hand in your hair loosens and his other leaves your jaw, letting you recompose yourself before further coaxing you. “Come on, Princess,” he hums softly, pushing stray hairs out of your face. “Let me see you take my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours. I know you want to, I know your desperate for it. Take my cock in your mouth, and you’ll get it nice and rough later.”

You whine at his words, quickly wrapping one hand around the base of his cock, spitting over it before lowing your mouth onto him, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks as you rejoice in the feeling of his cock filling your mouth. You hum against him, pleased to be providing him with pleasure. 

Remus starts grunting in time with your head and thrust up shallowly to the same rhythm. His hand drops from your hair when he thinks your ready, and they both grab the sides of your face as he fully fucks up into your mouth. Your hands flatten against his thighs, bracing yourself as you take him down your throat.

He’s grunting and groaning and praising your mouth until you feel him twitch in the back of your throat, before he roughly pulls your mouth off of him. He stands up quickly, shoving his pants the rest of the way down and taking his socks and shoes off with them, leaving them there as he pulls you up, kissing you once passionately, both of you moaning into the kiss.

His hand wraps around your wrist and he pulls you farther into your home and to your bedroom. He pushes you down on the edge of the bed before climbing on, straddling your legs with his knees on either side of your thighs as his hands wrap under your arms and pull you up higher on the bed so that your head rests in the pillows.

Remus’s calloused hands slide under the fabric of your top, pushing it up before grabbing the hem and forcing it over your head. He throws the shirt to the floor somewhere on the room, somewhere neither of you cared about right now. His mouth works down your neck, leaving more marks as he crosses over and down your chest, licking at the top of your breasts above your bra before biting harshly in the same spot. You moan out, loving the feeling of his teeth against you. His nibble hands slide under your arched back, making quick work of your bra as he snaps the band and releases the clasp. That is discarded in an equally irrelevant place as your shirt. As soon as your breasts are free, he leans in, sucking one of your nipples into your mouth harshly, letting his teeth graze over it and bit down ever-so slightly as his other hand cups your opposite mound, rolling and pulling that nipple through his fingers making you moan out his name.

His lips and hand switch sides for an equal moment before they continue down the valley of your chest and your soft stomach, leaving more marks still as he makes his way to your panty-line at an agonizingly slow pace. His fingers grip into the flesh on your sides as he sucks and licks his mark onto your tummy. You’re left trying to string word together to make a sentence, but it’s all incoherent as it just comes out as breathless pants. 

You’re able to build your voice back when he just follows your panty-line across your tummy, avoiding the steaming apex of your legs that’s screaming for his attention. “Rem-“ you barely manage, and his lips slow against you as he looks up at you from almost between your legs. “Plea—“ but you can’t finish as you gasp out a breath when you feel his lips switch to your thighs. 

“What was that?” he smirks into your leg?

“Ple—“ you try again, only for him to bite into the soft skin of your thigh.

“I need to hear the full word, babygirl,” he says, pulling away from one thigh and moving to the other.

“Please!” You force out, not letting him cut you off with his actions again.

At that, his mouth leave your thighs as he sits up, leaning over you enough to kiss you passionately, and you wrap your hands into his hair. “Good girl,” he smirks against your lips before pulling back again, positioning his face between your thighs while he sits on his knees, leaning forward. Without a warning, he presses his tongue over the wet fabric covering your mound. Me moans against you, feeling how you’ve soaked through your thong, and he can taste you. “Merlin, baby,” he hums into you, sucking you through your panties before pulling back. “You’re so wet, Y/n,” he teases as his fingers gently wrap under the waist line and begin to pull down your thong. “Who did that to you, hm?” He encourages you, throwing your thong off the bed before laying on his stomach between your legs, roughly gripping your thighs in his hands and pushing them up against your chest, giving him a beautiful view of your soaking cunt. He blows hot air over your sensitive core as he waits for you to answer.

“You, Remus! You made me that wet,” you plead for him. He happily obliges and dives in, licking his tongue up and down through your folds without warning. “Oh, fuck,” you curse out in a whine.

His tongue stills and flicks over your swollen clit several times as he rubs the tips of his fingers against your entrance, getting them ready for you. He stops licking as he begins to push his fingers into you slowly, his lips wrapping around your clit instead and sucking the bud into his mouth. His fingers only pushed in slowly until they reached a halt. He gives you zero adjustment time and starts pounding them in and out of your pussy, creating an obscene sound as the curl and twist within you.

You moan out at the sudden sensation, music to his ears as one hand finds this hair, wrapping into it and pulling. He moans into you at the tension you create and hearing your angelic voice do such sinful things. With your legs still pressed to your chest, you can barely reach the one hand into his hair, so the other reaches under your head, grabbing and pulling at the pillow.

He continues fucking his fingers into you at the fast pace, continuing to suck and lick your clit the same. You quickly become a moaning mess, and you’re almost embarrassed by the pornographic sounds you’re making. Your head turn to the side, and you bite into your arm to suppress the sounds. This doesn’t go unnoticed, and Remus pulls away from your center, his face slick with your arousal. His hand leaves the warmth of your walls, smacking down over your cunt and causing you to involuntarily jerk forward.

“Don’t be quiet,” he demands. “Let me hear you, darling. Let me hear the sounds only I can get from you, yeah?” He cocks an eyebrow at you and your mouth releases your arm, but as though he doesn’t trust you to cover it again, he pulls your hand from the pillow, and interlaces his fingers with yours as he dives back in, eating you like he hasn’t eaten in months.

He returns to your cunt at the same pace, but only picks up the speed from there, his fingers digging not you deeper, rougher as he pushes you towards the rapidly approaching edge. He knows your dangerously close, and he pulls the high from you as he moans into you, sending vibrations through you that tip you over the edge. You moan loudly, legs convulsing at the intense peak rushing through your muscles. He pulls your legs down over his shoulders so you’re more comfortable as he continues to work your cunt, you thinking he’s riding out your high. Only he doesn’t stop. He removes his fingers from your hole, but continues sucking on your clit. The sensitivity from the orgasm that just ripped through you puts you right back on the edge. Your hips start to buck and both your hands lace into his hair, gripping tight. The intensity of only being on the verge of your next orgasm has you crying in pleasure, your hands pushing against him as you try to move his face off of you.

Your hands quickly give up as he holds himself onto you, and when he starts shaking his head back and forth with his tongue pressed against you, your pushed over that second edge, your back contracting as your muscles force you to sit up, using his hair as an anchor. He moans into you as you pull his hair, and he slows down, carefully lapping up your juices before kissing back up your body to your lips. 

He gives you a chaste kiss before he flips you over, pushing your face down into the bed. His hands hook over your hips, grabbing around them and pulling them up so your ass is in the air on perfect display for him. His hands leave your hips once they’re where he wants them, wrapping them around your wrists and pulling them back behind your back before wrapping one of his large hands over them both to keep them there. His other hand reaches between your legs, spreading them apart so he can comfortably stand on his knees behind you. After your legs were in position, he used the hand not restraining your wrists to grip his cock, rubbing it up against your core, getting it slick and ready for you, but still not entering you.

You moan at the feeling of his throbbing length pressing against you, so close, but not close enough. Your moan, having been a subconscious technique to get him to continue, is not a suitable attempt for him. His hand leaves his cock, still pressed against you as he holds his hips against your own, then smacks down on your ass, wordlessly commanding you to beg for him.

“Remus,” you whine, pushing yourself back against him, and his hand comes down on the opposite cheek. Not good enough. “Please!” Another smack. Still not good enough. “Remus, please!” You try combining the two previous pleas, but he spanks you again, and you know he wants to hear you say it. You know he won’t give you what you both crave until he hears you say it. “Please, Remus! Please, fuck me,” you cry out as his hand comes back down on you, only this time for fun, to make sure both of your cheeks are equally reddened. As you’re whining his name again, his hand leaves your ass and grips himself at the base, pushing into you to the hilt in a quick thrust, no warning.

“Good girl,” he groans from above you as you moan out at the feeling of him so perfectly stretching you. He stills only long enough to get out the two words and move your hair over your shoulder, letting him see the side of your face and the top of your back and shoulders. You don’t have much time to adjust before he pulls out, almost completely, and starts thrusting forward into you again at an agonizingly slow pace. His palm runs over your red cheeks, soothing and kneeling the skin under his hand while still holding your arms behind your back.

The perfect friction, the prefect way he fills you up and reaches every crevice within your walls has you softly moaning for him, but you need more. You start to push your hips back into him, meeting his thrusts in his rhythm but trying to get him to speed up all the same. “Rem,” you moan. “Faster. Please.”

His one hand releases your wrists, the other holding your hips against his as he wraps the first around your throat, pulling you up against him until your back is pressed to his chest. “You want me to pound you, huh, baby?” He breaths hot on your ear, his hips thrusting roughly up into you and hitting your g-spot dead center, causing you to cry out his name. “You’re so needy for my cock?” His teeth graze the shell of your ear as he thrusts again, another cry escaping your lips.

“Yes!” You call out to him. “Please, Remus. I need you.”

You say what he wants, but his reaction if the opposite for you. He pulls away from and out of you completely, pushing you back down onto the bed forcefully, and you bounce a little once you hit the bed. He turns you over again, having you face up as he kneels between your legs again, grabbing them from behind your knee and putting them over his shoulders as he realigns himself effortlessly and continues to pound into you.

The pornographic sounds you make further strive the hungry beast inside him, and he reaches down for you, draping his hand back over your throat and squeezing once more. He continues to hit the bullseye in you repeatedly, almost as if he’s trained his whole life just to please you to such an extent. His thrusts are so precise that you barely registered the build up to your rapidly approaching third orgasm.

“Rem,” you draw out his name, warning him, and he understands.

“Do it, baby,” he commands, and you let go of the force pressing violently against your gut.

You scream his name, your voice hoarse and throat sore as you whine and gasp while you come down, Remus working you through it the whole time.

“Good girl,” he praises you, dropping your legs from his shoulders as his hand leaves your neck and slides up.  He cradles your cheek as he leans over you, kissing you passionately as his thrusts slow down. “You’re so beautiful, darling. Just absolutely perfect.”

Remus’ previous aggressive lust, turns into a loving lust, just wanting to be one with you, be a whole instead of two halves. There’s just as much passion as before, it’s just more apparent now without his hunger for you clouding it.

“Remmy,” you whine, too sensitive after three orgasms. You’re still soaking, but you can feel every ridge of his cock as he slides in and out of you. Remus lifts his head from where it was folded into the crook of your neck, looking deep in your eyes. “I can’t. It’s too much.” A tear falls from your eye and runs down your cheek, but he’s quick to catch it, kissing the wet spot it left and then your lips so softly you barely feel it.

“Help me finish, baby. I’m close,” he encourages you to hold on just a few moments more. “You can do it, Princess. You’re being such a good girl for me.”

You nod your head as you look up into his darkened, but soft, eyes. The way his mouth hangs open and his eyebrows furrow together, you can tell he is close. You moan his name as you pull his lips into another love-filled kiss, wrapping your legs tighter around his hips and your arms over his shoulders, pulling him deeper into you. You break from the kiss panting. “Cum in me,” you plea so softly you can barely hear it.

Remus’ hearing is strong enough to pick it up, and his rhythm falters for half a moment. “Really?” He asks, how close he is painfully evident on his face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

His carnal need resurfaces, hitting into you harder, and you cry out every time. “You want me to cum in you, huh?” He growls into your ear, but he’s so close it breaks into a groan. “You want me to fill you with my cum, baby?”

You nod vigorously, not being able to form any words with the intense feeling burning in your core. He captures you lips in a kiss as he stills, buried deep inside your cunt and coating your inner walls with his hot ropes, his hips involuntarily jerking as he does. You’re sensitiveness, his words, and the feeling of him and his cum filling you to the brim push you over the fourth edge, and you crying out as your body convulses under him so much you would’ve folded in on yourself if his body weight wasn’t keeping you flat on the mattress.

He collapses on top of you as both your bodies give their last few tremors, both of you panting and sweaty, hair sticking to your faces. His arm extends towards the side table, looking for his wand. “Fuck,” he mutters, and you hum in question to his exclamation. “Our wands are still in the living room,” he kisses you softly, but with so much love. “You know, with our clothes.”

You giggle against his lips before he pushes himself off of you and goes into the ensuite to grab you a washcloth. Your affectionate urge to always be around him awakens and sends you to the bathroom, but when you stand from the bed, pain shoots down your sore legs and your knees give out. You’re left to gravity to fall to the floor with a small squeal and a soft thud.

The door to the bathroom quickly opens as he looks for the cause of the sudden noise, finding you on the floor in front of him. “What do you think you’re doing?” He chuckles.

“Following you,” you blush and look down at the carpet. You’ve always tried to subside your natural clinginess in fear that it will annoy Remus.

You heel hands wrapping under your arms and you’re hoisted off the floor. “You’re my lost puppy, aren’t you?” He teases, making you giggle. A sound he could listen to on repeat for the rest of his life, a sound he’s never planning on losing. He puts you down so your weak legs hand off the edge of the bed. “Would you wait here just a moment please, love?” He says, adoration filling his voice. He steps back into the bathroom and comes back with two washcloths, a warm on and a cold on. He uses the cold one first, wiping the sweat and left over make up off your face. A moment later you take the rag from him so you can wipe his sweaty forehead, too, but you gasp and whine in surprise as the warm cloth rubs between your legs. “I’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes and kisses you sweetly. You run your hands over his head, flattening his hair down as you kiss him back, never wanting to stop, and he finished cleaning the mess he had made of the two of you. “I’m going to take these and the other clothes to the laundry real quick, love,” he tells you before kissing your head and leaving the room.

You build all of your strength to get up and go to the closet in search of clean underwear for you both, stopping dead in your tracks when a poorly hidden velvet box in his drawer peaks at you from between the socks. You pick is up carefully and open the box, a ring perfect for you sat in the fold. You cup your hand over your mouth to hide any noise you might make, but your heart is in your throat as it bursts with love, and you couldn’t make a sound if you tried.

“Shit,” Remus curses behind you, having come back into the room silently. He rushes over to you and moves to take the box from your hands, but his hands stop, resting over yours as he looks at you staring at the ring, mesmerized. “You weren’t supposed to see that, yet,” he says and laughs softly, nervous of your reaction because your face is so blank, he can’t get a clue. 

“Then… I’ll just pretend I didn’t,” you give him a small smile, but one that shows him your whole heart. You pull your hands back from his, leaving him to hold the box as you slip on your fresh panties and climb back into the bed. He looks to you, surprised you’re not questioning it, but your sat in the center of the bed with your arms held out to him and a goofy pout placed on your lips as your hands grab at the air.

He sighs happily, places the velvet box unhidden in his closet, and pulls on fresh boxers before climbing into your arms. Your fingers slide into his hair and scratch at his scalp as he lays his head on your belly.

After a moment of comfortable silence and his mind not settling, he lifts his head and looks up at you, seeing your eyes are closed. He calls your name softly. You hum, informing him you’re awake. Remus climbs further up the bed, laying on his side facing you to your left. His hand grazes your cheek as he pushes hair out of your face.

“I love you. I have never felt this much of one feeling before I met you. I’m so in love with you that it terrifies me, and I don’t know what to do. But you’ve changed me, you’ve made me a better man. I can’t imagine a future without you as my wife and with our kids running around. I never knew how to bring it up before,” he pauses a moment, trying to find the right words as he asks you the big question on a sudden limb. “I’ve just been to scared. I don’t know why, because you’ve never done anything but love and support me, and I couldn’t ask for better. I was with Sirius to find you the ring, and try to plan a romantic moment to ask you to marry me, I just didn’t want it to be so close to the full moon.”

You take a moment, considering everything he’s said and your chest swells with love and pride. “What about ‘James’?” You ask, being stuck on the one thing he said. When he pulls away from you completely and sits up, you open your eyes, startled. He’s looking at you with all the confusion in the world. “Oh my god!” You gasp. “That came out so wrong. I meant as a name! Merlin, the things you do to me — beyond amazing — exhaust me. I can’t speak correctly.” You let out a breathy laugh as you look for his reaction, a smile growing onto his face.

“You mean, like, a baby name?” He asks you.

You nod at him, smiling, and his shoulders relax as he lays next to you again.

“No, no,” he says after a moment. “I don’t want the product of my love for you to constantly remind me of my idiot best friend.”

“Okay, so ‘Sirius’ is also off the table,” you giggle.

“What about our parents names?” Remus asks as he turn to you, pulling you into him as his little spoon. 

“So the product reminds us of our parents?”

He laughs at your rebuttal, and you smile. “Good point.” He presses his lips to your temple. “I guess we have time to figure it out.” He sighs in contempt as he buries his face in the back of your neck.

“For now,” you agree.

“So that’s a yes?” He picks his head up quickly to ask. “You’ll marry me?”

You turn in his arms, facing him and grabbing both his cheeks in your hands, purposely squishing his face a little. “Of course, you big oaf,” you laugh and kiss the love of your life.

[inmyownlaine]

Hi,love your writing and was wondering if I could request a John Murphy fluff/angst based on season 2or3 where the reader and him get in an argument about him ‘being with Emori’ but he likes the reader?

John Murphy x Reader: Promises

*Absolutely! Thank you for the suggestion. Also, let's just act like I haven't been MIA for literal months :)

GIF//

Warnings: None to my knowledge!

Word Count: 2078

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“Don’t go,” you begged, grabbing Murphy’s hand as it swung carelessly behind him. When your fingers touched his skin, Murphy stopped immediately. He inhaled heavily through his nose, trying to control the sadness and desire that you sent rippling through his body.

“Murphy, please,” you whimpered.

Murphy’s shoulder dropped as he let the single strap of his backpack slide down his arm. Your eyes lit up, hoping that was a positive sign. Hoping that you were enough to make him stay.

“I can’t.”

“You can,” you said assertively. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he replied, apologetic eyes looking at you between half-closed eyelids. He was right. You didn’t understand. He had nothing to apologize for. He didn’t have to prove himself to you. Or ask for your forgiveness. None of the things that his blue eyes seemed to convey.

“You don’t need redemption.”

“But if I go now, maybe when I come back-”

“What?” you interrupted. “Everything will suddenly be different?”

“Is it so wrong to want that?” he questioned softly, a shaky sigh leaving his body. You tightened your grip, white knuckles against red calloused ones. Just another casualty of his bad temper.

“Of course not. But you’re not going to fix anything by leaving. You need to stay. Stay and show them who you can be. Don’t leave and prove them right.”

Murphy dropped his head, fixated on your two hands intertwined. There was a lot more going on than the surface discussion. You danced around being in love by using double meanings and knowing glances. This wasn’t about him leaving to find himself. It was about him leaving you.

Glassy eyes meet together in a flurry of uncertainty and passion. The pit of your stomach churned as Murphy leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. They barely touched before he pulled away, eyes closed. It was a kiss that you never wanted to experience, especially being your first.

You knew he was leaving.

“Don’t cry,” he told you, hearing a sniffle escape. His eyes still rested, he quietly spoke, “I will be back. I promise. I have something to come back to.”

“Murphy, I-”

“I promise.” He now faced the reality of the situation, confronting his fears head on as he stared into your bloodshot eyes. There was no way he would ever be the cause of this again. He just needed one chance to make you proud. To clear his name.

“I promise.”

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The taste of dirt and sweat caused you to gag as you were manhandled into the unknown. You had no idea why you were the target of a kidnapping. If anything, you laid low and kept to yourself. Regardless, you followed the directions given to you, fearing what would become of your life if you didn’t.

“I’ve brought you some company!” the voice behind you bellowed. You jumped at the sudden noise, interested in the way he practically sang the announcement.

“Who?” another voice asked, seeming alert and slightly panicked. You knew this voice anywhere and it quickly became clear why you were here. Even still, you obeyed the commands given. If you spoke a word, made any noise, it would be the end of your life.

“Worried, are we?” The man started to laugh heartily as you continued to walk. Every thundering step matched the beating of your heart. What would happen when you finally stopped?

There was no response, so the man began to speak. “Someone who wouldn’t shut up about you. Scared for you. Desperate to see you.”

As if being captured weren’t enough, this was just plain humiliating. He didn’t have to recount all the times you pined after Murphy while he was gone. You lost track of the months it had been since you last saw him. This was not how you wanted to reunite.

“Who. Is. It?” Murphy asked yet again. It was dark and menacing. A resemblance of a person that he used to be. You knew that would always be a part of him. Especially when it involved people that he cared about.

“A girlfriend?” the man guessed. You cringed hearing that word, tormenting and taunting you of what never was. But how Murphy replied was even more heartbreaking.

“Emori?” The man began to cackle once more as Murphy cursed and threatened his life. It was terrible to hear the intensity of his love. How much he cared for someone else while you turned others down, waiting for him.

The man gave you one last shove, causing you to fall to your knees. Through minute gaps in the woven sack over your head, you finally caught an amber hue of light. You groaned in pain, trying your best to stay upright with your hands tied behind your back.

There was a brief moment of silence before another outburst broke out. This time, you heard the scuffling of feet against the floor. Fabric harshly rubbed against a scratchy surface. It sounded like an attempt to escape.

“Let her go!” Murphy yelled.

“Why would I do that? I have everything I need, now. Except for the information.”

“Just let her go and I’ll tell you, okay? I’ll tell you everything,” Murphy frantically said.

“But I’m having so much fun. Maybe just one...little…” A cold blade touched your neck, causing a shriek to escape your throat. He put an ounce of pressure against your rapidly thumping artery.

“I swear to God if you hurt her I will kill you!” Murphy’s voice was full of anguish as it broke here and there. It was a frequency in which you had never heard from him. It was harrowing to witness.

The knife was removed from your neck. In a series of exchanges, Murphy gave him the answer to every single question he asked. When the interrogation was over, you were picked up and moved to a new area. Here, you were tied once more around my stomach.

Then, without warning, the bag was removed from your head. You could barely take in my surroundings before Murphy called your name. Tears fell from your eyes as you saw, for the first time in months, John Murphy. Though you had to admit, he looked worse for wear.

“Murphy,” you cried back, wanting more than anything to be able to touch him. To hug him. To take in his scent. You had been without this man for way too long.

“That’s sweet,” the man, who you could now identify as Titus, interrupted. “But I’ve got what I wanted. For now.” And with that, he turned on his heel and exited the room, leaving you and Murphy alone.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” Murphy asked immediately.

“I’m fine,” you replied. “But you don’t look good at all.”

“Yeah, well, being tortured does that to a person.”

“He tortured you?” you questioned, breath leaving your body. Picturing someone hurting Murphy made you sick.

“A few times,” he shrugged.

You wanted to be happy. You wanted to ask him about his trip. You wanted to know if he discovered himself. If he found who he truly was. But you couldn’t get past the fact that he said another girl’s name.

You never claimed to be anything more than friends, but you thought it went without saying. A person doesn’t just kiss someone before they leave. Or promise that they would come back to you.

“I hate that I have to see you like this,” Murphy finally said, breaking the silence. “I always imagined coming back to camp with Jaha’s group. We just saved the human race, or something like that. But it didn’t matter, because I was looking for you.”

“Not Emori?” you mumbled, mustering up the courage to be so bold. Murphy’s eyes grew wide as he avoided your haunting gaze.

“Look, it wasn’t supposed to- she just- we were,” he tried to explain, slumping over in the process.

“I waited for you. Every day,” you admitted. “The last thing I did before I went to bed was look out the gate for you. Every morning I woke up with the hope that it would be the day you came back to me.”

You started to sob, recounting the loneliness that you felt. And the fear of not knowing Murphy’s fate. Were you holding out for someone who was dead? Was it hopeless to wish that he would keep his promise?

“I turned people down. I kept faith in you. I told everyone how proud I was. And then to know that you weren’t keeping me with you at all. I wasn’t even a passing thought.”

“It’s not like that,” Murphy said.

“But it is. She’s your girlfriend.”

“I don’t- love her,” he said softly, swallowing hard enough to make his entire throat bob up and down.

“Then what?” You were at the tipping point with Murphy. Exasperated with his short answers and frustrated with the secrets he was holding. If he wouldn’t be honest with you now, there was no way you would ever be with him in the future.

“I’ve been through a lot. More than I expected.” He stared into the distance, seemingly void of emotion. It was like he was lost, trying hard to remember something that he pushed away. “I was trapped. By myself. 86 days. You know how I spent that time?”

You shook your head in response. He was still burning holes in the wall, but somehow knew that you replied. He smirked slightly before saying, “I thought about you. And how good it would feel to see you once I was out. Granted, I went absolutely crazy in there, but you kept me as sane as I could be.”

You couldn’t help but to chuckle at this. “I can’t imagine you any more psychotic than you are now.”

“Is that so?” he bantered, catching you out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re a freak,” you teased.

“Why? Because I’ve killed a few people?”

“Yeah, that probably contributes.” The two of you shared a smile, falling back into old patterns. You missed having a person that you could shamelessly be yourself around. The quick wit and sly comments were always absorbed and thrown back by Murphy. No one else stood a chance against you.

“When he said he had someone,” Murphy carried on, “you’re the first person I thought of. But it seemed impossible until I saw you. I don’t know what came over me. I- I was blind with rage. I tried to fight my way out. Because if he hurt you-”

Murphy couldn’t bear to finish the sentence. You didn’t need him to. You knew what was left to say. You heard the distinct difference, the silence that fell, when he realized you were the captured person and not Emori.

“I know that doesn’t make any of this right, but I just wanted that feeling of safety that you gave me. And Emori was there. I misplaced it. And I’m sorry,” Murphy apologized.

“What about Emori, then?” you pressed.

“She’s a good person, and she will understand. I just couldn’t live with myself if I left you again.”

“You mean that?” Murphy simply nodded, outstretching his fingers in your direction. Even though you couldn’t hold hands, the sentiment remained as you reflected his actions. You were two people trying to make your own light in the darkest of situations.

“I love you,” you managed to choke out, taking in the dried blood on his hairline and the bruises on his skin. His pant leg was ripped at the cuff and his hands were caked in dirt. You needed him to know that no matter what happened, now and forever, that he could carry this with him. Even after death, if fate so decided.

“I love you, too,” he said, without hesitation or a second thought. It was something he wished he had told you the night he decided to leave. The only thing he regretted once he left the compound.

But he had the chance to fix all of that. And in that moment, he swore that once you escaped, he would always be there to protect you. He would always console you and your wondering thoughts. He would love you the way that he should have a long time ago.

He promised he would always find a way to come back to you.

He promised he would never leave.

He promised.

**Hey, it's Lainey. Slightly embarrassing but I am back from the grave! I hope you all enjoy this and still love Murphy as much as I do <3

[dontcare77ghj]

Siren

Steve x reader x Thor x Bucky

These humans had kept you captive for months, perhaps even longer, as you had no semblance of time in this prison.

You were born a siren. Raised with a pod of your own kind until these humans had taken you.

You had been stupid to rise to the surface that you now knew. The elders had always warned you against going near the above world because of the human world. The elders never elaborated beyond it was dangerous.

But you were young, and you thought you knew better.

So you had risen. You had dragged yourself up onto a rock and stared at the clear blue sky above you. The stone was warm. Sun was beaming down onto your skin, and for the first time in your life, you watched as your tail split into a pair of legs.

And for those few blissful moments, you felt at peace.

Until the elders surfaced and were glaring at you in full fury.

They had screamed and screeched at you to return to the water or be banished from the pod. You had begged to know why you couldn't be here, why it was dangerous above water.

You never got your answer as you eventually sunk back into the water and felt your legs shift back.

Just as you were all about to submerge and return to the pod, a burning pain entered your shoulder.

An unearthly scream had left you as you gazed at the hook embedded in your shoulder. As you were being forcibly dragged backward, you watched as the elders submerged and left you.

You had been bound, collared, and forced into a tank where you now spent your miserable days.

These humans had known about your kind for decades and were only waiting for one of you to be stupid enough to rise so they could capture them.

Whoever your capturers were, they were experts in their field. They had captured many enhanced people and creatures, as they called you, that were not supposed to exist.

They experimented on you. Every day of your life here was torture, and you felt hopeless. You were trapped in a tank and collared with something that meant you couldn't use your powers against them, and your tail chained to the bottom of the tank.

The only comfort you had was the fact your soulmate was still out there.

Injuries that were not your own continued to appear on your body, and every time you saw one, a flicker of hope began to build.

They were still out there.

Everyone had a soulmate in the world, and the way you could identify them was by your matching injuries.

But not all injuries transferred to one another. Most were more of a phantom pain that you would share, but bigger injuries, larger bouts of pain, were shared.

"Your lip is split." A man in the cell beside you said. "Is it your soulmate?"

"They're always injured." You nodded, gently touching the cut that didn't hurt.

"Look who's talking." Loki snorted. "How long ago was it, darling, that they were cutting you to test how fast you healed?"

"Not long enough." You grimaced.

Loki was the only one in this hell hole you could talk to. There were only three other prisoners left here now. There was a girl who could project nightmares out into the real world, the collar stopped her from projecting, but she was trapped in her own. There was a man who could turn into solid rock but never spoke. And a young boy whose powers you didn't know, but he sat there mumbling prayers to himself all day and night.

A loud clang interrupted the two of you. Your head snapped to the doors to see two guards and a doctor enter the room.

"It'll have to be this one." The doctor said, gesturing to the cell on your other side. "So even if they risk facing the electricity, the bars will be too strong to break." He told the guards. "When we've finished our tests, you'll bring them back here."

"Yes, sir." The guards both nodded and with that, the three left the room.

"Looks like we're going to get some new roommates." Loki shrugged. "And I have no welcoming gift for them, shame."

You weren't sure how much time had passed when the doors open once more. You hadn't thought about your new prison mates since the guards left. Your mind had been too occupied by the pain you felt.

"Get your hands off him!" A blonde male yelled, struggling against the guards holding him.

"Oh, dear," Loki murmured.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Easy now!" A long brunette exclaimed as he and the blonde were thrown into the cell beside you. The brunette rushed to the cell door and held onto the bars. "Mother fucker!" He swore, yanking his hands away.

"All the cells are electrified." You informed them.

Both men's heads snapped towards you, and you watched as their eyes grew wide.

"You have a tail." The blonde said, staring down at your scaled appendage. "

"Forget the tail, Stevie, look. Her lip. Her shoulder." The brunette said, pointing to your scared shoulder. Your hand immediately flew up to cover the ugly scar.

Your eyes narrowed at the two, and before you could hiss something at them, you noticed something very peculiar.

The matching split lips the two sported.

"This can't be real." You muttered, watching the two closely. The blonde tugged his shirt down to reveal the same distinct scar on your shoulder.

"Soulmate." The two said.

"Soulmates." You repeated, confused.

"I guess this means you're also mated to my brother, darling," Loki said, breaking the moment.

Your soulmate's heads snapped to him.

"Loki?"

"How long have you been here?" Steve asked you as Bucky searched for weak parts of the cell.

"I'm not sure." You admitted. "We're not told how long we're here, and time is different from home."

"What is the date, Captain?" Loki asked, standing as close to the bars as he dared.

"October 17th, 2018," Steve told him.

"Y/N was here before I, and I've been here five months," Loki told them.

"How did they get you?" You questioned your soulmates.

"Caught us by surprise," Bucky said, moving to stand beside Steve. "We've been looking for this one since he disappeared." He told you, nodding his head in Loki's direction. "We found a lead and went to check it out. They were waiting for us."

"How did they catch you, Loki?" Steve asked, raising a brow. "And how have they kept you hidden for this long?"

"In all honesty, I don't know." Loki sighed. "I was exploring an occult shop the little witch recommended me, I leave, and the next thing I know, I am trapped in this disgusting excuse of a prison."

"What is the point of this place? They took our blood and some other things." Bucky told them.

"This is a testing facility." You said. "We're their experiments. This stops us from using any of our powers." You told them, tapping the collar that sat against your throat.

"I believe that this collar is why no-one can locate anyone in this facility," Loki added.

"How do we get them off?" Steve demanded as he tried to pull at his.

"You can't." You shook your head. "Only someone not wearing one can remove a collar."

"Shit," Bucky swore, running his fingers through his hair.

"It's fine, Buck. The team will find us. Thor will find us." Steve assured everyone. "We're getting out of here."

"I have been here five months, Captain." Loki shook his head. "Your promises do not inspire hope."

No-one had come. In however long since Steve had made his promise, no-one had come.

But this didn't surprise you. No-one ever came, except for the doctors and the guards.

They always came.

Since the arrival of your soulmates, the three of you had worked on strengthing your bond as best you could. The two told you stories about their lives and their third, your last soulmate, Loki's brother, Thor. In turn, you told them about your past and what you were.

"What do you miss most about your home?" Bucky asked out of the blue.

"The whales." You said with a fond smile. "They traveled all the oceans, and I'd always listen to their stories."

"Did your pod not travel much?" Steve wondered.

"No. The elders always said the pod belonged in one place. We weren't supposed to question them." You shrugged.

"Something tells me you didn't listen to that rule much." Bucky teased.

"There was no reasoning for their rules. No explanation. Who wants to live like that?" You smiled. "What's Thor like?" You asked your two soulmates.

"Kind," Steve said as Bucky said,

"Fantastic."

"He's always joyous," Steve told you. "Always ready for a laugh."

"Stands up for the little guy," Bucky mentioned. "He's going to love you, doll." "I hope so. My interactions with Norse Gods are pretty minimal." You said, looking over at a sleeping Loki.

"So was ours before. Trust us, you'll be more than fine." Steve smiled.

Before you could respond, the familiar sound of the doors being thrown open interrupted you. At the noise, Loki sat up, Steve and Bucky stood, and you watched as the guards made their way towards you.

You tensed when your cell door was thrust open, and three guards approached your tank.

"Watch it." One guard snapped at another who pulled your tank too roughly. "Perkins will kill you if you hurt her."

"What's he care? He's gonna cut her open anyway." A guard snapped, yanking the tank once more.

"Careful, you're gonna-" The guard started to yell, but it was too late. Your tank was jolted forward and smashed against the ground. As soon as you were no longer in a body of water, your legs began to shift.

And now you were laid on the floor, completely naked, clutching a bleeding cut on your cheek.

"Look what you've fucking done, Paul." The guard snapped, reaching down to grab you by the arm.

A loud yelp escaped you as the man yanked you to your unsteady feet and held you tightly against him.

"Get your hands off her!" Bucky shouted, kicking the bars of the cell.

"Ed, look." The third guard said, gesturing to the two men, the two men who had matching cuts to yours.

"Who woulda thought America's golden boy would be mates with a fish?" Ed laughed, dragging you forward. "You think Perkins knows about this?"

"Fuck no. You know, Perkins woulda already set up new experiments if he did." The third man shook his head.

"Maybe it's time he knew," Ed murmured. "D, you're with me," Ed said, opening Steve and Bucky's cell and throwing you in. A grunt left your mouth as you hit the floor before you were in Bucky's arms. "Paul, clean up this fucking mess. And get a new tank." He ordered.

"Shame Perkins won't let us play with the merchandise," Paul said, staring at you as the two other men rushed out. "You look good for a fish." He added as Steve and Bucky growled, and Bucky turned, shielding you from Paul's eyes.

"Here, doll," Steve said, pulling off his shirt and helping you into it as Paul left.

The long-sleeved blue material was soft and fell almost to your knees. In your pod, there had been no such thing as covering up or modesty. Everyone was bare from the torso up anyway, but if this shirt would hide you from the guards prying eyes, you would never be taking it off.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asked, pulling back slightly to look you over. "How much glass got you?" He questioned, checking your available skin.

"I'm fine." 

"Don't think we can't feel your pain." Bucky rose a brow.

"My feet hurt." You mumbled after a second.

"May I?" Steve asked, holding a hand near them. The blonde gently pulled your feet onto his lap once you nodded. "I can't tell if there's any glass in them, but they're both bleeding."

"It's okay. I'll heal." You promised him. "Hi." You smiled, looking at the two up close for the first time.

"Hi." Steve grinned, taking your hand.

"This is a pretty neat trick, doll," Bucky said, putting a hand on your knee. "They know about this?"

"Yes." You nodded. "They've already done their tests." You added with a grimace.

"We're going to take you away from here, Y/N," Steve promised you. "One way or another, we're getting out of here."

"Hope breeds eternal misery, Captain." Loki interrupted.

"When have you been one to lose hope, Loki?" Bucky asked his soulmate's brother.

"I have not lost hope, Sargent. I am merely trying to warn the woman from putting much stock in the belief of escape. Ask how many bodies she has seen dragged from this place." Loki said, causing you to look down.

Too many.

"We started this mission to find you, Loki. The team will find us, Thor will find us, and everyone in here is getting out." Steve firmly stated.

"I'm sorry, Captain, but it appears we'll have to disagree here."

After Loki's comment, it had gone silent, minus of course, the mumbled prayers of a boy.

The three of you had sat, huddled towards the back of the cell with you still sitting on Bucky's lap.

"I wouldn't go back to my pod." You said, playing with Bucky's fingers. "When we get out. I don't think they'd have me back anyway."

"Why's that, doll?"

"I didn't listen to the elders, and I never passed my rites of passage." You shrugged.

The rites of passage were a series of trials that a coming-of-age siren would complete to show their dedication to the pod. One of those trails was to drown a human.

And that, you couldn't bring yourself to do.

"You can come back with us," Steve told you. "The Tower has plenty of space for you to have a room of your own."

"Or you could share our room," Bucky suggested.

"Or you could share our room. Whatever you're comfortable with, doll." Steve promised.

"I might have to stay close to you three. Seems someones got to make sure you three don't get injured." You teased.

"Trust me, doll, that's all, Steve." Bucky quietly chuckled.

The doors crashed open for the second that day. The three guards from earlier reappeared, along with another three, with two doctors behind them.

"Congratulations on finding each other!" A doctor cheered as the cell door was pulled open, and guards pulled the three of you to a stand. "We've never had two soulmates here before! Let alone three!"

"Really, what a shame we're the first," Bucky muttered, glaring at the guards restraining you and Steve.

"I mean, who would have thought two super soldiers would be mated with a siren? There are so many questions, so many trials we must now have." The doctor rambled as the three of you were dragged from the room.

"Unfortunately for the three of you, these new trials and tests won't be pleasant." The other doctor informed you all as you stumbled on your unsure legs.

"Like anything that's done here is pleasant." Steve scoffed.

"But you know what they say, pain equals progress." The first doctor shrugged.

"Did anyone ever teach about gentle?" You snapped as the three of you were forced onto metal tables and strapped down.

"Or how to treat a lady?" Bucky asked before grunting as his collar shocked him. Both you and Steve made noises of discomfort.

"Small doses of pain can be felt through the bond!" The first doctor cheered as the other wrote it down.

"That was a small dose?" 

"We continue down the scale!"

"Who the fuck taught you what a scale was?" Bucky grunted what felt like days later. "Because that did not go up in a scale."

The two doctors had worked on the three of you for what must have been hours. Blood covered the three of you and dripped onto the floor as you all tried to catch your breath.

"I see your attitude was not affected by the tests." The second doctor scoffed as the first rapidly wrote down his notes.

"We only have one more test for the day." The first doctor said, nodding at the guards who began to set up for the next test.

"You have been alive as long as Sargent Barnes here, haven't you, Captain? Tell us, did you feel it when this happened?" Steve was asked as the doctor trailed his fingers over Bucky's arm.

"What,you're gonna cut our arms off now?" You asked, watching the doctors in a panic.

"Perhaps in time. But we have a much more pressing question for today." He said as a hose was pulled out. "I wonder what would happen to the Captain and Sargent if we cut your tail." He told you, and suddenly you were soaked.

Your legs shifted back, and your panic began to build.

"Wait, no, please, don't do this." You begged, attempting to wrench your body off the table.

"You've done enough testing! You don't need to do this!" Steve yelled.

"This is all in the name of progression." The first doctor said, ignoring your pleas as he sat at the end of the table, a tray of tools beside him.

"There is no progression in this!"

"Roberts begin recording." The doctor ordered. "Beginning test one, removing scales. As recorded before, scales are incredibly tough to remove by tweezers. So we will be cutting them out." He stated calmly before using a scalpel to expertly slice your scales.

A loud scream left you as your soulmates exclaimed loudly in anger and pain.

"Male subjects can feel female's pain even in this form!" The doctor grinned. "Proceeding onto next test!" He said, holding up what looked like the nose of a sawfish.

"If you fucking touch her again, I'll rip your head off!" Bucky yelled as your voice got caught in your throat.

Both doctors ignored Bucky's threats as they continued with their experiments.

Just as the sawfish-looking tool touched the base of your tail when the lights and machines of the room turned off.

"What happened?"

"Must be an electrical short." A guard said, causing Steve and Bucky to laugh as a loud, echoing boom reached your ears.

"Get out there." Roberts snapped to the guards, who immediately rushed outside.

"You're dead now." Bucky laughed. "Nothing's going to save you now." He said as the guards began to yell.

"Perkins," Roberts said, backing up. "I believe it's time to run."

"Run? Never! These are our experiments. No-one can take them from us!" Perkins scoffed before the door boomed open.

There stood a tall blond man. His blonde hair was long and slightly matted with blood, and electricity was dancing on his skin.

"You dare touch my soulmates!" He boomed, raising his hammer as his eyes glowed brightly.

Electricity filled the room, and soon, both doctors were unconscious on the ground.

"Steven. James." The man sighed, rushing over to the closest man.

"Thor." Bucky smiled as Thor began to rip the bonds holding him. "We have someone for you to meet."

"This is Y/N, our other soulmate." Steve smiled, tilting his head towards you. "Y/N, this is Thor."

"Hi." You smiled, teeth stained with blood. "I'm normally not this blood-stained, I swear."

"I believe that. It is wonderful to meet another soulmate, but perhaps introductions are best made once we are out of here." He said as he and Bucky ripped Steve's bonds, causing you and Steve to laugh.

"That's probably for the best." You nodded. The three men made their way over to you, and Bucky pulled the hose away from you, causing you to shift.

"Did you find Loki?" Steve asked the God.

"Aye. We found the prison first, and Loki told the three of you had been taken. He and the others are with the rest of the team." Thor told him as the two helped you to your feet.

You attempted to take a step, but you had never walked on your own before, and so, you began to collapse. You were caught by thick arms and pulled into a burly chest.

"Are you alright, darling?" Thor asked, looking you over in concern.

"I'm fine. Just not very steady." You said, your cheeks burning red.

"Allow me," Thor said, handing his hammer to Steve and pulling you into his arms.

"Thank you."

"Of course. Anything for one of my soulmates."

"Are you trying to give us grey hairs?" Bucky asked, bandaging a cut on Steve's cheek, a cut you all now had.

"I didn't mean to trip, you know, Buck?" Steve muttered, looking down.

It had been two years since you had met your soulmates. Two years since the three had freed you from your prison.

The four of you were on vacation right now. It was the first vacation the four of you had taken together and your first one altogether.

Tony had loaned you one of his many houses, this one by the ocean, much to your pleasure.

"How is him tripping giving you grey hairs, James?" Thor asked in amusement.

"I don't know. It just is."

"I'm pretty sure they have cures for grey hairs, Buck." You mentioned. "You could borrow Clint's hair dye if it really bothers you."

"I'm telling him you said that." Bucky laughed.

"I'll protect you from the archer, my darling," Thor said, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

"Good because I don't think Bucky wants to clean up any more injuries. And Clint's a bleeder." Steve said, causing the three of you to laugh.

God, what you would give for it to always be like this.

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