#maybe my therapist is right and i really do just have to. learn how to make games

[doom-dreaming]

how do i tell my mother that coming into my room calling me "lazybones" if i'm still in bed at any time past 7 a.m. for YEARS has done near-irreparable damage to my self-esteem and created shame about being able to just fucking relax?

[linabirb]

talked to my mom about education again. mentioned dropping out. felt sad. downloaded renpy.

[yongseungkim]

.

[tabootasaur]

...

[lunarsilver]

What awaits you in 2025?

REMEMBER

I’m not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a therapist nor a psychologist. Divination will never replace meetings with them.

It’s a general reading, so not everything will resonate.

If you can’t choose between two piles, probably both of them have some messages for you. You can also not identify with any of them, and that’s okay, too.

Readings can help you make a decision, but they shouldn’t be the main reason for making it.

1 ~ 2 ~ 3

4 ~ 5 ~ 6

PILE 1

What will this year teach you? 

Strength

The Major Arcana shining on your 2025 is Strength. That’s my favorite Tarot card if I’m being honest so I may be biased lol. You’ll learn this year you have way more strength than you thought you have - especially the psychological and mental one. This card is both about your inner strength and the way you are able to influence others. You’ll learn how to channel this power.

The main theme of each season for you

Winter: Summer (expansion, growth) - Spring: Leaves (renewal, revival, progress) - Summer: Bird (freedom, opportunity) - Fall: Moon (phases, cycles, intuition)

Funny that for the winter season we’ve got a card called Summer, huh? The first three months of this year you’ll find new ways to grow and work on it. This trend will continue in spring, though you’ll correct the course a bit, maybe come back to something (a hobby or a dream?) and realize that hey, you actually still like it. Summer is the time of vacations, so it only makes sense you’ll feel more freedom in your wings. An opportunity may come to you. Fall will be a more reflective season. Noticing patterns, being after some time again in a similar situation or place, getting more in tune with your intuition. 

Main blessings for you this year 

Longevity (Chrysanthemum) - Productivity (Kent pumpkin) - Hope (Daffodil)

Longevity suggests good health and a lot of energy. For some it may be even about curing a serious illness or surviving a dangerous situation, but obviously I won’t throw such statements lightly. With how we’ve already talked about your growth and nice opportunities during this year, it’s no brainer that you’ll be really productive and have a hopeful attitude.

The main challenge of this year

Ring - Moon - Sun

Commitment to the deep desire of being happy.

Okay, pile one, looks like your main challenge is literally being consistent lol. Literally the only person that can sabotage your huge growth this year is you yourself.

How will you grow? 

8 of Wands R - Justice R - The High Priestess 

After some time of frustration and slowing down, you’ll take full accountability for your actions and take your fate in your own hands. Thanks to this, you’ll be more in tune with your intuition and get more at peace with yourself.

A piece of advice 

Third Quarter Moon - Disseminating Moon - New Moon in Cancer

“Adjustments are required”, “Take time to breathe out”, “You and your loved ones are safe”

Think about what needs small changes. You’ll probably think mostly about what adjustments you should make during spring, as we’ve talked about it, but there’s no reason why you couldn’t do it now. Just take a deep breath and relax a little, it’s gonna be okay, both with you and your close ones, no need to stress out so much.

PILE 2

What will this year teach you?

The Sun R

This Major Arcana came up in reverse, so it’s more about your inner world. During this year you’ll learn how to take care of your inner child, how to balance optimism with realism and how to have fun with your hobbies that you thought you had buried a long time ago.

The main theme of each season for you

Winter: Cup of Tea (patience, reassessment) - Spring: Autumn (bounty, balance) - Summer: Tend (maintenance, encouragement, guidance) - Fall: Oak Tree (power, courage, strength)

The last card fell out even before I finished asking my question. This year will start slower for you, just to harvest the crops near the end of it. This winter you’ll reconsider what’s the best for you right now, patiently making plans with your interest in mind and seeing the first result of it in spring. Continuous work on it during summer will lead you to feeling way more empowered by the end of 2025. 

Main blessings for you this year

Refinement (Dahlia) - Healing (Geranium) - Duality (Banana)

The last card showed up as I was shuffling, so I consider it the most important one. Balance keeps coming back in this reading. I think healing refers to healing your inner child, and refinement is about getting better at what you already have; progress.

The main challenge of this year

Coffin - Fox - Heart

The end of a selfish love.

It looks like you’ll get over some crush/ex, though it may refer to any kind of love. Moving on will be hard but necessary.

How will you grow?

The Tower R - Two of Cups - Queen of Pentacles

Despite the fear of change, a personal transformation will take place. This will lead to a joyful partnership (a relationship, perhaps) and you being this confident, earthly Queen of Pentacles: a person good at finances and comfortable in their body.

A piece of advice

Void-of-Course-Moon - New Moon in Capricorn - Third Quarter Moon

“Nothing will come of this situation”, “Your hard work is paying off”, “Adjustments are required”

The thing with the end of a relationship of some kind keeps coming back. Nothing will come of it, so time to move on. It’ll only benefit you, pile two! Correct your course a little and act because you’ll reap your rewards.

PILE 3

What will this year teach you?

The Lovers

2025 will teach you how to make right choices, how to be in harmony with yourself as well as with others. You’ll learn a lot about navigating relationships and getting closer to people.

The main theme of each season for you

Winter: Basil (prosperity, luck, love) - Spring: Seeds (new ideas, hope, open-mindedness) - Summer: Sow (planning, setting intentions, optimism) - Winter: Leaves (reneval, revival, progress)

Winter looks very happy for you - good luck both in money and in love. During spring, you’ll stay open-minded and find new ideas thanks to this. With them in mind, you’ll start making plans and work on them till the end of the year.

Main blessings for you this year

Tranquility (violet) - Clarity (carrot) - Grounding (potato)

A pretty calm, steady vibe. You’ll be able to stay at peace, gain a better perspective on certain matters and be down to earth. Stability and a more mature approach .

The main challenge of this year

Mice - Book - Heart

Misinformation about love.

There’s something you won’t know at first or get a false impression regarding some kind of love. Someone may not have your best interest at heart.

How will you grow?

The Tower R - The Sun R - Knave of Wands

Something is going to end, and this will lead to you withdrawing and thinking more about what you actually want and need. This period of introspection is needed because it will help you to become this Knave of Wands - someone fierce, fiery and passionate. 

A piece of advice

New Moon in Scorpio - New Moon in Pisces - Full Moon in Aquarius

“Work through your fears”, “Meditate and contemplate”, “Show the world the real you”

The cards encourage you to face what you’re running away from. Think, meditate, maybe pray. Everything you need to make it easier for you to show the world what you have to offer.

PILE 4

What will this year teach you?

The Moon

You’ll get way more in tune with your intuition, as well as learn how to deal with your fears. You’ll mature a lot emotionally. You’ll get better at “reading” people but also at understanding your own patterns.

The main theme of each season for you

Winter: Cup of Tea (patience, reassessment) - Spring: Salt (protection, banishing negativity) - Summer: Earth (peace, grounding) - Fall: Hearth (safety, comfort, spiritual connection)

This year looks to be more on a quieter side. It’ll start off a little lazily. You’ll observe and revalue some things, and decide to leave what doesn’t serve you anymore; cut yourself off from toxic people. Thanks to this, you’ll have a much more peaceful life. You’ll get more in tune with nature, as well as more spiritual. You’ll feel more comfortable thanks to this decision of leaving people and situations that cause you harm.

Main blessings for you this year

Happiness (Marjoram) - Continuance (Apple) - Clarity (Carrot)

This year will be joyful and peaceful. You’ll move on from doesn’t serve you and get a better perspective on what surrounds you.

The main challenge of this year

Book - Birds - Mice

Knowledge about dirty gossip.

The thing with some people you should get rid of because they don’t have your best interest at heart keeps popping up. 

How will you grow?

Queen of Pentacle R - The Fool R - Seven of Cups R

You’ll start putting yourself first more often. It will take some time, but at last you’ll get more financially independent and prioritize your personal values. 

A piece of advice

New Moon in Aquarius - Waning Moon - New Moon in Cancer

“Bring love into the situation”, “What do you need to release?”, “You and your loved ones are safe”

Forgive yourself if there is anything you keep blaming yourself about. Release what doesn’t serve you. Both you and people you love are safe so make more room for the ones who want good for you.

PILE 5

What will this year teach you?

The Hermit R

The main thing you’ll learn about this year is being alone - depending on your situation, either that you should reflect and meditate more, or that it’s time to finish your solitude and go out to people. Based on other cards, I think for most of you it’s the latter.

The main theme of each season for you

Winter: Broom (energy clearing, freshening) - Spring: Potion (invigoration, empowerment) - Summer: Moon (phases, cycles, intuition) - Fall: Bird (freedom, opportunity)

You’ll start this year with cleansing - both physical and more metaphorical/spiritual. You’ll be very energetic during spring, as well as more in tune with your personal power. You can do so much, and this season will show this! Later, you’ll learn to be more intuitive, you’ll notice some patterns that were hidden before. Something from your past may show up again. Maybe vacations to the place you always come to, or your old friends or love coming back into your life. Some nice opportunities will show up for you in fall.

Main blessings for you this year

Healing (Geranium) - Focus (Stock) - Luck (Lime)

You’ll heal some part of you that was hurt in the past. You’ll find out what you should focus on and actually commit to it. “May the luck be ever in your favor”.

The main challenge of this year

Dog - Man - Clover

A friendly man’s offer.

Now, that’s interesting and can go a few ways.I highly doubt that the man represents you. Your main challenge of the year is this person that will probably give you some kind of opportunity. With how the cards before were, I think it’ll most likely happen either during summer or fall, so the second part of the year. The guy is a kind and loyal one, so don’t worry, the offer, while challenging, will be a good thing.

How will you grow?

Knave of Pentacles - Five of Wands - Queen of Pentacles

I think it’s lovely how you’ll grow from the Knave of Pentacles into the Queen of Pentacles. You’re starting as someone great already, and then become even better lol. You’re hardworking and productive. A challenge will show up, a conflict or disagreement between you and a few people. Probably a rivalry at work. You’ll emerge victorious and stronger than before: a royal who knows their worth and how to deal with earthly matters.

A piece of advice

New Moon in Taurus - Waxing Moon - New Moon in Aries

“Prosperity lies ahead”, “The energy is gaining momentum”, “It’s time to take action”

All the cards talk basically about the same thing: it’s your time. I think it’s about your career or your school. You have strong cards so time to play.

PILE 6

What will this year teach you?

The Empress

Regardless of your gender, you’ll learn the power that lies within femininity. Who said someone nurturing and empathetic isn’t strong? There are also lessons about utilizing creativity and discovering what makes you beautiful, as well as understanding better your sensual side. For some, this year may also teach you a lot about motherhood.

The main theme of each season for you 

Winter: Oak Tree (power, courage, strength) - Spring: Sage (wisdom, purification, harmony) - Summer: Pine Tree (vitality, longevity, perseverance) - Fall: Summer (expansion, growth)

You’ll start your year strong and then only continue at getting more knowledgeable and in tune with your needs and inner self. You’ll secure what’s important for you and grow even more. Looks like an intense and rewarding year, happy for you! 

Main blessings for you this year

Healing (Geranium) - Success (Peppermint) - Divination (Chives)

Yeah, we get further confirmation this year will be focused on you growing and learning how to nurture yourself. There will be work put into healing the part of you you’ve rejected and a lot of different kinds of successes. The Divination card is interesting. I think it means you’ll learn more about this topic (especially if you practice or think about practicing divination). Maybe you’ll have a spiritual awakening. For some, it’s simply about divination helping you navigate your journey.

The main challenge of this year

Heart - Garden - Moon

A loving community’s desires and expectations.

Social fear is your main challenge for this year. You’re scared of people’s judgement. But worry not, because there is a loving community for you out there, and they’ll love you the way you are. 

How will you grow?

Three of Cups R - The Devil R - Three of Pentacles

You’ll release limiting beliefs and limit contact with people who don’t have your best interest at heart. If you’re lonely, it’ll come to an end. There are people out there with whom you’ll communicate easily and work as a team. You’ll learn a lot from each other and probably do something creative together.

A piece of advice 

Full Moon in Capricorn - Full Moon in Taurus - New Moon in Scorpio

“The end of a tough cycle approaches”, “Your dreams need a practical plan”, “Work through your fears”

Yeah, it looks like it’s been kinda hard for you recently, huh? Well, this is coming to an end. Time to plan your next actions and face your worries. Time to deal with them, you can’t run away from them.

[cherry-leclerc]

don’t lock the door ☆ cs55

genre: fluff, humor, smut, angst, thriller/suspense, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide, mentions of homicide, erotic literature, tragedy

word count: 9k

An oleander is beautiful—yet deadly. You’re beautiful—yet deadly. But Carlos has always been gentle, and has always known how to take care of things he loves. And even if he doesn’t, he’s willing to learn, just for you. But you can’t outrun secrets. Not when they have everything to do with the only thing he adores—you.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+... fingering, riding, car sex

STOP AND READ:

The story you are about to read is not meant to be admired or looked up to. Regularly, the types of fics that I like to present to all of you are light, humorous, and sweet. While I feel that this story does have occasional glimpses of that, it also deals with heavy topics such as; suicide, depression, and homicide. At the end of the day, I care about all my readers, so if any of you feel like this is not something for you then you are always welcomed to head over to my masterlist for much lighter reads. You all know me by now, so you must know that sometimes I like to mix a story of traditional love with a dash of real life struggles, such as trauma and guilt, in this case. With that, I hope you enjoy word for word.

cherry here!...did you miss me????

Tension is normally one’s enemy. It’s fairly simple, you try your best to avoid what makes your skin crawl. Isn’t that how the story goes?

Not quite. 

There’s tension, yes, but it's only because you’re the opposite sex. Nothing beyond that. It could also be because you’re both introduced to each other as a pair of miserable singles. Lewis is the person you share in common.

She’s a close friend, he proclaims as you two shake hands. The touch is sticky, just like hot glue— and for a minute—it feels like a knife cuts this invisible strain in half. He lets himself salivate over your lioness stare; dark, sharp, amorous. You lean towards him just the same; dominant, mature, suggestive.

I’ve seen you race.

He hums, still attached to your desirable touch. Yeah? Why haven’t I seen you then?

Fingers press sternly against his warm skin, as if to provoke him more than he already feels himself falling into. It should be alarming the way his mind slips into a frenzy because of it, but likes it. The rush. 

Maybe because I wasn’t rooting for you.

There. Right then, he disconnects. I was hoping that wouldn’t be the case.

You grin. Well, now you know. 

“You know what? Mingle—”

“Who says mingle?” you and Carlos question at the same time, judgemental eyes staring coldly. 

Lewis blushes. “I-I-Is that not a thing anymore?” Silence. “Fuck, I really am getting old...”

The night consists of mimosas, because according to you, it reminds you of your late-mother. “She liked something fruity, but also fun enough to make her head spin. It was entertaining to watch.”

“How so?”

“She’d ramble on and on. Slurred about her dreams.” A sad smile. “That’s the only reason why I ever found out she wanted to become an author. She was fifty—five decades too old—but she said she wanted one last adventure before retiring. It didn’t even matter if she made it onto the New York Times Best Seller list.”

The way your eyes even out, round and almost doughy, makes him trip for a second because this is not the same girl he shook hands with nearly three hours ago. No, this version of you was almost childlike, but he supposes that's how everyone who loses a parent becomes. 

It comes out shy—closed off—your laugh. As if you just caught yourself being too vulnerable. That was always the worst. “Look at me making you my therapist. I have got to stop doing that.” 

His mouth opens lamely, ghostly scoff sitting upon his lips. And if it were to be released, it wouldn’t hurt your feelings. It was a weird thing to note. “I like hearing you talk.”

A beat. “We’ve only just met.”

Carlos grins, crinkles tracing the corner of his eyes like some beauty. “Then let's meet some more.”

The opportunity is there, the kind you’ve been looking for. With a sheepish smile, you nod. “I should warn you though, I’m a bit of a mess.”

Finally, the scoff escapes. And like envisioned, you laugh at the sound.

“Consider me warned.”

-

He fucked you that same night in the back of his car. It was late, so dark that you barely even had the chance to register the fact that you squirted all over his vintage Ferrari. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he pants as he snaps his hips up again, fast motion making you head loll bad. You wonder what he means, but as soon as his long fingers circle your swollen bud, you’re just as good as gone.

He asked you out an hour later, when he dropped you off right in front of your apartment. You happily accepted, unable to hide your excitement. 

Your smile falters. “Give me a reason as to why I should say yes.”

“Um, well, you sort of already said…yes?”

The confusion that settles onto his handsome features makes you glow with satisfaction. “I could always change my mind. Pretend this night never even happened.”

Panic rushes harshly against his shoulders. He doesn’t even know why he cares so much, but he does. 

Vulnerability is a bitch. 

“Huh,” he hums, relaxing against his seat, head hitting the expensive cushion. And you can see it. The challenge. He clicks his tongue, bored all of a sudden. “Listen, I want you, but I certainly don’t need you.”

You realize right there and then—you met your match. 

You realize right there and then—you two share the same green pride. 

You realize right there and then—

“It was nice getting to know you.” 

-

The only reason you’re even friends with someone like Lewis is because your mother married rich.

Filthy fucking rich. 

Then, somehow, married richer by her third and last marriage. The man was twisted, but you never knew just how much. Not for a very long time. 

He dabbled in stocks, or some boring shit like that, and later invested in some other crap. Somewhere along the line, you met the Brit. 

The same Brit who now hisses at you through the phone. 

“God damn it, what happened? Weren’t you two getting along?”

You sigh, rubbing your feet together as you admire the way the navy blue paint covers your pedicured nails. Stormy clouds match your mood as you shake the bottle of pills that lay on top of your desk. 

“He’s too vain.”

He groans. “You my dear, dear friend, are looking into a mirror then, I suppose.”

A sharp gasp. “Are you insinuating I’m the same?”

“If the shoe fits…”

“May I remind you that you sit and stare at yourself for God knows how long before any race? Newflash, dickhead, you’re going to sweat, look like shit, and one out of ten times, you’re going to win.”

“I see I triggered something.” He sighs heavily. The sound tells you he’s not really upset or anything, but more so worried. Ever since she died, you’ve been that way. 

Snappy. Defensive. 

“Hey, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be. I know you.” 

And although he can’t see, you still smile fondly. Rattling the bottle of antidepressants, you inch up higher and higher onto your chair until you face your own reflection. Shattered glass stares back at you as you feverishly look down. 

“Do you still have an extra pass to this weekend's race?”

-

There had to be something wrong with you. Everyone could tell, and quite frankly, you could agree. Would you admit to it out loud? No, now that’s something different. Or maybe you’re just odd. That would also make sense. Whatever it was, it would explain as to why everyone around you screams with excitement as the fast cars fly by. You, on the other hand, simply stare with straight lips and empty eyes.

While all clap cheerfully when Lewis finishes on the third step, you cross your arms. While everyone runs out of the Mercedes garage to declare front row, you drag your feet slowly to the last. 

While Carlos makes eye contact as he lifts his trophy—notably bigger than the Brits—you yawn.

You’re not impressed.

She’s not impressed, the Spaniard remembers thinking to himself as he smiles wider towards the stacks of cameras that turn him temporarily blind. He selfishly thinks you’re here for him, but he knows that's straight bullshit. Truth be told, it didn’t seem like you were here to support your friend either.

“It’s been so long,” Lewis huffs in disbelief as you stare across with vacant eyes. To him, you’re simply jetlagged. “Can you believe it?”

An exhale. “You did good.” Extending your legs outward, you admire the black tiles that shine back brighter than if it were to be white. “Drinks. On me.”

The Brit laughs. “Deal.”

-

Somewhere close by, they play jazz. 

“Pretty,” you softly speak as you connect your lips to the glass. The live band sways back and forth, only adding to the charm you seem to like. And you like it a lot. “Dance with me.”

Lewis snickers. “I love you to death, but I’m gonna have to go with no.”

You frown. “Come on. I never ask you for anything.”

“You were born with a golden spoon and have used retinol since you were ten, you’re not allowed to ask for anything when you’ve already had everything.”

“Yeah…well not this.” You’re secretly envious of every lady in the room. The way they beam with sincere smiles at their husbands. Boyfriends? Flings? Affairs? Who cares honestly, you were jealous nonetheless. 

The Mercedes driver watches as your fingers lazily tap against your lap, as if signaling you’re free. Guilt slithers down his neck as he sighs in defeat. “Fi–”

“Nice seeing you two here.”

Lewis wants to cry with utter thankfulness as Carlos inches closer with a lousy grin. “Hey! Oh God—hey.” You blink. “Wh-what are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining, of course, because I’m not.”

The Spanirad shrugs. “I won. Wanted to celebrate, I suppose.” Brown eyes flicker towards you like thunder and suddenly you feel naked under his gaze. You swallow. “You look nice.”

And there it is again—tension.

He cocks his head to the side, almost as if waiting for a compliment of your own. Instead, he finds himself being ignored. Crossing your legs, you lift the empty glass up as the bartender hurries for a refill. 

Finally, Lewis speaks up. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay—”

“Who says hay?” you and the brunette spit out with snarkiness. You bite back a smile while he releases a chuckle. 

The Brit stands up, chugging the rest of his drink as he waves you two off. “I’m not that old,” he shouts as he turns the corner and disappears. 

Carlos takes the time to catch up on your appearance. Last time he saw you, you had longer hair, now it appears you’ve had a trim. He likes it. You were slightly tanner, but now appear a shade lighter. It could just be because it’s winter. It's nice seeing other versions of you. 

“So, how have you be—”

“Why are you still here?”

He freezes. It takes him a while to find the strength to open his mouth. 

“We never finished our conversation.”

-

He didn’t fuck you that night, no, he took you dancing. And maybe that’s why it worked this time around. Instead of taking the time to learn all the different types of moans you have, he took the time to learn all about your upbringing. 

I learned how to bike when I turned six. Had severe trust issues for a year, so I tried again when I was seven.

That must be where your scars are from, he thinks to himself, but he finds them endearing.

I like long hair, I find it beautiful, but as soon as it’s starting to grow out I think it looks too weird on me. 

That must be why your hair is shorter than he remembers, but he loves it. Has the urge to run his fingers through.

My favorite movie is How Harry Met Sally, but quite frankly, I don't find Harry attractive at all, so I never really understood why Sally settled down with him after so long.

And you’re honest. Brutally honest. And he finds that attractive.

“How about you, Mr. Singapore?”

I learned how to kart before I learned how to bike, actually. I, too, have scars on my hands from small crashes. 

You blush as you hide yours beneath your coat. 

I have two sisters, so I mainly learned how to dance because of them. I hated it at the time, but now I’m quite grateful.

Is it possible to swoon harder?

And I don’t have a favorite film, necessarily, but I’ve watched How Harry Met Sally, and I would agree. Sally was too good looking for him. 

You have to laugh. “Is that so?”

He smiles. “The name Harry sounds so…” He winks cooly before running a hand through his locks. You giggle. “He looks more like a Bob.”

“Oh my God! Could you imagine? How Bob Met Sally?” You pause. “Wait, that actually doesn’t sound half bad…”

He chews on his bottom lip slowly, nodding in agreement. Silence engulfs you two as you stare at each other with round eyes. He’s the first to crack a loopy grin and you quickly follow with a sheepish one. Then, it vanishes and he’s left looking like he swallowed a frog.

“Listen, about last time…”

“Long forgotten.”

He halts, almost surprised by your response. “No, no, there’s no need to pretend, I was a—”

“Jerk?”

The Spaniard rolls his eyes. “Great, so you haven’t forgotten.”

You shrug. “I’m a girl. We remember everything.”

“Got it,” he declares. “Ask me again.”

Now it’s your turn to freeze. “What?”

“Ask me why you should say yes to a date with me.”

“You don’t have to do this, we’re good—”

“I know we are, but I still want you to ask.”

You lick your lip anxiously before relaxing your stiff shoulders. He tilts his head as if urging you and you nod. “Why should I say yes to you?”

Satisfaction settles. “Because you like a good challenge.” He leans closer. “And isn't that what this is?”

-

Carlos Sainz Jr. was made for you.

“Leave me alone,” you scream, veins throbbing, as you rush past him, heading towards the guest room. You’re glad his parents aren’t home at the moment because Lord knows the embarrassment you would feel.

“No. Not until you talk to me.” As simple as that. Your eyes twitch as you turn back, then bring your hands up to your hips. He adores it when you do that, though he probably shouldn’t right now.

“You want to talk?” You let out an unhinged scoff. “Oh, would you look at that, he wants to talk! Now he wants to talk. Well guess what, fuckhead—I don’t.” 

With that, you march out into the balcony. His eyes follow the way you light up a cigarette. The way you drink the last drops of champagne that linger in the bottle gifted to you by his mother. 

She was kind. She was beautiful. She didn’t deserve someone being this mean to her son.

You barely recognize him because of how blurry your vision is, but his scent does it. Musky. Woody. Calm. 

He hands you the familiar pill, then a glass of water. He rushes the champagne away, then takes the cigarette and squashes it against the cold floor. He doesn’t so much call you out for being a lunatic, for upsetting his dogs with all your yelling, or for pushing him. No, he doesn’t do any of that. And you have never been more in love with him than now.

“I know I can be a bit much sometimes…” A sniffle. “I swear I try to catch onto it so you don’t have to deal with any of this, but—”

“You don’t mean it.” He tangles his fingers through your hair as you sob. And it’s soft despite spending the entire day near the ocean. It feels silky. He’s obsessed. “I know you.”

-

You were made for Carlos Sainz Jr.

“How do I look?” 

“Like an angel.” He swears he turns bright red when you blow him a kiss. “Your name must’ve been Bonita in another life because look at you…” A hand flies up to clutch onto his heart as he makes a face. “Though, I must say, you do know how to make me look bad.”

You giggle. “Oh? This old thing? I thrifted it. Nice, eh?”

He groans. “Very, but you’re supposed to be rooting for Spain.” A gag. “Not Italy.”

You frown. “That's all I had. Plus, you’re basically Italian given your working status.”

“No, amor, they pay me to like Italy. It’s a cover up, think about it.”

You huff, popping your hip outward. “Still. I like it, so I’m wearing it while cheering for the opposite team.”

“Always over complicating things.” He laughs. “Can’t say I’m surprised, you’re a complicated person.”

A deadpan expression. “Suck your own dick.”

“Oi, relax.”

Spinning to face the mirror, you fix your jersey one last time before skipping out the door, tube socks sliding as you go. The Spaniard lets out a dreamy sigh. 

Were you flawless? Not at all.

Were you put together? Not without a prescription.

But he loved figuring it all out with you. And that’s called love.

-

You’re in the middle of a rampage, during dinner. While everyone stares at you puzzled, he simply laughs at your cartoon expressions. 

“I mean, I offered!” A pout. “I clearly stated I could get the cap signed for her and she gave me the nastiest, ugliest, dirty-looking glare! I for sure thought her face was permanently damaged.” You relax against the chair, your shaky hand finding its way to your water bottle. “Like sorry for riding your favorite driver…”

Charles laughs nervously. “I don’t think that was a necessary thing to include…” 

You shrug, raising your brows over to your boyfriend who struggles to breathe. 

The conversation flows easily, like most nights you're all together, but this time there’s a minor bump. You’ve been good about it; avoiding the question for so long. Over the course of time, you’ve managed to be so mendacious, that truly no one knew the truth. Not even Carlos.

“I hope it’s not overstepping, but how did your mum pass?”

He means no harm, Lando, but you just wish so badly that you could believe that. While Carlos and Lewis were the closest thing you have to a family nowadays, even they knew not to ask. You never laid the rules out loud, but they could tell it was an unwanted topic to have on your behalf, no matter how curious they got. 

All of a sudden, your mood deteriorates. The look in Lando’s eyes makes sure to strike off as an apology, but you’re so busy looking down onto your lap that you don’t even pinpoint the meaning. The table grows awkward as time ticks by. 

No one has the power to change the subject, save you the same way doctors tried to save your mother—because they, too—wonder. 

You gulp, feeling small, but far too seen at the same time. It was confusing. “She, um…her last husband…” Everyone feels bad, like you’re some limping puppy, zigzagging down an empty highway, but remain quiet. Then, you look up, stone cold but the tip of your rosy nose and blotchy face is enough reassurance that you still have a beating heart.

“Husband number three strangled her to death.”

You say it like you don’t care. Like it hasn’t affected you at all, and that makes Carlos blink twice as fast as everyone else in the table. A droplet makes its way down your cheek as you let out a light laugh. 

“I guess he thought he was some Superior God who had a say in cutting her time short.”

They all freeze. 

“I am so sorry for asking—” 

“I didn’t need to respond.” You smile lamely. “It’s fine, Lando.”

But it’s not, not even close. They ripped the confession out of your throat, at least that’s what it felt like. No one stepped up, no one said anything. 

Your eyes flicker to the only man who makes your heart speed. 

He reaches for your hand and you grip it hard.

No one said anything.

Not. Even. Carlos.

-

You’ve always excelled at holding a grudge. It came fairly simple. 

But as you stare at him through the screen, for the first time—and only the first time—you struggle. Maybe it’s his puppy eyes that betray you, or his gentleness anytime he steps near you, you don’t really know. 

And you don’t want to.

“I was thinking mariscos.”

Hair flies past your eyes as you squint. He looks particularly handsome today, wearing a linen shirt that drapes over him like some silver armor. Long waves brush against his temples as he returns the squint, slightly smiling at your lips. 

“Sounds good to me.”

Soft music roams the isolated restaurant that almost seemed to belong to just you two, and that helps you relax. You could tell it helps him too. 

“The car felt good today.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, biting onto a piece of shrimp. “Felt like I was flying.”

You let out a whistle. There’s a comfortable silence that lingers for a while before you raise a brow up to the open sky. “Hey,” you start as his orbs flicker up with all the attention in the world. “Do you believe in angels?”

A moment. “I’d say so, yes. Yes, I do.”

Hum. “You sound freakishly sure.” You inch forward with teasing eyes. “Why?”

“Easy.” Chocolate orbs swirl with adoration. “There’s you.”

“I don’t count.”

He frowns. “And why not?”

“Because you love me, of course you’d say that only to be nice.”

“I say so because I know so.”

“Love is blind, love is blind,” you chant, sipping on his open can.

A second ticks by. “Why do you ask?”

And like the first night he met you, your eyes merge into doe eyes. “Because I do.” A sheepish grin. “And sorry to disappoint, but it’s not you.” 

“What’s his name?” he jokes.

But you’re not even listening. “My mom was pure. She was a good person, Carlos.” A beat. “She’s my forever angel.”

His heart physically hurts at your glossy eyes, immediately reaching for your hands. “You must really miss her…”

A wet laugh. “Is there a word stronger than ‘really’? If there is, then that would be one way to say it.”

And he has to apologize, even if it’s seven days too late. 

“I’m sorry for not stepping in that night. I-I-I should have said something and you should have said nothing.” Thick brows knit in together. “You don’t know how shitty I felt, but—”

“You wanted to know as well.”

The way his features freeze is enough confirmation. And you can't be mad. Not even a little. Not even a lot. 

“That doesn’t make you a bad person, Carlos. I should have been more open and honest with you first.” A gust of hot air slaps you across the face. “I tend to shut out people like you because…I don’t know.”

“Vulnerability is a bitch?”

You laugh. “That’s one way to say it.” Orbs scan his beauty with no shame before falling back. “You still have plenty of questions, don’t you?”

“O-of course not.”

Another laugh. “It’s okay. You caught me in a good mood. Go on.”

He’s awkward at first, but slowly eases with the sound of your breathing. “Why hasn’t he been arrested?”

“Because he’s a multi-billionaire.”

He gulps and you blink. “Why haven’t you sued?”

“Because I’m not a multi-billionaire.”

“So…he did a cover up with a wad of cash?”

“Mhm. No one dared ask whose hand shaped bruise was imprinted in her neck.”

He’s caught off guard by your bluntness, but he knows he needs this because he knows it will keep him up the same ways it’s kept him up since that god forbidden dinner. 

“This was the cause of your…” He doesn’t even want to finish his sentence.

“Depression…yeah. Losing someone you love will do that to ya.”

But he wants to ask—he wants to ask more because he knows there has to be more. He’s lost people he loves too—and he loved them very much—and he never got this way. In a flash, he feels guilty for comparing his healing process to yours but quickly looks down onto his lap. 

And the hot summer rain is enough warning for him not to question you any further. 

The Spaniard shares a grateful smile. “Thank you for trusting me. To take care of you, and all t-that,” he stutters, blushing.

“I love you, Carlos.” A beat. “I’ve always trusted you. The only person I don’t trust is myself.”

-

“Be quiet,” she hisses, urgently signaling you closer. “And make sure to shut the door.”

Confused, you hesitantly push until you hear a click. Inching closer to your mom, you slowly become more and more lost as you eye the scattered papers all over your step-dads office table. “What is all this?”

Color drains from her normally youthful face. Even the brightest shade of red can’t help add life. “Proof of embezzlement.”

“What?”

She slides stacks of black folders towards you and you quickly flip through, to which you don’t understand a single thing. “He’s stealing money, that’s what. We’re not talking thousands, we’re talking millions,” she whispers frantically before growing green. “Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Okay, okay, hold on, you’re okay.” Rushing to be next to her, you clumsily tie her hair up into a messy ponytail before fanning her with the white sheets. You wince, quickly placing them back down. “How did you even come across this?”

Just as fast as a lighting bolt, she spins the chair. “I’m starting my book—” She gags, “I was supposed to start today, but I came in here looking for his typewriter. You know, the one with the tiny cherubs?” Across the office, you spot it, the tiny angels delicately painted onto the infamous typewriter. You nod. “Well, I started to search for some paper and instead found all of this…”

Even you grow dizzy as you eye the infinite zero’s that jump out against all types of sums. That’s not even enough to spend in ten lifetimes. It was no wonder he just recently made it onto The Forbes list. Her eyes—honest as ever—make you panic as you twirl your thumbs. “Wait…you’re not thinking of confronting him about it, are you?”

“I have to.” Pause. “Right?”

No. You don’t want her to. Not in any scenario. It’s taken you both so long to reach the life you deserve, and now that you were finally here it’s about to be ripped away from you? Your lack of words makes her glare. 

“I don’t know why I’m asking you, I have to! It’s the right thing to do.”

Adrenaline. “Mom, just think about it—”

“I did not raise you to be avaricious,” she spits out, fire practically fuming out of her.  You flinch. “I’m going to talk to him.”

“Y-you’re right.” There goes all your money down the drain. “I’m with you no matter what.” 

Knock knock.

Like mother-daughter, you both freeze as your eyes flicker to the sound. 

“Angelica, are you in there?”

You never liked the name Angelica. Not on anyone else that wasn’t your Angelica. 

Running over to open, she finds herself face-to-face to Lucifer himself as he cocks his head in humor. “Locking me out of my own office now?” He enters. “Fun.” Dark eyes roam the messy area. “Fun.”

Her eyes plead with you in a language only you both knew, but never did you mean to obey. You wanted to stay with her—something told you to stay with her. 

“Honey, give us some privacy, yeah?”

“U-uh…” He winks like that was the go-ahead. Like that was the last permission you needed to agree. And maybe it was. 

Deep down it’s almost like you knew he had sinister intentions. Deep down it’s almost like you knew he was capable of committing those sinister intentions. 

Deep down. 

It’s like you don’t even care.

You smile, tight lipped. “Whatever you need.”

You heard the argument that night, you heard the threats. You heard her pleads, you heard her chokes. You could only imagine what was going on inside, but you were your mothers daughter. You could imagine quite a lot. 

She could’ve been an author—with his resources she might just have hit the New York Times Best Seller list. She could have been a grandmother one day—surely your kids would have lived a luxurious life. 

She could have been obedient. Why wasn’t she obedient? Was it so hard to brush it all under the rug?

He was sweating, just as much as a pig. Or maybe he’s glowing, he is smiling after all. Here and there he apologizes in a lousy manner, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was—

“How much money am I gonna get to keep?”

He’s intrigued. “How much do you want?”

“Enough to not have to worry.” You can still see it; cramped rooms, tin canned meals on paper plates. You could never go back.

An eye roll. “You’re just like her…” A beat. “Fucking greedy.” You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks. You’re embarrassed—-of course you were—who is he to judge? He sighs. “No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“It means I’m not transferring you anything. I want you out of this house no later than Sunday.”

Plump lips open, then snap shut, teeth gritting. “I’ll tell everyone that you’re a murderer. You’ll lose it all, w-watch.”

He’s not phased. Not even in the slightest. “And who’s going to believe you? Tell me, really, because I’d like to know.”

Fuck him for having everything. Fuck him for having everything. Fuck him for having everything.

And fuck yourself for having nothing at all—again.

Months swept by, the death was ruled a suicide, and antidepressant became your loyal friend. There was no one else, and sometimes you feared there would always be no one else. 

Then—by some miracle—there was Carlos.

He was handsome. He was shy. He was sweet. He was kind.

He was rich.

You played hard to get, but so did he. You played the long haul, but so did he. You were a fantastic liar, but he was an ever better believer.

And it all clicked.

Just the way it was supposed to.

-

You’ve been accustomed to a certain lifestyle for years now, but somehow you’re always surprised about the sudden boost you’ve switched to ever since you’ve met him.

Chanel heels turned into red bottoms. Last season dresses turned into those that were not yet  released. You loved everything about it.

“You look so beautiful, cariño,” he groans against your lips, desperate for more. His large hands play with the silky fabric, fighting to slide it up against your hips. You shudder. “I mean…come on.”

“Hey, hey—that’s sweet and all—” You push yourself closer to his toned body, immediately feeling his erection. You nearly whimper.  “But why don’t you fuck me instead?” A kiss. “You missed me, no?”

And instead—he whimpers. “How dare you even ask?” 

With that, he picks you up with ease, pinning you against the wall. You’re dizzy, because unbeknownst to him, he’s casted a spell on you. Never did you think you could fall in love, much less, have someone reciprocate. 

Tender fingers make their way to your clit as you lunge forward, biting down onto his shoulder. It should amaze you how he holds you up with one arm, but you’re not. If anything, you leak more and more by every passing second. 

His dirty pants make you fold as you clench around him. The way they curl, the way they pulse, all of it was your kryptonite. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you squeal, keeping your eyes trapped shut, feeling the familiar knot forming. He grins, pecking your sweaty forehead, digits speeding up. Berry lips form an O as you moan louder with every push.”I-I’m c-c-close—oh God.”

“Shh. It’s okay, let go for me, yeah? I’m right here with you.” 

Gritting your teeth harder, you moan like some pornstar as you finish all around him. Almost like some rule, he desperately sucks his fingers clean. The Spaniard hums like he’s living his biggest dream of all before opening his round eyes. 

“So sweet.”

You blush. “Yours tastes like shit.”

He laughs. “And yet you beg for me to finish all over your face, isn’t that so?”

Nearly choking at his bluntness, you fight back a smile as you play with his floppy locks. They’ve grown so much from the last time you saw him, so this was certainly eye candy to you. He sighs, relaxing as you continue to twirl thick strands around your fingers.

Soft legs still drape over his waist, hands still lay around your waist, and even breathing connects you both. Carlos feels like he’s nearly dozing off, but his hand remains firm, preferring to take a bullet than to let you fall. 

You like to think that you like his lashes the best. But then there’s his eyes. And his nose. And his heart. And his lips. And his hands. And his sculpture body. And his jokes. And his laugh. And his freckles. So you never could choose, not truly.

Inching closer to his ear, you smirk slowly. “Wanna fuck my mouth?”

His eyes snap open, jaw clenching. “You’re such a tease.”

A shrug. “Want to or not?” You bite your lip, legs letting go of his hips as you slide down. “Because this offer ends in five…” He raises a skeptical brow. “Four…” You motion him closer to which he steadily follows. “Three…” He laughs. “Two, one!”

Sprinting up the stairs in a flash, you giggle as he chases after you. The sound of his steps make your heart beat faster as you jump onto your shared bed. Rushing past the corner, he cocks his head to the side as he clicks his tongue. Stepping into the room carefully, he swung the door closed before locking it. You frown.

“Reassures me that no one will walk in.”

“No one will walk in,” you whisper as your stomach drops. “There’s no need t-to—”

“No, yeah, you’re right,” he agrees, taking in your breathless state. “But I prefer it this way. Just you.” A closer stride. “And me.”

Palms are sweaty. Blood slithers down your throat and thighs. And yet your freeze. You feel hot and cold, all at once. You don’t like the feeling, any of it, but you try to ignore the inner monologue. 

“You look stunning,” he states, finally reaching you. “You always do.”

Your speeding heart lessens. “T-thank you.” 

A beat. “You’re not nervous—are you?”

Hastily, you shake your head. “N-no! Of course not!”

Thick brows knit together. “Because you normally aren’t.” His smile fades. “W-we don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to, you know that right?”

Physically, you’re cringing. Mentally, you’re spiraling. The act itself makes the Spaniard withdraw, taking a steady step back and shaking his head. Panic rises fast as you crawl closer to him, reaching the end of the bed. 

“I just have a lot on my mind, but I want this.” A beat. “I want you.”

It’s as if you’re a blank sheet of paper, blinking up at Carlos with such innocence. So much so, it makes his heart stop. He looks for reassurance, which you give him, and he looks for it again, which you give again without hesitance. 

“Come on, Carlitos…” you slowly whisper, batting your eyes. “I know you’ve missed my mouth.”

If you weren’t so breathtaking, if you weren’t so seductive, if you weren’t so goddamn tempting then surely turning you down wouldn’t be an issue. By alas, you’re here—and even better—you’re all his. 

“Eres un sueño.” It seems like an eternity passes by before he finally steps close to you once again, getting rid of whatever distance you ever had. Like it was never meant to be there to begin with. “Can I kiss you first?”

It’s sweet that he feels the need to build up to fucking you sore, but sweet nonetheless. That’s one thing you love about him—and there’s a lot to choose from—his respect towards you. Smiling warmly, you extend your arm, inviting him like an angel before he smashes his lips against you like the devil.

The contrast. It’s just what you needed.

“God, I fucking love you.” 

“I—” His lips press harsher as he continues marking his territory. All of it was making your head spin like a rollercoaster. “I love you too,” you manage to spit out as he makes his way down. You blush. “I-I-I sort of wanted to…”

He blinks. “Sort of what?”

“Well, you know…” You point towards his hardened cock. 

And he actually snickers. “Cat got your tongue today or what, bella?”

A groan. “You’re so fucking annoying—”

“No, no, no,” he cuts in with a whistle. “By all means, go ahead.”

Desperate hands crazily reach out towards his belt in a nanosecond. You should be ashamed how hopeless you are, but you don’t find enough strength to care. Not when he was looking down at you with hungry eyes. 

“Tan linda,” he whispered underneath his breath. As if you weren’t meant to hear him. As if he can’t quite believe it’s you he gets to keep. This must all be a dream to him, he thinks. 

Just as you’re about to pull his jeans down, large hands get ahold of your wrists. Confused, you look up at him, head tilted and messy hair falling over your shoulder. He grins wickedly. 

“Just one more kiss.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Are you kidding me—”

But his soft lips move with such urgency that you don’t even have time to bitch and moan. Not that you’re trying. You can feel it; the hunger, the lust. The way you run your fingers through his hair, or how he squeezes your ass. In a matter of seconds, the room grows steamy, hot breaths expanding with every peck. It’s as if Carlos was too afraid of being ripped away from you even for a second, scared your lips might change and he wouldn’t know a thing about it.

Not knowing you might be his biggest fear.

It happens without a warning, his grip. You feel it slide slowly up your ribs—you remember thinking how much you like it, how much it tickles. Then it reaches your chest, to which his eager hands squeeze your tits, pathetically moaning into your mouth. You can’t help but giggle, but still not separating. And then…

It reaches your neck.

As soon as he squeezes, your eyesight begins to blur, but he doesn’t notice. Your chest begins to rise and fall at an alarming rate, but he doesn’t notice. And you’re terrified.

But he doesn’t notice.

“Carlos,” you whimper, but he takes it as a good sign, mouth moving with ease. “Carlos, honey…”

“Yeah, baby?” His voice is deep. “You like that?” Large palm squeezes harder. “Bet you do.”

“Okay, stop!” you scream, arms flying like some madman. “Let go of me!”

Panicked, he releases you in a hurry, jumping off of your trembling body. Color drains his face as realization hits him, but it's too late. You’re sobbing hard, shoulders bouncing up and down. The way you crawl back with fear makes his heart break as he shakes his head, running a hand against his jaw.

“Fuck.” More cries. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—I am so sorry, baby…” Desperate eyes stare back at you as you hide your face against your shaky hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. I should have known, I should have known.” Inching closer proves to be a mistake when you leap off the bed, throwing a mountain of pillows like daggers. 

“Stop it,” you demand. “Stay. Right. There.”

He flinches. “Are you afraid of me?”

The laugh that erupts from your throat is unlike the others he’s heard. It’s almost maniacal. It makes his skin grow with goosebumps. “Is that even a question?” Dark mascara runs down your cheeks as you breathe heavily. “You just tried to kill me.”

“No,” he pronounces. “No, you know that that’s not true. I-I-I thought you’d like it!” The glare you flicker is enough for him to wince, pinching the tip of his nose. “I should have known better, okay? Please, just…calm down.”

All your sniffles come to an end as you freeze. “Are you calling me crazy?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh my God.” Pushing your hair back, you release a chuckle. “You actually think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy, stop putting words into my mouth.”

A scoff. “Okay, wow.” 

He doesn’t have a clue as to how he continues to dig himself into a hole—and yet—here he is. Digging his own grave. Exhaling hard, he licks his lips before looking straight into your glossy eyes. “I love you,” he starts, but you remain as still as a statue. “And I want us to work through this. I want to be able to talk to you, yeah?” A beat. “I’m sorry about…what I did, I should have never done it knowing you’re…traumatized.” 

He’s almost scared to see your reaction, but it never comes. Instead, you blink hastily, as if you’re mortified. 

You should’ve known. You should have figured that karma would catch up to you sooner or later.

I mean, all sins must be paid for, right?

As soon as he starts closing the gap, you’re thumping heart picks right back up. “I just want to talk—”

“No.”

Despite his hurt, he continues his march towards you. “I just want to be near you, please—”

“I said no!” 

It happens almost in the blink of an eye, the sound of glass shattering. He sort of thinks he must’ve imagined it, your hand flying to punch the mirror right besides you, but the gentle blood that oozes out of your hand makes his heart stop. Suddenly, all the scars you have make sense. So much makes sense. 

“Just…stay there, Carlos,” you say, voice trembling, small hand holding out a piece of sharp glass towards him like some wannabe knife. You bite your bottom lip. “Just—there.”

“Cariño…”

“Stop it with that,” you plead, teardrops slipping. “Stop calling me that.”

Somewhere in the shard, he catches his reflection. Half-scared, half-brokenhearted. He doesn’t even know how you two got to this point. 

He gulps. “Okay. I’ll stop, I’ll stop, but please put that down.” You shake your head fast, splotchy cheeks flushing furthermore. Carlos sighs desperately. “Come on—you’re bleeding.”

“I’m used to it by now.”

Tension resurfaces once again between you both as you stare at each other, awaiting for the next challenge. Playing the silent game for a second, curious to see who breaks next. 

“Why did you lock the door?”

He almost laughs. “We always shut the door—”

You raise the blade up higher as you begin to lose patience. Deep down, you know you’re not capable of harming him, but how could you ever let your guard down once again when he tried to strangle you to death?

History almost repeats itself, and you’ll be damned if you ever let it happen.

“You said it, we shut it but we never lock it.” A soft cry. “What were you planning on doing to me, Carlos?”

It’s like a knife to the heart, you’re sudden distrust. The brunette finds himself struggling to breath as he blinks like a lost deer. 

“You know that I would never hurt you. Not on purpose, at least…”

You let out a wet snarl, shaking your head. “I don’t believe you.”

A flinch. “All of this was a mistake and I adore you.”

“You don’t, though,” you protest, the shaky vision intensifying. “If not you wouldn’t have tried to mur—”

“For the last time, I’m not your step-father!” It’s as if he’s finally reached his breaking point, just now. His body is tired. His mind is tired. Everything is just tired of trying. Carlos shrugs lamely. “If you don’t want to believe me…so be it.”

The pain that rains out of him should be enough for you to know that he’s telling the complete truth. He’s a good guy, with pure intentions. He’s not here to get even with you on your mothers behalf. None of what you’re imagining is true.

But you just can’t seem to understand. 

“I don’t believe your lies, alright?” you spit out with deep breaths. You drop the blade, finally. “Open the door.”

With his head hung low, he complies, feet dragging with every step. And finally, with a hand on the knob, he turns to give you one last glance. He can tell you’re holding in your breath and he doesn’t know why it bothers him so much. Why it make him feel so much like a monster…

Click. The wooden door swings open as he pushes it gently.

“Now leave.”

A wave of nausea strikes with your words. “Amor—“

“Stop. Don’t even look at me.” Tension. “I don’t want to see you ever again—not even by accident.”

And that was the last stab that ended it all.

-

Every now and then, he wonders how you are. Hopefully better. 

He hears your name mentioned once in a blue moon, but instinctively blocks it out, too disturbed at the thought of what occurred between you two. 

What did occur between you two?

He could take a guess and say that you’re internally fucked. Straight and simple. 

But it’s still annoying. The way he wishes to forget you with every passing birthday wish. 

At first, it was because he missed you. He just wanted to forget you because he missed you—yes.

Later, it was because the memory of the cramped room suffocated him. The sound of glass breaking was stronger than the sound of his car crashing. And somehow the latter seemed better. 

He just wanted to forget that day—yes. 

Staring off into space has been his thing for a long time, often getting called out on it. Now, he finds himself with his eyes closed, too scared that someone might notice his feelings and feel the need to ask if he’s okay. 

He hasn't been. Not since you. 

“Grape or watermelon?”

Popping and eye open, he catches a glance of Lewis before rolling over. “I’m good.”

It’s tough, this silent war between both his friends. The break up simply made this…tough. Especially when no one really knows what happened. 

Setting the electrolytes down, the Brit claims a spot next to the brunette. Groaning at the unwanted company, Carlos switches to sit upright. Brown eyes glare strongly before Lewis laughs it off. 

“How you doin’, bud?”

Great, no yeah, just severely depressed thanks to your so-called friend. Would you mind asking her where she gets her antidepressants from for me? I mean, I would, but last time we saw each other she, uh, I don’t know, tried to stab me? And you know what’s the most fucked up shit? It’s the fact that I still love her just the same. 

I just wanted to help. 

He forces a shy smile. “Fine.”

A pity grimace. “I can tell she misses you, you know?”

Carlos hates how excited the thought of you alone—dreamily sighing for his return—gets him to sit up straighter, suddenly interested. It’s foolish, really. 

“She would never admit it, but I can tell because I know—”

“Her?” The Spaniard lets out a mocking scoff. “Trust me, you don’t. Not entirely.”

That shuts Lewis right up as he sits there, staring blankly. A dark brow furrows. “Listen, I don’t know what happened between you two—not that I need to know—but she’s a good person. And so are you. So…don’t be afraid of reaching out.”

He flickers his brown eyes accusingly. “Why should I? Did she put you up to this?”

“She didn’t—“

But the fact is, the hesitation gives him away. Anger arises as the Spaniard rolls his eyes. “I knew it, God, I knew it!” A second. “I know her.”

The Brit drowns with nervousness as he waves his hands in despair. “She just wants you to apologize!”

A singular laugh. “Apologize for what?” He pauses, squinting at his friend. “She didn’t tell you why we broke up, did she?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t really know who’s fault it was, do you?”

Lewis looks down onto his lap. “No. Not really.”

“Great, then let me be the one to tell you that it was both of ours. I’m no saint but neither is she.”

An award silence lingers as the Spaniards voice echoes the room. Lewis nods. “Understood. I got it, okay?”

He sighs an irregular sigh. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t worry about it, man.” A sheepish grin. “It’s not my place to fix anything about your guys’ relationship, I get it.”

Carlos’ face switches to bright red as he nods his head once. “T-thanks.”

The Brit, ever happily, stands up firmly before patting his back. “I’m always here if you need to talk.”

“Gracias.” Lewis is just a few steps away when he clears his throat before he can even stop himself from asking. “How’s she doing?”

It came across almost softer than a mumble, and one might have missed it if not alert, but not Lewis. 

Spinning to face the almost manchild with round eyes, he smiles as bright as the sun, and that makes his stomach turn. Because he knows. He knows you’re doing—

“Really well.”

Fluffy hair falls down as he tilts his head, clicking his tongue. “That’s good.” Sure. He returns the same smile with a twitch. “That’s really good.”

Lewis has known you two for a long time now. He’s unwillingly memorized your ticks. How the right side of your face slightly twitches before every lie, or how the left side of his does the same before every lie. Much like right now. 

The Brit contemplates for a minute, then two, then opens his mouth in the most hesitant manner. 

“She’s moving to Germany.” Carlos freezes. “Only for a few months. Maybe a year, who knows. But…you should read her book.”

He unfreezes. “Her what?”

A faint smile. Eyes crinkled. “It’s a tough read, but I believe it was necessary. You know, to finally talk about it.”

-

He never quite believed you would open up this way, and yet here he was, in an unknown bookstore, spacing out. Your name jumps out like some shooting star, too difficult to ignore. 

Without a doubt, you’d get a lawsuit from your step-father. Of course—you were only dragging the last name of what seemed to be the world's richest man. 

For what it’s worth, Carlos is proud. This must mean you’re open to moving on. To get the necessary help you so desperately need. From start to finish, the pages are enticing. You go into gruesome depth, something you never seemed to have a problem in doing. From the mention of how her eyes remained open with no sign of life, only terror, to the fact that you got your many scars from punching the door, trying to get in on time. How he bribed his way against the laws. 

Everything seemed to be coming out.

So then why, as he sits in his driver's room, staring at your picture in the back of the book, does he feel like doesn’t believe it? 

Not even a generous half.

-

Angelica lived up to the first five letters of her name. 

She was there for you in the moments you needed her the most. She braided your hair for playdates, she tied your shoe laces even when you were too embarrassed to ask, and she worked her way up, making sure you had it all. 

Undeniably, she was one hell of a woman. Then again, she had more within her—pulled some trigger you never thought she’d pull.

You were going to lose it all, why couldn’t she foresee that? That conversation was going to rip your inheritance straight from your tight grip; the one that ensured your future vacations. How could she ever betray you? Her own daughter? 

You were acquisitive. You were possessive. You were partially responsible for her death.

But call it naiveness, you really thought it’d work.

No one will truly know the way your soul left your body when you heard you wouldn’t get a single dollar. Not even a fucking cent. You had to find some other way to stay secure.

But Carlos was out to get you, you just know he was. You don’t have a clue as to how he found out about the truth, about what happened inside that stupid mansion, but he knew it all. And you had to get out of there.

Only it led you back to square one. With no purpose. With no money. Fuck men and their actions, seriously, too all hell with them.

However, you were your mothers daughter at the end of the day.

You could be a writer. An even better one that she could've ever been. If you wanted to, you could do it. 

And that is exactly what you did.

You typed, and typed, and typed until your fingers would cramp up. The multi-billionaire was a leviathan and everyone would see that no matter what. 

You, on the other hand, were an innocent bystander. Too weak to intervene, to fight back. Too young. Yeah. That was what happened that night.

But you also had your own perspective. One your mom could never match.

While she married for the illusion of love, you would’ve married for money with no shame. Carlos just happened to be the luckiest of strikes because you got both. 

While she always was at the front of the room without having to try, you were always in the back with a bitter smile. Why did she get to have two dimples? All eyes would have surely been on you if you had at least one. 

And while she never cared about reaching the New York Times Best Seller list—you did. 

She would have jumped with joy just by selling ten copies, but not you. You always wanted more—craved more. Label it as ambition. 

More copies sold means more money. A trust fund means more money. Playing the victim against your step-father means even more money. So yeah…

You did care about that stupid list. 

Tilting your head back against your seat, you flinch at the taste of the pill, too familiar for your liking, but the wine helps. It always does nowadays. 

Buzz. 

Picking up with a level of indifference was all fake—you had been yearning this call for what seemed like your whole life.

“Hey.” His voice is almost raw. Like he could use a couple cough drops. “I-I-I read your book. It was incredible.”

And for the first time in a while, you smile. “Thank you, that means a lot, Carlos.”

You can hear the static against the line, indicating once again that you’re on opposite sides of the world and not together. You can almost bet that it will always stay that way. 

The Spaniard coughs awkwardly into your ear.

“Oh, and also, congrats on making it onto the New York Times Best Seller.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[bumblequinn]

hi @sourpatchsquids! thank you for your question.

as an artist with ADHD, i know this struggle very well. unfortunately offering advice on this kind of thing can be tricky, because what works for me may not work for you (and vice versa!). nonetheless, i can try; take whatever works for you, forget the rest, or reshape any part of it as you see fit. :)

but before i offer any actual tools, i have one caveat. i want you to take a moment to reflect and consider if you should be:

changing expectations

the timing of this question seems fated, because just the other day i had a therapy session wherein i expressed my grief and frustration over struggling to work lately due to my seasonal depression. it's not fair that i'm struggling just because it got a little darker outside! i just want the spark i had in the summer! i was so much more consistent!

my therapist's response: nothing about human beings is consistent. we get sick, we get tired, we get hungry and thirsty (and thirsty) and sad and lonely and restless and stressed and overwhelmed. this all gets amplified for folks who are atypical in some way or another.

when my therapist compared our seasonal cycles to those of plants and other animals, who wilt and slow down and hibernate, i protested aloud that i wanted to be a perennial instead. at this she said: even perennials change with the seasons. rose bushes have to be pruned, sometimes down to half their height! it was a dose of perspective i didn't particularly want, but really needed.

so when you're struggling to work through executive dysfunction, burnout, or brain fog, it can help to first check in with yourself about a few things. what do you have the capacity for right now? do you need any accommodation? and if so, what changes you might make to accommodate yourself?

with practice and self reflection, i've learned a handful of specific routines that help me when i'm struggling with creative work, which i'll detail next. note that while your question is specifically about music and i am specifically a musician, i believe that all of these suggestions can apply to most any form of digital creative work.

with that in mind:

#1: work slower

when i'm at the top of my game, i can get a LOT done in a day. but when i'm depressed, fatigued, or distracted, i just can't go full steam. sometimes i'll try to convince myself that i can if i just push harder, but what actually ends up happening is that i'm just fiddling with settings and going in circles rather than moving forward.

instead of that, when i want to work a lot but can't, i try to work slow. how slow? however slow i need to. take four hours to figure out the melody for a single verse. take all day to figure out that drum groove. yeah, i take a lot of breaks in between. who says i have to be my Absolute Most Productive Every Day Or Else? that's the puritan work ethic talking. kill it. be kind to yourself.

i'm reminded of advice i once read about some super successful and prolific author (gaiman? king? pratchett?) who said they wrote only four hundred words every weekday. that's already less than the word count of this post, and i'm only—[travels into the future to check my final word count]... 22.8% of the way through writing it!

now, i don't think i could function that way, because ADHD means some days i'm hyperfocused like crazy, and other days i just have no steam at all (more on that in #4-6). but it seems to me that if even someone highly respected in their profession can achieve what they have with only a little bit of work on a regular basis, maybe i don't have to punish myself for not pumping out a finished work every single week.

doing less work per day means you're much less likely to burn out, which does a lot for working more consistently. if that consistency still doesn't look like a five-day work week, that's okay! as long as it helps you work even a little more often when you want to, it's something worth doing.

however, if you're still feeling truly stuck, all hope isn't lost. you can still try:

#2: switch projects

sometimes the reason i'm moving slow is because of a bad brain day, but sometimes the reason is that i just cannot muster the motivation to do the specific task i'm trying to do right now. ADHD is fueled by novelty and interest, and if i'm not interested in what i'm doing, or it's feeling stale, that's a sign that i need to switch gears.

this is why first it's helpful for me to have more than one project going at a time. this might mean completely unrelated works, or it might just mean related tracks as with the music for a game like SLARPG or susan taxpayer.

the idea here is not to start a dozen different projects and bounce around them like i'm playing whac-a-mole—though i have done that. (i don't recommend it.) the idea here is to have a manageable number of different projects i can be working on so that if i get bored or stuck on something, i have fallback options.

what that number of projects is depends entirely on the week. maybe right now it's two, maybe another time it's three. i would probably be getting carried away if i tried more than that, but that's just my own limit. maybe yours is different. that's something for you to think about.

but it doesn't have to stop there.

#3: switch focus

maybe there is this one project that i just HAVE to work on, but the task i'm trying to do at this stage just isn't coming to me. okay, well, why don't i try working on a different task?

let's say i can't figure out what i want to do with the melody in one part of the song:

what if i try jumping ahead to a different part of the melody? ...no, i'm stumped on melodies today. okay, how about working on the drums instead? ...hmm no, i think i'm just completely tapped out on writing parts right now. alright, what if i organized my tracks, making sure they're all grouped and named in a way that i can work with easily? what if i did a rough volume balance for the mix?

and so on. if that's not enough to shake the off stuckness, i might consider: what can i do to make this project more interesting to me?

what happens if i try using an instrument or effect that i almost never reach for? what if i try sampling something obscure? what if i bang out the drums using my midi keyboard instead of drawing it in on the piano roll?

any approach that breaks me out of my usual habits is bound to get that feeling of novelty and fun back when i need it.

or maybe i can't do any of that right now, and so i take the time to answer a question from a fellow musician instead. i consider that part of my work, too, in a broader sense. check in with yourself and figure out what you can do right now. the rest will still be there later.

but okay, let's say you try switching gears, and switching again, and again, and nothing is moving. you try new approaches, but that wall of awful is insurmountable in this moment. it happens! the next thing you might try is:

#4: learn something new

when you aren't able to make progress on your projects, you can still make progress on your knowledge and craft. i often find this stokes a flame of inspiration in me where there wasn't one before. and even when it doesn't, it still gets my brain out of that feeling of stuckness and dread and into one of thought and action. learning also benefits in the long term because it adds to the well of knowledge from which you draw for all your future works.

for all the awfulness that exists on the internet, it remains an absolute treasure trove of teaching. there's an endless ocean of videos, blog posts, and articles from which you might learn something about your craft. (and if you sail the seven seas, plenty of book PDFs as well. 🦜🏴‍☠️)

it's true that the quality and depth of information out there can vary wildly, but in my experience most resources get at least some things right. and the more you research, practice, and figure out what works for you, the better you will learn to differentiate between the advice worth keeping, and the advice to forget. (that goes for all of what i'm saying here, too!)

that said, since our shared focus is music, a few resources i would highly recommend are:

music theory and composition music matters, 12tone, charles cornell, music with myles, 8-bit music theory, and this introduction by andrew huang

mixing and production dan worrall (especially this series for fabfilter), kush after hours, red means recording, andrew huang, alice yalcin efe, in the mix

general inspiration nahre sol, ben levin, david hilowitz, game score fanfare, posy, jerobeam fenderson, open reel ensemble, and ELECTRONICOS FANTASTICOS!

(if any readers have their own helpful resources for creating music or any other media, feel free to share in the replies & reblogs! 💓)

of course, on an especially bad day, it might be a challenge to seek out information, let alone retain it. that can feel pretty bad, but remember: be kind to yourself. the next thing you might consider trying is:

#5: consume art you love

not just music. books. shows. movies. games. illustration. animation. whatever moves and inspires you.

but do it intentionally. don't just pull up some random thing the algorithm suggested! check in with yourself about what you want (or are able) to engage with right now. choose accordingly. if you get a little way into it and realize it's not scratching that itch, hit the bricks. check in with yourself again. wash, rinse, repeat, until you find whatever it is that speaks to you right now.

and do it actively, if you can. don't just let it go in one eye and out the other! really pay attention to the work. what do you like about it? what are its themes and motifs? what makes it work so well? what are its flaws, and how much do they matter? what might you do differently? you can write notes as you do this if it helps, but even simply noticing and thinking goes a long way.

what you don't want to do is come at this with a lens of shame or envy. you're not here just to say to yourself, "ugh, if only i could do THAT." it's okay if it happens. use that thought as a springboard for curiosity: "well okay, how DID they do that? do i have the resources for it? if so, how could i apply that to my own work? if not, how can i adapt it, or what do i need to learn?" keep your mind open and approach the work with a sense of wonder.

as a creative person, it's very easy to think, "i should be making something right now, not watching a movie!" but that thought forgets something vital: your art is a response in a conversation. of course the "language" you use is your own, and maybe if you're lucky you'll invent a new word. but most of the words you use have been around long before you were born. you're just one voice in a dialogue that spans continents and generations, and that's okay. it's even the whole point.

none of us is an island. we are profoundly social animals. just as we can't live without eating, we can't make without learning. so half of making art is consuming it. consider this part of the process as well.

and finally,

#6: rest, and live your life

let's say you're in really dire straits. you've tried working slower. you tried changing focus, you tried changing projects. you want to take in new information or actively engage with your favorite art, but you're not in the headspace for it. what now?

take a nap. take a walk. take a shower. eat a nice meal, or an okay one. talk to a friend. maybe even do that chore you've been putting off (you know the one).

it's human to always crave making, but you're not a machine—and even if you were, machines need regular maintenance, too! you wouldn't drive a car that's completely out of gas, and you won't do yourself any favors treating your body that way either.

i know that when you take a break it feels as though you're not accomplishing anything, but you are: you're taking care of your animal self. and while you do that, your creative brain doesn't stop working! much like windows, it has countless background processes running at any given moment, with inscrutable names like "cbdhsvc_692da" or "Microsoft Edge Update Service." it's true, i checked.

when you're stuck on a project and you step away to rest, your brain is still chipping away at your ideas unconsciously. i like to tell people, "it's percolating." much like waiting for a pot of water to boil, that idea is still heating up, even when you take a step away. just be sure to check in on it once in a while. the time will pass, and it'll be boiling again before long. :)

before i go, i'll leave you with one last thing to keep in mind as you try all of these strategies:

be kind to yourself.

being human is just about one of the hardest things you can do. let alone being a human trying to survive capitalism while living with disabilities! the last thing you need on top of that is to overwork yourself, talk to yourself negatively, or treat yourself harshly. there are plenty of other people in the world who do that to you—don't be one of them.

i'm not saying that you shouldn't try to challenge yourself, to test your limits and go above and beyond your ambitions, if that's what you want to do. just remember that hard work and self compassion are not mutually exclusive. so be careful not to bully yourself. take pride in the progress you make, even when it seems small. encourage yourself like you would a friend who's going through a hard time. and when you challenge yourself, be your own cheerleader.

i hope you find this advice helpful! remember, this is just what helps me, so don't feel like you have to follow any of it exactly. maybe taking time to learn new information helps break you out of your rut more than working slowly, so you reach for that tool first. maybe having multiple projects going at once is too distracting for you, so you prefer to stick to one at a time. whatever your needs are, feel free to alter and adapt these ideas to fit you.

thank you for reading, and i wish you the best of luck in your creating.

with care, bee 🐦

[alchemistc]

i like your voice in person

Evan's staring at the bed like he's trying to navigate a minefield.

Six months ago that would have sent Tommy on another journey of self-deprecation, a reminder that he'd known Evan wasn't ready for this, known this was a possibility, but Evan, for all his own insecurities, knows what the hell he wants and if he'd felt even an ounce of pressure or remorse up to this point he'd have said something long before now.

Sometimes Evan likes to work it out himself, and sometimes he needs a little nudge, and Tommy watches the head tilt and the angle of his pursed lips for cues as he settles under the sheets.

"Something on your mind?" he prompts, and Evan blinks, like he hadn't realized he'd gotten lost in his thoughts.

"Uh...nothing, maybe."

"Sounds like something, probably."

Evan's smile tilts up at one corner, and he settles on the bed a little stiffly. "It's nothing major. Just. Something I've been thinking about?"

He can feel his brows jumping, can see the way Evan takes in the look with a fond expression. Evan steels himself for something -- they're still muddling through past experiences and learning how to be a bit more intentional in some of their conversations, because they both have a bad habit of reverting to flirting and deflection.

"You remember what we talked about last weekend?"

Tommy can genuinely remember about 93 percent of what he and Evan talk about at any given time, which is an astronomically high number and not at all an exaggeration. He'd be embarrassed about it if he didn't have clear evidence that Evan was as deep into this as he was.

They talk a lot, is the thing, about inconsequential shit just as much (definitely more) than the important stuff. They talk far more than Tommy can remember talking in any other relationship he's been in. But Tommy can pinpoint the exact one he means.

"You mean the roles thing."

Evan hadn't been a stranger to a little daddy talk in bed when they started to explore it, and he'd brought it up right at the start for a reason, but Tommy had taken a while to come around to the realization that Evan had sort of internalized the 'I don't have daddy issues' of it all in a way that Tommy hadn't actually meant it. There'd been little things, here and there; like Evan reaching a door before him and then bashfully waiting with it half open like he'd made a misstep; like twisting his mouth a little funny when he snatched the bill from the table before Tommy could get it. Little things.

Things that, in the abstract, yeah, Tommy liked to do for his partners, but in reality weren't actually that big a deal to him.

He'd needed to clear the air.

Evan nods. Curls a hand around his knee before he shifts his body so that he's facing Tommy. "So, I like taking care of people."

(A conversation, a month ago, Evan grimacing around "My therapist says I have to stop calling myself a people pleaser in a derogatory way.")

Tommy hums, something to remind Evan he's listening.

"And I guess I sort of built up this idea in my head that that was like, a hard stop with you."

("Everyone likes being taken care of sometimes, Evan.")

"And I'm not -- I'm not upset at you, or like, feeling guilty, I just -- I've been thinking about it, and I feel like I forgot to ask you how you wanted to be taken care of."

The thing with Evan is that no matter how often he'll deflect with a joke, when he wants to say something serious he's blunt as hell about it. There might be some hemming and hawing to get there but sometimes he says things that just make Tommy wonder if he'd ever actually learned how to say things before Evan.

"I don't really have a list, babe," he says, and then sort of hates himself for it. Deflect, distract, hey baby how about I blow you about all these big feelings inside my chest I can't articulate.

Evan, though, Evan squinches his eyes and runs a heavy hand through his hair. "I...sort of do?"

"Lay it on me."

Evan grins. "That's actually one of the things on my list."

Tommy blinks. Tries to figure out that trail of thought, but he's coming up with nothing. "Okay, can you expand on that?"

"Like --listen, you know I'm a huge fan of being the little spoon. I'd let someone put screws back in my leg just for continued little spoon privileges. But sometimes I miss being the big spoon, and in my head the idea sounded so stupid to bring up but now I'm wondering if, like, maybe I've just been denying you the joy of being the little spoon?"

Tommy thinks of Evan's hands spread big and warm across his belly, of knees tucked up behind his, warm breath on the back of his neck like when Evan stumbles up behind him in the mornings whining about coffee, and maybe he blue screens a bit because he's never actually dated someone so close to his own size, because there's always been an assumption at the outset that he wouldn't want that.

Alex had been a little too into the same dynamic he'd seen Evan stumbling through, and Colin had hated sleeping with someone's flesh touching his own. Beyond that he hadn't really dated anyone long enough to really form a preference.

Maybe Kara might have been willing, back when he'd been closeted enough to pretend it wasn't an effort to get it up when she had his dick in her mouth, but they'd been young enough that staying the night wasn't really a consideration.

"And like -- listen, I don't necessarily prescribe to gender roles as a thing in general, but a few weekends ago I spent like twenty minutes staring at a bouquet of flowers in Trader Joe's and convinced myself you wouldn't like the gesture so I didn't buy them but you have a few vases in your moms old china cabinet and the moment I remembered them I felt stupid for not buying the flowers."

There's something curling tenderly underneath Tommy's ribcage that he's not sure he's ever felt quite like this before. It's not new, exactly, but it seems to be thrumming particularly hard tonight.

Three months in, Tommy had gotten the man-flu from hell, temperatures so high he'd been grounded and sent packing to rest it off, and he'd texted Evan a jumbled mess of barely discernible things when they'd tucked him into the Uber.

Evan and Bobby had made chicken noodle soup at the station and Hen had sent Evan off with a laundry list of things he could do to help drop the fever, and Tommy had spent the duration sulking and glowering and dragging himself out of bed every time Evan had wanted to change the sheets, to keep Tommy as comfortable as he could, but when Evan had caught it four days later he hadn't hesitated to do all the same shit with gusto. Evan hadn't been particularly grateful either, because neither one of them liked being laid up when the world was out there waiting for them, but he'd at least had the grace to not be an asshole about it.

He had, though. Been grateful. A little awestruck, too, at the mere idea of someone so unafraid of just being there through all the moaning and groaning and hacking and coughing, keeping the tissues from piling up on the bedside table and switching out cold packs to the freezer so he always had one ready in case he wanted it. In the clarity of a full day without fever making his brain feel like cotton candy he'd stared down at a sleepily wheezing Evan and known he could absolutely lose his heart to this man.

"Also I don't want to toot my own horn here but I give excellent foot rubs, and I feel like there's about a million other things I've just been -- holding back from doing?"

"Because of the role thing, or because all your stupid exes told you you were needy?"

It's not a night to pull punches. Also Tommy wants to send thank you cards to every single one of them and attach them to boxes with a bark scorpion inside.

"Both," Evan says without a second of hesitation. His smile crinkles at the corners of his mouth, and Tommy is suddenly annoyed with the space between them. When he holds out his hand to tug Evan into him, Evan melts into it for the space of a moment before he pulls back. "I actually kind of desperately want to be the big spoon right now, if that's something you'd be into." Evan had definitely clocked the look on his face when he'd mentioned it, but he's keyed into the way Tommy checks in and reciprocated in kind since the start of this, so.

Tommy peels his glasses off, snags his bookmark to keep his spot in the monstrosity of the Wrangler maintenance manual he'd stopped being cagey about the fifth time Evan caught him flipping through it, and watches Evan settle comfortably into bed next to him. The problem is, Tommy actually isn't sure where to go from there, which is a ridiculous thought to have because Evan hadn't either and he'd figured it out just fine.

"How do you want me, Buckley?"

The roll of his eyes is so bitchy that Tommy has to remind himself that for all his people pleasing attributes, Evan Buckley is, at heart, a huge fucking brat. Evan tugs and twists and maneuvers his arms and Tommy sort of sinks into it, head tucked in the crook of his shoulder, draping his leg over one of Evan's when he shifts his knee pointedly, a massive, unruly breath escaping Tommy once they're all done shifting.

"You should absolutely try out the rest of your list," he murmurs into the space where Evan's shoulder meets his neck. "Although you don't need to woo me anymore, I'm actually fully wooed."

Lips against his crown, pressed tightly enough that he can feel the smile against his scalp, Evan chuckles. "You don't know how good my wooing is."

The fingers shifting up and down his arm feel somehow different, from this position, even though Evan has done it a hundred times before from the spot he likes to claim with his head right over Tommy's bleeding, three-sizes-too-big-for-him heart. It's ridiculous, and it shouldn't feel any different, but it does. He wants to be greedy with it, soak it in and then never let Evan do this again because he finally understands the appeal and he doesn't want to deprive Evan that.

"This is nicer than I expected."

Evan's soft laugh ruffles his hair, and Tommy wonders if he's dumb enough to ask Eddie how long he should wait before he can reasonably beg Evan to spend the rest of his life with him.

"Save the reviews for when I actually spoon you. It's gonna rock your world." His hand drifts up, fingers digging into the dimple of Tommy's skull.

The hum in his throat has a mind of it's own, going thin and reedy and --

Evan pauses, and Tommy can practically see the gears whirring in his mind, because this is new information.

To both of them, actually, but Tommy doesn't have time to process it because the fingers on the back of his skull spread and sink deeper, just enough pressure to be more than a glancing ruffle, and Tommy can't quite help the way he tilts his head back into it, or the way he hitches his leg to press his groin a little more firmly to the outside of Evan's thigh.

They're both too tired for it to really mean anything -- both off 48's and a fumbled round in the shower while they were already bone weary -- but Tommy wants the reminder for them both when they wake up in the morning.

He can feel his eyes drooping the longer Evan scrubs his fingers against him, and the thought pops into his head as he's drifting off. He doesn't want it to disappear into the fog, though, so he murmurs it into the soft, warm skin of Evan's neck. "I like camellia's. White ones."

Evan hums, and Tommy just knows that the moment he drops off, Evan will be reaching for his phone to google the language of flowers.

[writella]

Daryl Dixon Kissing Daydreams— A little look inside Daryl’s memories of kissing his favorite person in the world.

Details: Daryl Dixon x reader (no pronouns are used but there is one instance that I use the word princess), suggestive but overall, just some lovely sweetness! wc: 2k, slightly proofread— my apologies about any misspells, I just really want to get this out and get back to writing!!!

A/N: Let’s get back into things. ♡ I hope you’re all doing well. With love from writella. ♡

Daryl Dixon loves kissing.

He’d never admit it though— albeit that is a weird thing to admit out of nowhere— and he’s never said it out loud— albeit that is a weird thing to say out loud in most normal instances as well— but either way, he does. He really, really does.

Ironically, it’s his fifth favorite form of affection.

The first is acts of service. He doesn’t call it that though. He probably doesn’t even know the phrase. To him, it’s just being useful. Helping, or as he’d pronounce it, helpin’, or jus helpin’ awut.

This includes hunting to feed others, preparing food (even though he’s awful at it other than roasting things on a fire, so everyone agrees, just hunting), remembering things you like and getting them when and if he can find them, thoughtful gifts that remind him of you— basically any stones or trinkets he finds on his journeys, finding shelter if need be, keeping you safe and warm— even at the expense of himself, fixing things, taking the time to teaching you survival skills you want to learn, the sort.

The second is beating the shit out of people in his loved ones honor. Walkers, “Saviors,” men named Negan, basically, anyone out to kill you. He didn’t like seeing people hurt his friends, but he does enjoy when he gets to fuck people up in case it happens. To that, a subconscious part of Daryl’s brain says thank god there are no therapists in town; or, that they are either too scared to speak to him or have not gotten the chance to speak to him so he doesn’t have to reckon with the fact that his not-so-secret thirst for punching and shooting arrows at people might be just a little too high.

The third is listening. He didn’t know he was good at this until you told him. He doesn’t interrupt and he is not quick to judge, you had said, “or really you just know how to keep the mean things to yourself.” He smiled at that. He realized that yes, he is a silent judger, but he’s also pretty open-minded. He liked that about himself, and he found out because of you. It made him feel nice.

Also, if you were wondering, yes, you may have noticed that these three forms of affection can all be argued as kinds of acts of service, but again, Daryl doesn’t know phrases like that, and even if he did or if he was classifying any of his interests or skills, beating people up and shooting things with arrows would always be in its category.

The fourth is hugging– another one he wouldn’t admit out loud. He’d never say he needed a hug, but wouldn’t deny a friend one, and they became more meaningful to him after moments he’d thought he’d never see them again, or see you again. Hugs became incredibly important then. It made him realize that hugging was also the first form of intimate, physical touch that he ever felt comfortable with. He obviously didn’t grow up in an affectionate home, but he was at least used to getting a pat on the back from Meryl when he caught something good to eat, said something Meryl thought was funny, or did whatever Meryl told him to do “right the first time.” Seldomly though, if Meryl was in one of his good moods, he’d give Daryl an actual hug, one of those nice, brotherly ones. Maybe Meryl was laughing with his friends when saw Daryl, beckoning him over, hugging him by the side saying, “Hey little brother,” as he tussles Daryl’s hair; or at night, when Meryl stumbles in as a sleepy-go-lucky-drunk, lazily throwing his chest and arms around Daryl, telling him, “I love you.” He knew never to take it that seriously in those moments, but he did, he couldn’t help it even if he was good at making it look like he didn’t from the outside. The only other time Meryl would do or say that is when one or both of them got it from their dad. Nevermore did they feel closer, as if they were one half of the other, than in moments like those. Daryl felt almost bad for liking it. He used to have to earn affection, he realized. He’s almost ready to talk about it. With you. You give him so much so freely. He’s shocked and sometimes terrified by it. But your helping, your saving, your listening, your hugging– it made him feel ready to speak. It is what also helped him learn his last favorite form of affection, the one mentioned above and only saved for you, the fifth–

–kissing.

One of his favorite places to kiss you is by your fireplace. You two would sit on the rug and you’d ask him to drag the coffee table to where you sat. The two of you ate dinner there sometimes, near the fire on a cold winter evening, or you used it as a place to set down your drinks and whatever game you two were playing, or to use as a resting spot for your elbows as he listened to you talk for what felt like an enchanting forever.

He never tired of your voice as you spoke about your old favorite tv shows and movies and books that he had never watched or read, listening with no interruption– as he always does– or waiting for moments to ask you questions or follow-up questions about this character or that and you’d answer with as much as your memory recalled. You’d make yourself laugh with how silly and passionate you got over these things and he would smile softly, blue eyes glowing in the firelight because he liked hearing you speak, he liked everything you had to say.

It’s moments like this when your smiles catch one another’s and your eyes lock a few seconds longer than before because there is nothing else left to place your gaze on that Daryl places his hand on yours or on your leg and you know that means he wants you closer. His hand moves to your face and his thumb gently swipes and caresses your jaw and you both stay there for a moment, looking at each other. You move in slowly and you kiss him so soft and and tender and tentatively like a princess. His princess. The one who made everything so lovely and magical to what he thought of as his weird and jagged gremlin self.

Daryl gets excited during the times you decide to initiate. It makes him feel courageous when you’re courageous. He grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer, taking control as he slips his tongue in your mouth.

You sigh, warmth and happiness surrounding you as you allow him to take control. Grabbing your head as gently as his rough hands would allow, he sets you on the rug, giving you pecks before looking down at you one last time, seeing the fire illuminate your face with red and orange— the colors of his heart and mind when he’s around you— and then, finally, places himself atop of you and goes back to kissing you. Once again, he slides his tongue in your mouth, wordlessly telling you how much he loves you and how much he loves this. His hands trail down from your waist to your neck as you grab his and play with his hair as you kiss into the night until your mouths are sore.

Daryl also remembers your first kiss. You were angry with him, or at least that’s what he thought. But it was more so frustration, a tinge of disappointment. You were falling for him, desperately so whether you wanted to admit it or not, but it’s so hard to fall for someone not willing to open their heart— you can only be so patient. So, uncharacteristically, at least when it came to him, you got in his face, you got loud, you told him how you felt. Not that you loved him, no, not yet. You told him he’s closed off, that you couldn’t take it anymore, that you wanted him to be honest, to be real, to just say how he felt anytime, all the time, whenever he wanted. You never took him as fearful, but still, thoughtlessly, as your faces almost touched, you asked, “What are you so afraid of, Daryl? It’s only me.”

And then, he kissed you. Because it’s not “only” you, it’s because of you. You were everything. So despite bubbling anxiety that rises in his throat, he did it, he put his lips to yours and did it accidently so much more harshly than he should have, but he did it. He was honest. He was real. Because even if he didn’t say it yet, he loved you too. You almost cried when it happened. Nothing ever felt that right. As he lets go, you have so much to say but you’re speechless. All you could do is take the chance he gave you— you kissed him back, again and again.

Another one of his favorite places to kiss is behind houses Kisses behind houses were for a quick session or during the moments he’d be leaving for a trip. Sometimes the things he had to do meant there was a possibility of him dying, and while there were times that you’d journey with him, there were other times when you were needed elsewhere whether at home or on a journey of your own. This meant goodbye kisses. Passionate but bittersweet.

These are the moments he wishes more than ever that fucked you— he means had sex with you– he’s a gentleman— the night before, just in case he didn’t come back. Most of the time he cannot even think about kids. This world is crazy, and he enjoyed his freedom far too much, but there were moments, like when he thought about how he couldn’t see life without you that he did wonder about legacy, about a domestic life with you, or, if he did die, to at least leave you with a piece of him and the love you build together. But then other times he thinks, fuck, no; he always comes back and he’d never want to leave you to do something as big as raise a child on your own– you liked your freedom too, and he liked being an uncle. Either way, it was a fleeting feeling anyhow, but it did make him feel like a gross guy sometimes. Not only because he had never spoken to you about the future yet and didn’t know what you want, but especially during the times where he thinks, damn, he should have turned you over onto your stomach last night, give you something you’d really remember him by, but truly, if one likes sex, these thoughts are that one has sometimes… no one can blame him, he’s just a 40-something-year old girl, after all.

Daryl also likes taking you into the woods for a hunt or taking you on his motorcycle to find a good place to kiss. He is obsessed with privacy. He wants to feel free to be himself. And even though he does feel like he can with the core group, the real him around them is not the same as when he is the real him around you– the one who is your boyfriend and partner, the him who can also be a romantic and sexual being when you two are alone. Almost no one knows him like that and he’s never been in a rush to share or talk about his experiences. He’s not like Rick, he feels, that kind of effortless shifting between roles Rick has about him, not afraid to be open, communicative, affectionate about different areas of his life with friends. In some ways he will always still feel new to all this romance stuff, therefore, he likes to keep it to himself. So yes, sometimes since the group thinks they all have the right to walk into each other’s houses whenever they feel like it— (Daryl is actually the main culprit of this since he has had free dinners and slept in most of their couches and basements than anyone else, but we wont talk about that now)—you have made out or had sex in quite a few different places.

Moving back to the sweeter stuff, Daryl also loves forehead kisses. Giving them and reviving them. But if he was receiving he only liked it when you two were alone. In fact, he likes any kissing only when you’re alone anyway, but especially so to any kissing or affection that look super domestic. Daryl doesn’t try to look cool, but he also doesn’t need the public to know he has more emotions and ways of nurturing that people in town don’t need to know of. He doesn’t consciously consider himself a mysterious person but, ever since most people started generally liking him and talking to him– which he equally found as both pretty nice and weird– he realized he covets the fact that there are still some people who were shy, confused, or on edge by his presence. He doesn’t totally get it and sometimes he’s confused by other people’s confusion but he likes that it means he has some sort of control. You think about how people treat him versus how he is with Rick or the kids in town, or you are hilarious. People think he’s the guy who gets it done or that he’s domineering or both, and he is those things, but he’s also just a massive teddy bear that likes caring for people while also not liking people. It's the most interesting paradox.

Lastly, here is Daryl’s favorite kiss. It was one you had given him. He said it. He finally told you. You had told him a story of how someone left you, how much it hurt, how hard it is to know you’ll never get to talk to them again, to settle things, to let go the proper way now that you’re in this new world. So, in return, to make you feel less alone and to finally get it out, he told you that sometimes Meryl only ever told him he loved him when he got hurt. He told you that it felt like Meryl picked the times that cared for him, cared for him like brother should and not just sidekick or accomplice, that it was those instances and others things that had happened to him in his past with his dad or with the group in the beginning of all of this, is what made him feel he was unlovable. So many other things came out after that and even through the shock, you could see everything he said happening to him, it made sense, and your heart broke for him.

This time, you move your hand to his, you beckon him closer. Your fingers trail down his face after placing a piece of his hair to the side, caressing his. You tell him, “I’ve never had a friend like you. I’ve never had a love like you. I love you all the time. You’re always worthy.” And with that, you seal your words with a kiss.

That was when he truly knew he liked kissing. He learned what it could actually mean and feel like when it happens with someone so perfect for you— the true peace and romance of it all. He had never experienced something more beautiful.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

im sorry if this is too personal a question.

but how did you manage to transition so well? is there a secret to it? im too scared to take my first step and i don't know where to start.

-a trans guy

I choose my camera angles very carefully.

A glib reply, but it's the truth. What I put out here is a crafted persona to make myself feel better about the shortcomings of my own transition. And myself, really. We all feel scared and insecure, even those of us who transition "well". The first step is still the hardest. Mine was at rock bottom, my depression and hoarding exacerbated to where I was starting to live (just exist, really) in squalor. I had no money for transition, but after selling a few things and finding a new job, found some after all. There's ways to make it work. A local LGBT center who can refer you to a therapist or doctor, some local community. Other online trans folks who can direct you to informed consent clinics, or explain how they got their paperwork done. Facebook groups about top surgery where folks of all genders share their fears and euphoria. There's no one place to start. Maybe it's trying on a new name or pronouns in a safe place for a while. New clothes or a haircut. Or maybe it's leaping into the fire and starting on T as soon as you can. It boils down to what makes you feel safe and what you need to keep going. It'll be tough, to learn that some of the people in your life life have a love that is conditional and you never knew. It's tough being vulnerable and running into people who are repulsed by that. Some folks will set impossible standards, where you can never transition slow enough for them. And it's tough still having to do all the other things you need to in life, like wake up and go to work, feed yourself properly, clean the house. Remember to be kind to yourself. Sometimes that means waiting until morning to wash the dishes, and sometimes that means cleaning them right away because you know your tendency to let things slide. But the good tends to outweigh the bad. You'll find confidence you never knew you had, you will. Don't shut yourself away. You'll find new people who share your morals, and discover that some folks who have always been in your life will always have your back. Some might even surprise you in a good way. You'll find yourself smiling at your reflection more and more. And weirdly, what seemed out of reach will become mundane in an amazing, wonderful way. And you'll find yourself thinking more about the future as something that you can control, rather than something that just happens to you. You'll probably learn new things about yourself along the way, too, be it about your gender, your sexuality, or really anything under the sun.

And you might find yourself writing to help out someone who was where you were nearly 30 years ago.

Take care. You probably know already what you need to do. <3

[johnbrand]

First Session

As a therapist, Jay understood that trust was key, that was why he was currently lounging back into the fainting couch as his client entered the room. Fairly short, pudgy, and deemed “hardly enticing” by an ex-boyfriend, Jay knew he did not come off as intimidating. But this trick of letting his client play the therapist-role during their first session had yet to fail him. So as he watched the tall, young, muscular male approach, Jay’s confidence did not once sway.

“Doctor?” the client’s voice held arrogance and lacked maturity.

“Michael,” Jay extended a hand, noting a smirk emerging from Michael’s face as his meaty mitt enveloped the therapist’s. While the jock was dressed in the local university’s gear, Jay was currently displaying one of his finest suits. “Jay will do just fine.”

“Alright, Jay,” Michael replied, testing it out. “Where would you like me to sit?”

I ushered him to the chair: “For our first session, I like to have clients take on my role. Learn more about me, get to know my background. Trust is a two-way street after all.”

A cocky weight befell the jock’s tone. “So I can ask about anything?”

Jay nodded. Michael took a moment before continuing, “Well I can see why you went into this line of work. The kinds of people you cure must trust an attractive guy like you to fix them.” 

Jay was not sure how to respond. For a second he wondered if Michael was trying to deploy some sort of superiority tactic. But Jay was being too hard on himself. He had fostered his share of boyfriends over the years. His sharp, angular face was typically enough to at least get his clients' attention. Maybe Jay’s pretty privilege did help him with his work.

“You’ll have to share your workout plan with me too. You look better than half the guys on the team,” Michael added.

Jay felt a little uncomfortable. Had he ever visited a gym before? Sure his body looked great. The chiseled abs and wide shoulders gave his torso a very athletic shape. But it felt strange to admit that Jay worked out that much, even if he could recall countless memories going to the gym and exercising. Jay took a moment to refocus back onto his client. If Michael really wanted to know his routine for a great body, he would be happy to oblige.

“I guess guys our size have to be this big, right? We were practically born for the brawn.” Jay smiled politely at Michael, his eyeline adjusting momentarily. He was probably right though, being 6’3 meant either being skinny as a rail or built like a bull, and Jay preferred the latter. “It’s great that you dress as casually as you are too, it really reflects that personality.”

“To be honest, formal options for guys our size are just way too expensive. Even for me.” Jay chuckled, flashing his signature white teeth framed by a perfect beard. It is also a great way to flex my physique, Jay thought inwardly. His short-sleeved button-down left nothing to the imagination, with meaty arms stretching the seams and the tops of his hairy pecs leading the viewer down towards his ample crotch. Venturing further, one could trace Jay's thick, long legs all the way down to his sizable bare feet. “If I wouldn’t have known any better, Michael, I would have thought that was a compliment.”

“Bet you get those a lot from your clients,” Michael grinned. “The fags probably love spending time alone with a real man.”

Jay paused, his interest suddenly alerted. “What do you mean by that?”

Michael’s response reeked of innocence. “Oh, sorry I thought you were a therapist-”

“I am.” Jay's interruption was firm.

“-a conversion therapist,” Michael finished with a snarl. “Isn’t it your job to bring those sissies back to manhood. Classic, old-fashioned masculinity? I'd think you'd be pretty proud of it too.”

Jay remained still for a moment, frozen. Then, as if the answer had magically appeared, he replied: “Yes, you are correct, and I have yet to have anything but success. Although judging by this session, it appears you will not be added to that list.”

Michael chuckled, “So those studies really did allow you to sniff out a proper alpha. I’m really here just to scout you out, get your vibe before sending a classmate of mine your way. He needs to be ‘straightened out,’ if you catch my drift.”

“I’d be happy to,” Jay’s brilliant smile appeared once more, now broadcasting a more sinister, malicious bite.

Michael rose, “Good, I’ll be in contact with you shortly.”

“Thank you for your time, Michael.” The therapist did not get up from his position, instead cockily adjusting himself into a more enticing, predatory pose. “On your way out, would you mind sending the next client in?”

“I’d be more than happy too.”

[laneywrld]

warm, buttery, and soft | Lewis Hamilton

request: I have a LH44 request! So, I’m a BCBA, I work with children who have autism and my dream is have my own clinic one day. I have a request where maybe Lewis is with a BCBA, who has her own practice, maybe with a back story of how they met at a charity event for her grand opening? Maybe he decided to venture out his charitable contributions and became interested in what she does? Romance, all the feels :)

word count: 2.3k

warnings: none

Lewis had more money than he knew what to do with.

He'd still accept it graciously, but he couldn't help but feel that he could be doing more with the funds he'd earned. He always felt as if he could offer his many resources to many different causes.

He had started mission 44, and still, he felt like he wasn't doing enough.

Lewis had always been driven by a deep desire to make a meaningful impact in the world. After years of dedication to his passion projects, he felt it was time to expand the reach of Mission 44, his organization dedicated to empowering underserved communities. He wanted to invest in something truly transformative, and it was a conversation with an old friend that set him on the right path.

One evening, over a cup of coffee, his friend Michael shared a heartfelt story about his autistic son, Josiah. "There's this incredible clinic," Michael said, his eyes lighting up. "It's run by Y/N, a BCBA. Her work with autistic children has been nothing short of miraculous for us. Jojo has made so much progress thanks to her."

Intrigued, Lewis asked for more details. Michael explained how Y/N's clinic provided personalized therapy and support, creating a nurturing environment where children like Josiah could thrive. It was a place of hope and transformation, and it resonated deeply with Lewis's vision for Mission 44.

Determined to learn more, Lewis arranged a visit to the clinic. When he arrived, he was immediately struck by the warm and welcoming atmosphere. The walls were adorned with colorful artwork created by the children, and the air was filled with laughter and a sense of purpose.

Sadly, you weren't there when he arrived. Lewis really wanted to connect with you. But you were certain to make sure he was taken care of in your absence.

As Lewis toured the facility, he saw firsthand the incredible progress the children were making. Therapists and staff members were deeply engaged, using innovative techniques to support the children's development. It was clear that this was more than just a clinic—it was a community of care and compassion.

Inspired by what he had seen, Lewis knew he had found the perfect partner for Mission 44. He decided to invest in your clinic, providing the resources needed to expand your reach and impact. Together, you two envisioned opening new branches in underserved areas, ensuring that more children and families could benefit from the transformative care you and your team provided.

With this partnership, Mission 44 took a significant step forward, amplifying its mission to empower and uplift. Lewis was filled with a sense of purpose and fulfillment, knowing that your combined efforts would create a brighter future for countless children and families.

And so, with a shared vision and unwavering dedication, Lewis and you embarked on a journey to bring hope, healing, and empowerment to the world, one child at a time.

And this was all without ever meeting each other.

You were a busy woman, and when you did have free time, it was spent with your kids. Your kids being the children you work with of course. So tonight was meant to be special. An ordeal that certainly meant a lot to you.

You would be meeting Sir Lewis Hamilton for the very first time in person. The two of you had communicated over the phone and through emails, but you had not had the chance to sit with him face-to-face, until tonight.

It'd been a year since this endeavor started, and already, the funding Lewis provided had shown its hand and made your mission all the more achievable.

Tonight, you were having a gala.

You were against the idea initially, telling your assistant to reconvene with Lewis' team. You wanted funds to help autistic children, you wanted an event that reflected that.

But Lewis came up with a good point, you wanted to ask a bunch of rich people to invest in you and your goals, to do that, you had to speak to them in a language that they understood, money.

So here you were, a beautiful gown adorning your frame, that was much too elegant and flashy than what you were used to.

You were standing off to the side, watching as the team organized the smaller details. Your hands are placed in front of you, fingers fidgeting with the others as you will your nerves away.

This was not your scene. You weren't used to the flashy life nor did you care for it, so the fact that you would be surrounded by millionaires and a select few billionaires and people with status simply because of your business ties with such a prominent figure in the world of money and fame, well it made you nervous.

Lewis arrived at the clinic a few minutes early, feeling a mix of anticipation and curiosity. He had seen pictures of you online and read about your remarkable work, but nothing could have prepared him for the moment he saw you in person.

From across the hallway, he saw you before you noticed him. The pictures did you no justice. You were more beautiful than any photograph could capture. Your presence was radiant, your smile warm and genuine. Lewis couldn't help but be captivated by your grace and the effortless way you carried herself. He was about to approach you when the door to your left swung open.

In poured a group of children, dressed in colorful gowns and suits, their faces beaming with excitement. Lewis watched as your eyes widened with delight and your lips spread into a grin wider than the universe. The children, your clients, rushed to surround you, their joy palpable. Some stayed a little further back, shy but eager to be close to you.

Lewis stood back, observing the scene. He saw the way you interacted with each child, your demeanor filled with kindness and understanding. You bent down to their level, speaking softly to those who needed it, and laughed with those who were more exuberant. You were careful and considerate, aware of each child's unique needs and sensitivities due to their autism.

One little girl tugged at your sleeve, and you responded with a gentle touch and a few whispered words that brought a smile to the girl's face. A boy who had been standing off to the side finally mustered the courage to step forward, and you greeted him with the same warmth and attention, making him feel just as special as the rest.

Lewis was moved by the sight. It wasn't just your beauty that struck him now, but the depth of your compassion and the genuine love you had for these children. He realized that your work was more than a profession; it was a calling, a true testament to your character.

As the children slowly dispersed, you stood up and finally noticed Lewis. Your eyes met, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. You approached him with that same radiant smile, extending your hand in greeting.

"Hi, you must be Lewis," you said, your voice as warm as your smile.

Lewis took your hand, feeling a spark of connection. "Yes, that's me. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Y/N. Your work here is incredible."

Your eyes twinkled with gratitude. "Thank you, Lewis. I'm glad you're here. This wouldn't have been possible without your support. Can I show you what we have so far?"

Lewis accepts, walking with you as you point out the many attractions for your guest. As you walk, you speak more to Lewis about your work, your passion for your work evident in your every word. You explained how you had started the clinic with the goal of providing comprehensive, individualized care for autistic children. "Each child is unique," you said, "and we tailor our approach to meet their specific needs. It's about helping them reach their full potential. Most of all, showing them unconditional love and acceptance."

"I think you're doing an amazing job." Lewis compliments, "Can I ask, why autistic children? What made this your dream?"

You let out a chuckle, "You ever read those books about the pig, Mercy Watson? She goes crazy over buttered toast?"

Lewis laughs and shakes his head, "Can't say I have."

"Well, in these books, there's a talking pig who does a lot of crazy stuff really for buttery toast. I used to read these books to my brother. He was obsessed with them. I used to just read them to him over and over every night, thinking, you know, of course, a story about a pig causing absolute destruction for food would entertain a boy." As you talk, you're waving your hands around, describing the elaborate storyline of the children's book.

"Anyways, my brother was autistic, high functioning, but you know there were still things that made him different than others, ways that he couldn't fit in no matter what, and I grew to realize okay, this book has to be his hyper fixation, like he doodled Mercy Watson everywhere. Or like cute little toast, and for a while, all he ate was toast for weeks." You chuckle, and Lewis laughs with you.

"Then one day, I'm a freshman in high school, and my brother has started his first day of middle school, and he just, it was bad for him, so bad. And I wanted to help, so I tried to read the books for him and he just got angry and said it wasn't true, and I was left trying to figure out what he meant. It bothered me for so long, I spent weeks rereading those books, you hear me, weeks."

You look distressed as you recant the memory and Lewis can only imagine how frantic you were when it actually happened.

"And then it just clicked for me. The buttery toast isn't fucking toast. The damn toast is a feeling. Warm, soft, and buttery. Mercy Watson is a pig. She feels buttery with her family and warm, cozy, and accepted. It's a feeling she's chasing. And maybe I'm wrong, but to him, the book highlighted his need to be accepted, to feel community. My brother deserved to be loved for who he was, unconditionally."

"Is that why you have so many piglet paintings in your clinic?"

You let out a laugh that starts from a snort. "Yeah. My little piggies."

"You've got a beautiful heart, you know that?"

"Thank you." You drop your head as if to hide your shyness from the man.

As they walked through the clinic, Lewis couldn't shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something extraordinary.

"You should let me take you out to dinner, discuss more on how to get the toast to all of the little piglets in the world, and maybe discuss another dinner, too?"

"I'd love that."

Three years had passed since that charity gala for your clinic, the night you first met Lewis. You remember how he approached you with a warm smile, expressing his admiration for your work. He had insisted on taking you out for dinner, and that evening turned into many more, each one deepening the connection between you.

Now, you stand in the nursery, a gentle smile on your lips as you admire the freshly painted walls. Small, cute little piglets dance across the pale yellow background, a whimsical design that Lewis insisted on because he remembered how you loved piggies, a love sparked by your brother's fondness for the book that changed your outlook on life.

The room is filled with the promise of new life, a testament to the love that has blossomed between you.

You gently place a hand on your growing belly, feeling the fluttering movements of your baby. The thought of becoming parents fills you with a mixture of excitement and wonder. Lewis walks into the room, his eyes lighting up as they meet yours. He crosses the room in a few strides and places a tender kiss on your forehead, his hand joining yours on your belly.

"You’re going to be the best mom," he says, his voice filled with admiration. "I can’t wait to meet our little one."

Lewis has always seen you as the sweetest soul in the world. Your compassion, kindness, and unwavering dedication to your work and family have captured his heart completely. He often tells you that being with you feels like coming home—warm, soft, and buttery, just like toast. It's the only feeling you've ever had when it comes to Lewis: a deep, comforting love that fills every corner of your life.

Your relationship with Lewis is a harmonious blend of mutual admiration and profound affection. He has not only embraced you but also formed a close bond with your brother. Lewis took the time to understand your brother’s world, it was a connection that brought you immense joy and deepened your love for Lewis.

As you and Lewis stand in the nursery, imagining the future with your child, you feel a profound sense of contentment. Engaged and set to be married in a year, your journey together has been nothing short of extraordinary.

"I love you," you whisper to Lewis, feeling the baby move beneath your hands.

"I love you too," he replies, his eyes shining with emotion. "And I love our little family, more than words can say."

At that moment, surrounded by the playful piglets on the walls and the warmth of Lewis's embrace, you feel a sense of completeness. Your love story is like toast—warm, soft, and buttery—filling your life with sweetness and comfort. It's a love that grows even stronger with each passing day and a warmth that spreads just the same.

oh my god, i loved this request, and a huge thank you for you and the work you do, this hit very close to home, and I loved writing every word of it!! also, I'm not really good at writing anything that's not angsty I don't think. so I apologize in advance for the cringe omg. I tried to make it romantic I really did. 😭

[estapa-edwards]

"Team Sweetheart" and "Physical Therapist" are so gorgeous I've reread them both like 10 times! They leave me so full of butterflies I am positively buzzing! May I please make a request with Jack and a girl who has no knowledge/familiarity with hockey, or any sports for that matter? Maybe just them introducing eachother to their interests/worlds as their relationship develops and it's just nice to be with someone a bit removed from what Jack's life is centered around. Idk if that makes sense please ignore this if you don't like it.

CONNECTION - J . HUGHES

paring: Jack Hughes x reader

word count: 2k

requested? yes

warnings: use of y/n.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Jack Hughes walked into the quiet café, eager for a break from the relentless pace of his hockey-centered life. The New Jersey Devils had been having a grueling season, and every moment off the ice felt like a precious escape. The café, tucked away in a corner of downtown Newark, had become his haven. Today, however, he was greeted by an unfamiliar face behind the counter.

“Hi, welcome to Brewed Awakening. What can I get you?” the girl asked with a warm smile. Her name tag read "Y/N."

Jack glanced at the menu, though he already knew what he wanted. “I’ll have a black coffee, please.”

Y/N nodded, her fingers flying over the buttons of the register. “Coming right up. Are you from around here?”

Jack hesitated. Despite his growing fame, he still enjoyed the anonymity of casual encounters. “Yeah, I live nearby. What about you?”

Y/N handed him his change and started preparing his coffee. “I just moved here for school. Trying to get the hang of the city and all.”

Jack smiled. “It’s a great place once you get to know it. What are you studying?”

“Art history. I know, it’s not exactly the most practical major, but it’s my passion,” she said with a slight laugh. “What about you? What do you do?”

Jack paused, unsure of how to respond. “I’m... in sports,” he said vaguely.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his hesitation. “Any particular sport?”

“Hockey,” he admitted. “I play for the New Jersey Devils.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry, I don’t really follow sports. But that sounds impressive!”

Jack chuckled. “That’s okay. It’s actually kind of refreshing to meet someone who isn’t obsessed with hockey.”

Y/N handed him his coffee. “Well, I’m glad I could provide a break from the norm. Enjoy your coffee!”

As Jack took a seat by the window, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of curiosity about Y/N. She was different from anyone he had met in a long time. He found himself looking forward to his next visit to the café.

--- --- --- 

Over the next few weeks, Jack found himself returning to Brewed Awakening more often. Each time, he and Y/N would chat for a few minutes, their conversations growing more personal with each encounter. Jack learned that Y/N was passionate about art, spending her weekends exploring museums and galleries. She, in turn, learned about Jack’s rigorous training schedule and the pressures of professional sports.

One rainy afternoon, Jack entered the café, drenched from practice. Y/N greeted him with a sympathetic smile. “Rough day?”

“Just a long one,” he replied, shaking off his wet jacket. “Do you have a break coming up? I’d love to hear more about this art thing you’re always talking about.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “Actually, I do. Give me five minutes to finish up here.”

A few minutes later, Y/N joined Jack at his table, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. “So, where should I start?”

“Tell me about your favorite artist,” Jack suggested, genuinely curious.

Y/N’s face brightened. “That’s a tough one, but I’d have to say Vincent van Gogh. His work is so emotional and raw. There’s something incredibly moving about the way he saw the world.”

Jack listened intently as Y/N described van Gogh’s turbulent life and vibrant paintings. He found himself captivated by her passion and the way she brought the art to life with her words.

“You should come to the museum with me sometime,” Y/N said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I think you’d really enjoy it.”

Jack smiled. “I’d like that. And maybe I can take you to a hockey game in return?”

Y/N laughed. “Deal. But you’ll have to explain everything to me. I know absolutely nothing about hockey.”

Jack chuckled. “I think I can manage that.”

--- --- --- 

Their first outing together was to the Newark Museum of Art. Jack was out of his element but excited to see the world through Y/N’s eyes. As they wandered through the galleries, Y/N explained the stories behind the paintings and sculptures, her voice filled with excitement and admiration.

“This is one of my favorites,” she said, stopping in front of a large, colorful painting. “It’s called ‘Starry Night Over the Rhône’ by van Gogh. Look at the way the stars and the reflections in the water create this almost dreamlike scene.”

Jack stared at the painting, trying to see it the way Y/N did. “It’s beautiful,” he said finally. “I can see why you like it so much.”

Y/N smiled. “I’m glad you think so. Art has always been a way for me to escape, to see the world differently.”

Jack nodded, understanding more than he expected. “Hockey is like that for me. When I’m on the ice, everything else fades away.”

A few days later, it was Y/N’s turn to step into Jack’s world. She had agreed to attend one of his games, despite her lack of knowledge about hockey. Jack had arranged for her to have a prime seat, and as she settled in, she couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness.

The arena was buzzing with energy, fans cheering and waving signs. Y/N watched in awe as the players took to the ice, their speed and skill mesmerizing. She spotted Jack, his focus intense as he prepared for the game.

Throughout the match, Y/N found herself on the edge of her seat, cheering along with the crowd even though she didn’t fully understand the rules. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride every time Jack made a play, his talent and dedication evident in every move.

After the game, Jack met her outside the locker room, still in his gear and grinning from ear to ear. “So, what did you think?”

“It was amazing!” Y/N exclaimed. “I had no idea hockey could be so intense. You were incredible out there.”

Jack laughed, relieved that she had enjoyed herself. “I’m glad you liked it. Maybe we can make a fan out of you yet.”

Y/N smiled. “Maybe. But only if you keep coming to art galleries with me.”

“Deal,” Jack agreed, feeling a warmth spread through him. Despite their different worlds, he felt a connection with Y/N that he hadn’t felt with anyone else.

--- --- --- 

​​As the weeks turned into months, Jack and Y/N grew closer, finding comfort in their contrasting interests. They delighted in introducing each other to new experiences, each outing deepening their bond.

One sunny Saturday, Jack found himself at a local art supply store with Y/N. She was on a mission to find the perfect set of watercolors for a new project. Jack followed her through the aisles, amused by her enthusiasm.

"Do you paint?" Jack asked, curious.

"I dabble," Y/N replied with a grin. "Mostly for fun, though. It’s a great way to relax and let my mind wander."

Jack picked up a brush, twirling it between his fingers. "Maybe you could teach me sometime. I’ve never really done anything like this."

Y/N’s eyes lit up. "I’d love to! It’s really not about being perfect, just about expressing yourself."

A few days later, Y/N set up a makeshift studio in her apartment, covering the table with newspapers and setting out a variety of paints and brushes. Jack arrived, looking both excited and apprehensive.

"Ready to become the next Van Gogh?" Y/N teased, handing him a canvas.

Jack laughed. "I think that might be a stretch, but I’m ready to give it a shot."

As they painted side by side, Y/N offered gentle guidance, encouraging Jack to experiment with colors and shapes. Despite his initial uncertainty, Jack found himself enjoying the process. It was a welcome change from the structured, high-pressure world of hockey.

"You’re a natural," Y/N said, admiring Jack’s painting of a snowy landscape.

Jack shook his head with a chuckle. "I think you’re just being nice, but thanks. This is actually really fun."

Y/N smiled, pleased to see Jack so relaxed. "See? I knew you’d enjoy it."

Their relationship continued to flourish, each new experience bringing them closer together. Jack took Y/N to more games, patiently explaining the rules and strategies. Y/N, in turn, took Jack to more art exhibits and even a few art classes.

One evening, after a particularly thrilling game, Jack and Y/N found themselves at a quiet diner, sharing a plate of fries. Jack looked at Y/N, feeling a surge of gratitude.

"You know, I never thought I’d enjoy learning about art so much," Jack admitted. "But being with you has opened my eyes to so many new things."

Y/N reached across the table, squeezing his hand. "And I never thought I’d enjoy sports, but you’ve made it so much fun. It’s nice to have someone to share these experiences with."

Jack smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Despite their different backgrounds, they had found a way to connect on a profound level. It was a rare and precious thing, and Jack knew he wanted to hold onto it.

--- --- ---

As their relationship grew stronger, Jack and Y/N began to face the challenges that came with their differing worlds. Jack’s demanding schedule often kept them apart, and Y/N’s art exhibitions sometimes took her to different cities.

One evening, after a particularly grueling week of practice and games, Jack called Y/N, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I miss you," he admitted. "It feels like we haven’t seen each other in ages."

Y/N sighed, feeling the distance keenly. "I miss you too. It’s hard, but we’ll get through it. How about we plan something special for next weekend? Just us."

Jack’s spirits lifted at the thought. "That sounds perfect. Let’s go somewhere quiet, away from everything."

The following weekend, they escaped to a cabin in the woods, a peaceful retreat where they could unwind and reconnect. They spent their days hiking through the forest, cooking meals together, and sitting by the fire, talking about everything and nothing.

One evening, as they sat on the porch, watching the sunset, Jack took Y/N’s hand. "I’m really glad we’re doing this," he said softly. "It’s exactly what I needed."

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder. "Me too. It’s nice to just be us, without all the noise."

As they sat in comfortable silence, Jack realized how much Y/N meant to him. She had become his anchor, a source of joy and calm in his hectic life. He knew their relationship wasn’t always easy, but he was willing to face any challenge as long as they were together.

With the hockey season winding down, Jack finally had more time to spend with Y/N. They began to talk about their future, their conversations filled with excitement and hope.

One sunny afternoon, they found themselves at a local park, lying on a blanket and watching the clouds drift by. Jack turned to Y/N, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Have you ever thought about what comes next for us?" he asked.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "I think about it all the time. I want us to keep exploring new things together, to keep supporting each other’s passions."

Jack nodded, feeling a sense of certainty. "I want that too. And I want you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what. Your dreams are just as important as mine."

Y/N reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Jack’s face. "And I’m here for you, always. We’ll figure it out together."

As they lay there, hand in hand, Jack knew they were embarking on a new chapter of their lives. It wouldn’t always be easy, but with Y/N by his side, he felt ready for anything. They had built a strong foundation, one based on mutual respect and a genuine love for each other’s worlds. And as they looked towards the future, they knew that together, they could face whatever came their way.

[sophie-frm-mars]

Hi, ex-supporter here. Genuinely hope you’re doing well. I have been tempted to start up my support again because you genuinely are a talented writer/creator and I do enjoy your work.

I hope you understand supporting your Patreon is somewhat fraught. Your private life should be none of our business, but sadly it is relevant here. Moral action, both private and political is central to your work; you have called out plenty of people for abuse & morality drives your politics. We know abuse took place on your end, but that’s all.

A lot of people like myself might be emotionally rooting for you to bounce back from this, but are unable to support you right now because that moral dissonance has not been resolved. We really don’t know if you are like other ‘cancelled’ leftist influencers and just use leftist values to deflect attention away from abuse, or you are actually trying to do better and working on yourself.

You don’t owe us anything. However, many of us who are eager to support you are forced to hold back because trust has been damaged, and there has not been any real sign of reparation or reconciliation. Maybe you think those kind of questions are invasive, maybe you don’t think we are real fans for not sticking by you despite the allegations.

I don’t know, I just want you to know that there are plenty of people who do want to support you, but feel they need to trust you first. And that can’t happen without addressing some things.

Anyways, best wishes. Take care.

Hiya, thank you for speaking to me on this.

Before I say the rest of what I say I want to be clear that between me and the people I was involved with in 2023, there were some instances where I was responsible for harm, there were instances where I received harm and there was also a general pervasive ecosystem of harmful behaviours in the community I was in. This includes people who signed the statement against me, and in one instance one of them did something which everyone to whom I have described it has agreed is sexual assault, though there is more besides.

For the time being I'm not talking publicly more about what happened because it was a very messy situation, and although I have been seriously harmed by issues in my personal life being litigated in public in this way, I don't want to give my full account of my relationships with everyone involved because I don't want that type of harm to be done to other trans women. There are plenty of complicating factors as there often are in real life that social media isn't really capable of parsing. I have made it clear repeatedly that I am open to hearing anything that people involved want to say to me, and I talked in this post in January about that and about what I would be doing to ensure that I put in the work and make sure I don't cause harm like it again

https://x.com/sophie_frm_mars/status/1745414530455261531

I think that that post says everything I would like to say for now, although I regret saying I agree that my behaviour was abusive, because with more distance and perspective I don't think abusive behaviour was actually described to me.

As I understand it via the support that my therapist and friends have offered, my problems in 2023 were that: I wasn't taking my mental health seriously, I didn't learn good kink practice, I had very little appreciation of my own boundaries and when I shouldn't be doing something that someone asks me to do, and I was high basically all the time. I am in therapy and doing DBT and taking my mental health deadly seriously, I have done a huge amount of reading assigned by my therapist about kink, sex, relationships and mental health, I am working in an ongoing way on learning how to effectively communicate, know my boundaries and understand myself well enough to not be in the kinds of situations that risk harm, and I'm no longer high all the time.

(If anyone is interested in those book recs, so far I've read: Tomorrow Sex Will Be Good Again by Katherine Angel; The Right To Sex by Amia Srinivasan; Screw Consent (I hate this edgy title) by Joseph Fischel; Playing Well With Others; The Loving Dominant by John and Libby Warren; I Hope We Choose Love by Kai Cheng Thom; The New Topping Book by Dossie Easton and Janet W Hardy; and Dissociation Made Simple by Jamie Marich. There have been some others, and I've written a bit about them in the book club channel on my discord as I've been reading)

I haven't heard from the people involved. The last I heard from anyone was one of my exes calling me a pathological liar and saying that they just want to move on with their lives, so while I'm doing the work to make sure I act better in future I am just trying to get on with my life and let them get on with theirs. I hope this clarifies why I have not talked further about the situation.

I will say that the last few months have been hellish for me. I have been frequently suicidal, I spent Christmas and new years alone, I lost a tooth because I couldn't afford proper dental treatment, people from within the community I've been ostracised from have been putting pressure on my remaining friends to cut ties with me, Keffals had my abuser on her twitch stream, a bizarre exaggerated and monsterised version of my personal life has been publicly gossiped about by trans people, fash and "leftist" drama streamers alike, I have been doing other work to make sure I can still pay rent and afford my bills and my HRT, and to survive. As I've been getting more stable and more able to focus on things besides this, I've been working on new writing because all I want with regard to my work and my channel is for my writing to help people. I don't want to talk about my private life, but I do understand that some number of people will feel after what has been said about me that they can't move forward with me without hearing the full details. Lots of people in my life have repeatedly encouraged me to publish a full account of everything that happened but I know how the Internet works and I don't want other trans women to be harmed in the ways that I have been harmed.

[loneberry]

For a certain kind of person — the person who, usually, strives to be a responsible parent, a sensitive friend, an upright citizen, a person who tries to care about their community — it can be impossible not to succumb to the incessant urge to mimic someone else’s supposed balance and feeling of wellness in life. What do we even know about them really?

I’m increasingly seeing this in my work as a therapist in New York City. So are my colleagues. One said to me recently that he was tired of listening to his patients talk about the impossible advice inhaled on Instagram and TikTok — to say nothing of the self-help industry. “Doesn’t anyone come asking to be more free?” he exclaimed. “They don’t,” I said pessimistically. “Everyone wants to make the right decisions.” The problem is it’s very hard to tell someone that pursuing the abstract question of “right and wrong” ways to live will lead you into a cul-de-sac. It avoids the deeper question of desire, and desire is a compass.

The promised image of goodness skirts pleasures that — for obscure reasons — you aren’t sure you can want. I see patients grow fearful when they can’t tell if what they desire is compulsive — just another rote, maybe addictive, behavior, or a real attempt to test the boundaries they live under. How do you locate free will in a world this compulsory? Unsettling desires challenge our perception of who we are and what life might look like. ...

My patients have spent time on the couch struggling with the joys and pains that come with their wish to take drugs, not to expand consciousness but just because; quit their job, not to re-evaluate life but simply to stop working (along with the bonus pleasure of thumbing their nose at their employers); or give in to an irksome captivation with the wrong person at the absolutely wrong time. ...

These pursuits certainly aren’t what you ought to do — much less post about — and yet I find that it’s when we dwell on our secret enjoyments that we learn the most about ourselves. Sexual and aggressive feelings, veering self-destructive, are finally confronted without the veneer of rationalization.

--Jamieson Webster, "I Don’t Need to Be a ‘Good Person.’ Neither Do You."

[hamletteprinceofdenmark]

Transcript of Shelby's Video:

CW: Abuse

:readmore:

Hello! I don't know if you can even hear it, I put on, like, light jazz in the background because it seemed awkward being quiet, but I don't think you can hear it, so I'm just gonna turn it off. Um, hello! Um, welcome! We are in emote only because I'm just gonna be talking today, and then I'm gonna go! I'm gonna go!

Um, yeah, it was very, very low. There's, there's no need. I just, it felt weird leaving you in silence, but I'm here, so — Hello! Um, I want to talk about something today that, um, very nervous. I feel sweaty. I had a sweater on, I had to take it off. Um, I'm gonna try and just, I wrote down pretty much everything I think that I want to say to keep track of, sort of all the points that I want to make sure I don't forget anything. So I will be reading from something, um, a good portion of the time, but not 100 percent of the time. Um, and I just wanted to make sure I got all of my thoughts down in words ahead of time. I'm, I really like writing down my thoughts. So I did that.

Um, oh, hold on. Can I turn ads off? I think that maybe we turn ads off today. How do I make that happen for just today? Um. Shoulda had that already. I shoulda had that already. I actually don't even know how to make that happen. You know what? That's just gonna have to be that way. I'm so sorry.

Um. I'm all good. Um, yeah, okay. Today's just gonna be talking. Uh, I'm just gonna start reading from what I wrote, and go from there.

I have a really big coffee, I'm gonna take a swig. And I have my water, and I'm gonna take a swig of that.

I have always liked telling my different experiences that I've had, um, in dating because it feels important to me to share what I've learned and maybe help other people to not make the same mistakes that I have before. I'm 30. I've dated a lot. I've gone on a lot of dates. I keep trying, um, and it's unfortunate that a lot of my dating history, uh, there were a lot of bad people that tried to manipulate or control me, um, but that's not to say that every person that I've dated has treated me poorly. Um, some people just weren't the right people.

Um, and speaking out about my bad experiences has never felt as important as it does right now because silence has always brought me peace. And this time it feels like my silence is not keeping my peace. It's only keeping somebody else's peace. Um, and I never thought that I could be the kind of person to end up in a situation like I did. I'd never thought that could happen to me.

And so for me, this is important because it could help anybody else see the signs sooner than I did. Um, or hopefully avoid a similar situation entirely. Because the, the truth is it was dangerous. Um, there were a lot of things wrong in this relationship that, um, I endured some pretty terrible treatment. Um, and I might touch on some things here and there about that. But, um, if I feel like it's important to the overall context. But what I want to stay focused on is this specific issue, um, and the things that happened matter-of-factly and the things that people saw and witnessed in our circle.

Um, it took me 10 months after to heal. And I spoke with multiple therapists and tried different forms of therapy. Um, I tried somatic therapy. That one was actually really good for me. Um, because that one actually helped me release a lot of, um, built up anger I was having over the last year. Um, but the anger that I was feeling was for myself because, um, I felt like I should have known better.

I felt so stupid at myself for, um, sort of just staying through all of this. Um, and I shared my story with a lot of friends after I started talking to therapists and I was like "So, this thing happened ... and I wasn't really sure ... It just seems weird now to me looking back," and all of them told me exactly what was happening in the words that I was too afraid to use.

Um, and I was being hurt in my last relationship. And it took me all of that time to see it through that lens. Um, I even posted an anonymous story to Reddit that I have now deleted with an anonymous account. But in posting that, I found a dozen other stories that were exactly like mine, exactly the same way. Um, and all of the comments said exactly the same thing.

Um, and I was so mad at myself because I was lying to, um, at a certain point to protect this person, because I knew that if I told my friends the truth, it'd make him look really bad. Um, I didn't think that I would cry and I practiced saying all of this and I didn't cry, but it's easier to practice it when no one is listening.

Um, but he always cared more about how it looked and that was really important, not what was true. Um, and it was really subtle. When I hear about, um, when I hear about physical abuse, I think of hitting. I think of hitting and punching, um, so I thought that this wasn't violent enough, um, to be abuse. Uh, I thought that it was just like a constant accident that he kept hurting me. Um, but he's not hitting me and it didn't start as something that he did to hurt me.

Uh, he had this habit of biting, which is so weird to me now, but he said that he had had this habit since he was a kid. And even his mom said that that was true. And he said it was just affectionate and that that might have been — I mean, I think that that might have been true, maybe, at the start, but I also feel that I have good reason to believe that every part of it was a lie, but that's just my personal opinion, um, and I had no problem with just biting, that isn't even the most uncommon thing, um, but he did mention something early that I should have taken as a red flag, um, and he wanted to make sure that I was okay with him biting me because he didn't want me to come back later and say that he abused me. Which I thought was really weird considering he had never hurt me before. And so why would I call it abuse? And why was he thinking about that? And I thought he was being sweet, checking on me to make sure that I was still comfortable. Um, but of course I was because he hadn't hurt me. And why would I think he ever would?

Um, and then he did, for the first time, by accident, uh, and I don't specifically remember the actual first time that he bit me too hard by accident, because I didn't think that it would be significant, um, I thought that it would only happen once, and he started biting me more and more over a period of time, sort of throughout the whole relationship, and accidents of him biting too hard and really hurting me happened more and more frequently, um, but he always seemed genuinely sorry, and he decided that he didn't want to keep accidentally hurting me, um, so we were gonna use a safe word, um, so he could learn where my limit was, where my pain tolerance ended.

Uh, and saying that out loud now doesn't sound — Like, that's not very sound logic. Um, but at the time, I thought he cared about not hurting me. But in reality, it's like, why are you biting so hard? And why do you have to bite so hard? And it shouldn't be that hard of a problem to stop. Um, that shouldn't be that hard.

And he disguised it as this really quirky part of our relationship and was so comfortable sharing it with his friends to the point that he would do it in front of them. He thought it was this really funny story to tell and a good bit to take my arm and bite me in front of everybody until I literally shout in pain. Um, and then I have to laugh it off because I'm so embarrassed and I don't want to cause a scene in front of all of our friends and I'm sure everyone was a little bit uncomfortable, but as long as I was saying that it was fine, nobody really felt like they needed to be concerned and that's not anybody's fault because I was lying. I was lying and it wasn't fine because I would go home later and I'd tell him how uncomfortable I was. How much I didn't like being hurt all the time and I needed him to really stop biting so hard. I didn't like it and I tried telling him over and over again because he wasn't actually trying at all to not hurt me, um, but he said he would try, at first, and then he started saying things like it was my pain tolerance that was too low, or I'm exaggerating how much it actually hurts. He's not even biting that hard. I'm, I'm being dramatic. Um, but his biting escalated to a point where I was covered in bruises all over my arms and they hurt and he would poke at them for fun. And he even felt so comfortable showing off my bruises that he had caused to our friends because he would bite me so hard by accident, "by accident." He would even joke that it looked like he abused me. Um, and eventually he did acknowledge how bad it looked that I was covered in bruises all the time. So he stopped, um, biting my arms as often. And he started biting my legs instead. Um, and it was in the last couple of months of the relationship that every time he bit me, it was until I needed to use this safe word. Um, it had become his benchmark for when to stop.

Only once I was definitely hurt, um, which meant I was being hurt every single day, um, multiple times a day, uh, for all of the days that we spent together in person. And when I asked him to stop again, this time he said, "This is who he is. He isn't going to change." Those were his words. And I remember a lot of, specifically his words about certain things, especially at the end.

Um, because I'm good at remembering words and especially his wording. I became really good at remembering because he was constantly contradicting himself. And I would notice, but most of the time it wasn't worth picking a fight over. And — But he would fight me on it sometimes 'cause I would po- I would point it out and, uh, he would insist that he had never said the thing that he said, he definitely did say. And then he would say something like, "How are you so sure you're remembering correctly? Why are you always right?" Um, and he definitely said the things that I heard him say and other people heard him say.

So, he had, now at this point, weaponized the safe word and was using it to ensure that I was hurt and on a constant basis. And he wasn't sorry anymore. Um, I couldn't even tell you the last time he had apologized for doing it anymore because now sometimes he would bite me and I would yell out the safe word because it hurts so bad and he'd clamp down even harder and, just for a second, just for good measure, before letting go and sometimes I'd say the safe word and he'd grind his teeth down on my skin and sometimes he'd smile after, um, like a gloating grin?

And during this time I was filled with so much anxiety all the time that I was constantly nauseous. Gagging daily, um, on occasion throwing up because of the pit that was in my stomach. I never told him about that though. I was going and running away quietly to throw up in the toilet and rejoin our group of friends.

Um, but I felt so unwanted and ignored. Um, and I would tell him that and then he would reassure me that he wanted to be together and he loved me. He loved me more than I loved him, even. He would always insist that that was true, like the, "I love you." "I love you more," but he was like, really serious about it.

Um, and looking back, I do believe that the way I was swept off my feet at the beginning of this relationship was 100 percent love bombing. Um, and we were friends for a time. Um, at least people would have thought that, actually, but I use the word friend very loosely because, um, we had actually never spoke to each other outside of group chats we were in together when, like a handful of times throughout the, the whole time that we knew each other, um, but did not talk to each other.

So I wouldn't have even called him my friend until he found out I was single, waited a few weeks to reach out, and then we started a friendship and then that friendship turned romantic and then he made these huge romantic gestures. He wrote me the most beautiful love letter that I had ever read. Um, he called me his soulmate. He talked about "forever" one month in. He told me he hadn't been in a relationship in five years. He thought he could never find love again before he met me. He said he wanted someone to grow with. He wanted to be a dad. He had all his names picked out and I didn't have a preference because I — My feeling of it is that the timing is right and with the right person, I could, um, but if that doesn't work out in time or the time, you know, I, I'm not super pressed about it. Um, but I started opening my mind up to the idea with him because it seemed so important to him. And I kept trying to talk to him to figure out where he was, later on, when I could tell things like, were declining.

And, um, now all of a sudden he's telling me he's not sure he wants kids at all. In fact, he has never been attached to the idea of kids. Um, and I told him that isn't what he said before, and he said he's allowed to change his mind. And I'm of the opinion that in a relationship, there are a few things that you are not actually allowed to change your mind without letting your partner know.

I think that kids is one of them. It wasn't even important to me. Um, and I think marriage is one of them, so I brought that up next. And I asked if he still wanted marriage. He said he wanted to marry me. And then he said, now, "I'm not the co-" quote, "I'm not the commitment guy. You know that."

I didn't know that.

Why are you dating me?

In fact, he was telling me the exact opposite every day. Uh, he would tell me he still wanted to be together. He wanted to work on all of the problems. He wanted to, like, he wanted me at the end of everything. He did not want to break up. He made that very clear. And uh, I have though, caught him in lies before, but usually it was small stuff and I, again, I didn't want to, it wasn't anything that ever seemed worth rocking the boat over, uh, which isn't normal for me.

I hate lies. Um, and yet I ended up lying for him. So, uh, but he had lied about big things and he had also been caught lying by his friends numerous times. So this is something that he feels is acceptable to do. And everything reached a breaking point when he was about to leave for an extended period of time.

We were not going to see each other very much, a few days out of every few months, um, and now suddenly he is dumping all of these problems that he has been having feelings about all of this time later. Um, at one point he said he's been feeling this way a couple of months. At another point, he says he's been feeling this way for six months, immediately contradicting him- contradicting himself in the same conversation.

And with no time to do anything about it. I arrived — the one of — Never mind. I'm gonna get to something later, but I literally arrived for three days for this conversation to happen and then leave. Um, my cat just woke up and she's not usually awake right now — Hi, my love. It's really close to her dinner time. I should have fed her early.

Um, so no time to fix any of the problems all the sudden because there are three days before he leaves and he insisted he did not want to break up. He, and so, he was expecting me to have a solution somehow, magically, and I gave a number of solutions that would have a way forward for us to be together, but he refused to make any compromise, um, whatsoever.

And he said that "the relationship was starting to feel like a responsibility," towards the end. Also his words. Um, so it wasn't a responsibility the whole rest of the time to him. And he was at this point, basically flaunting that he would never prioritize me over anything. Um — she's eating my laundry. Please don't cause problems. — Um, and I wasn't even asking for literally even the bare minimum. I was asking for so little and he — I was watching him give exactly what I was needing in the relationship all over the place to anybody else who, who just happened to ask and just wasn't me. So, um, and he also, he was never going to prioritize me over anything that would give him more fame or money.

In fact, he said that himself. He, uh, that was exactly why he was not going to compromise at all for a solution for us to be together. Because he said he wanted to see how much fame and money he could get. Um, and I just thought we wanted to be together. I thought that's what we both wanted, because that's what he was still saying he wanted to.

Um, but then he also admitted to me that he had grown resent- uh, he had grown to resent me. And I have to be thankful that he said that bit out loud. A lot of these bits he said out loud. Because that was the last push that I needed to get myself out.

He had grown resentful, which I also pointed out that there was no reason. Like, there was no reason to feel that way and he admitted that there was no reason for him to feel that way either. I think that it was because I'm someone who can communicate how I feel. Um, but, I don't know, I think, there, I have a lot of theories and reasons why I believe things happen the way that they did and why he was lying all of the time.

Um, but, he was "resentful" of me, was causing me physical harm every day, multiple times a day, despite me telling him over and over again to stop. He wasn't going to change, and he wasn't going to end the relationship. He was going to keep hurting me, and it was possibly going to escalate even further. So I broke up with him.

And I didn't even want to. Um, because I couldn't even see for such a long time after, um, what it really was that had happened. That he had abused me. And, in fact, we left things as, we want to be friends, and he can never imagine not speaking to me again. Um, and then he never spoke to me again. Uh, outside of like a couple of exchanges where I needed to ask for my clothes to be shipped, um, so at least I got my clothes back, uh, I had a whole closet full.

However, uh, he did throw away all of my other things, uh, without saying a word to me about it. Hundreds of dollars of things from my office were trashed without a word, and I didn't block him till ten months later because I wanted an open door still. I really thought I wanted to be his friend. Um, but, uh, I don't feel that way anymore.

I do believe he was bottling up so many emotions, uh, and he would never talk about how he felt. Um, I, I think he even, I mean, he did admit that he felt like he couldn't say it any sooner. Like, there was just no possible way to say how he was feeling sooner than the absolute last possible chance. Like, not even a chance, because three days before he left, that was actually a lie too, also.

He didn't leave for another week after I left. He, he brought me in, had this three day conversation, he was supposed to leave, and then he stayed for another week before he left, uh, with all of the friends that I was also meant to see, but he had lied to me about the dates too.

Um, but I do believe that there, uh, that he was bottling up so many emotions that he was taking it out on me physically. I believe there was a moment where he knew that he didn't want to be in the relationship anymore and instead of just ending it, he tried to push me away any way he knew would hurt me. And he knew all of the ways that would hurt me the most. And he knew he was hurting me. There was no way that he didn't know because of the safe word that he made.

Uh, and he just didn't care. He was hurting me and he didn't care. And even looked like he was enjoying it, sometimes. Um, and I can look back now and I can see all these instances that were really major red flags. Um, there was this one time that he pinned me down and asked me to try my absolute hardest to get him off of me.

And I couldn't do it, obviously. And he said something to make the point that he was so much stronger than me that I wouldn't be able to fight him back. Fight back against what? What do you mean? You don't say shit like that to people? That's insane. Um, and I was also sexually assaulted by my first boyfriend, and he knew that.

Um, he had stopped giving anything to the relationship, and he said that why was because he "was just waiting for things to change on their own." Um, he said he also "didn't have the time or energy anyway to do the things that I was asking for." Um, but then would constantly make any bit of time and energy for anybody and anything but me.

Uh, and he would say he wanted more quality time, so then I would try to arrange things for us to do online because we were, uh, long distance, but then he would complain that he doesn't want to spend all of his time on the computer anymore. Uh, and then we'd be there in person and all he wants to do is stay inside, play games on his computer, watch movies. He doesn't want to go out.

Um, and I'm not saying any of this next part to be mean, um, he lived in filth like I have never seen, and I've seen filth. This was the worst. Uh, he would spill things on the floor and never, literally never clean them up. Uh, he got an ant infestation once, um, and wasn't going to do anything about it because he said, he said "Bugs are normal in British houses," um, so I had to buy Antkiller. And he wouldn't clean his bathroom for months, and months, and months, but would constantly complain about how bad it smelled, and I would tell him, that's mould. It's mould. He complained about being tired all the time too, which I don't know if that was a lie or not, but mould will do that too.

But he would insist that it wasn't, somehow, without having cleaned in months. But it's not mould. Um, when I met him, he was washing his clothes without detergent. Um, just, he wasn't using that at all, and I don't know for how long before I met him. He was just running it with water and then hanging it on his filthy kitchen cabinets.

Um, and I felt bad. I felt bad because I felt like he needed someone to help him learn how to be cleaner. I thought he just didn't know how and I listened to all of the struggles of his upbringing and I was like, "He just doesn't know how. Someone just needs to show him." Um, and then I found out that he said he doesn't clean at all when I'm not there because he just waits for me to get there to do it.

Um, and I only found out about that after we broke up because he said it behind my back. Uh, I was doing all of the cleaning and laundry for him. Also, I had a separate bathroom. I want to make that clear. I wasn't using that bathroom. I had a separate bathroom that I cleaned for myself. I had cleaning supplies. I don't think he even actually knew I had cleaning supplies in there. Um, but I had my own bathroom.

Um, all the, all the cleaning, all the laundry. All of it. I was paying for. All of the, um, like paper towels, like soap, all of that only stayed in the house so long as I was buying it. Um, I would arrive and there would just not be toilet paper in the whole house. There were paper towels instead. And who knows for how long, too.

Um, I was paying for food more than half the time. Uh, because he would often push me into ordering food for us even if I had paid for the last meal, or the meal before that. Um, and I'm of the opinion now that I shouldn't have been paying for any food. Um, none at all, but I wanted to at least, I thought I was being equal by at least doing like a back and forth. Um, but, uh, I ended up paying for food more often than just going back and forth anyway. And he would do this to his friends all the time too. Um, but I was also paying for every plane ticket and the cat sitter, which cost roughly the amount of a plane ticket to England.

Um, and he never offered to help me pay after the couple of times he did come here to visit me because he paid for the flights that we would both take. Um, but that only happened twice at the very beginning. I have actually had a friend tell me that, that this is financial abuse, but I don't know enough about that to say for myself, but I was telling him that I couldn't afford it, uh, all by myself all the time because I was losing money. I was never able to work properly there and he wasn't traveling at all to see me anymore, even though he said he would. Uh, that was like the basis of our entire relationship starting off. Um, so then he agreed to pay for the cat sitter so that it would be basically paying half the cost of my travels. Um, and he did that once, and then never did it again, uh, despite many more months of dating.

Uh, and I was traveling often. Um, I had to. Because he was worried that we weren't spending enough quality time together. And then all of the time that he would have ever extra, he would choose, choose, to not spend it on me because there was an available choice and he chose not to spend it with me. Often.

Um, and I did everything short of just up and move there, which I was willing to do the whole time. And I told him that I was willing to do it and he knew, uh, but he insisted that I don't. He insisted not to. He was planning to move here. That was supposed to happen first.

Um, and then at the end of the relationship, he said, "Maybe things would have been different if I lived there." If I lived there. Uh, like I had said I would the whole time and he insisted I don't. Maybe that could have saved the relationship. Um, and I say all of this because I believe that people like this are genuinely dangerous. I believe he is dangerous.

Um, he was willing to lie. He was willing to do harm to someone he claimed to love more than anyone he has ever loved. Uh, his actions escalated, um, and I don't think that I'll be the last person that he hurts. Uh, and I felt like sharing my story was really important to warn people. Um, I want people to see the signs that I refused to.

I want you to listen to your body. Um, and get out as soon as possible. Tell your friends the truth and let them help you.

Um, I really thought I, I couldn't — Because I had been sexually assaulted in a previous relationship, I just thought I was so much smarter. To never — and I was like, "if someone ever laid their hands on me, I'd leave immediately. It would never happen a second time." But you, you just, it just kind of happened so slowly over time, and got worse, and worse, and worse, until the point where there's no way to deny the fact that he was hurting me and he knew, and, and didn't care.

That's just the kind of thing that I keep repeating to myself when I'm like, "But was it bad enough? What? It wasn't violent enough." Um, but I was being hurt multiple times every single day. Days, and days, and days, and days, for a month at a time in a row, uh, and I'm not even speaking on most, because I did touch on other things, but I am not even speaking on most of the other things that, in my opinion, I do think that there are some things that are across a line that make you a bad person.

I don't think that most people can be defined in a black and white, you're good or you're bad, but I do believe that there is a line that you can cross and only bad people will do the things on the other side of that line. You know what I mean? Um, and I watched a couple of things cross that line. And I just, I, I truly feel now that my soul is so healed.

Um, I am light years beyond him. Uh, this was the last thing that I felt like I needed to do — That's my cat. — Um, before I could move forward and hopefully never talk about him ever again. Outside of maybe my stories that I want to tell about other shitty things he did. Anonymously mixed in with the other stories I still have of shitty things that shitty exes did.

Because I think it's important for us to share our stories and our experiences. I think it's important for all of us to know that we deserve so much better than this. Um, and I think that if people don't want us to talk about the shitty things that they do, then they shouldn't do shitty things. Um, and this just felt so important to share.

I always wanted to share my experiences. I always will. Um, and that's kind of it. That's it. That's the end of everything I prepared. I reserve the right, uh, entirely to change my mind later and tell every story I want to, um, but for now that's all I really have, I feel like, from my soul, I want to speak on. Because I think that this can help other people.

I think that it can help other victims. Um, I have already talked to a number of — I only cry now when I'm talking about my friends! Who also dealt with such shitty things from shitty people. Um, but I'm also so, so grateful for all of my friends who were through, uh, with me through this whole thing. And my friends who also were experiencing similar, similar sorts of situations, um, at the same time, and we kind of went through it together. So, um, I think they are the strongest people in the whole world, and they made me feel like the strongest people in the whole world today. Did I call myself people? I meant person. I feel like the strongest people — I did it again. — I feel like the strongest person. They made me feel so brave. I felt impenetrable today. Um, but I am gonna go now because my friends are coming over and we're immediately gonna go become distracted by watching Love Is Blind. I already watched all of it already and I don't care.

So thank you, um, for listening. Thank you everyone who gifted subs. Um, um, I am going to be taking, uh, the rest of the week off from streaming. I have a video going out on Saturday and I'll be back next week and, uh, you won't hear about any of this again for a while, probably. But, uh, thank you all. I don't really even know what to do now. I think I'm just going to end. Um, go spread love all over the place on Twitch right now and I'll see you guys later. Bye.

Wilbur's response:

In the past week a series of allegations have been made over my conduct from an ex-girlfriend. I want to emphasise that, although I feel it fair to offer my perspective, this person's feelings are completely valid. I have taken my time sharing this statement as I wanted to process and respond respectfully and with the hope to gain a deeper understanding for the situation.

During our relationship's final months, I regrettably became slobbish, disrespectful, and selfish. These actions caused a lot of pain to my ex-girlfriend and I've since sought therapy to address these behaviours, making significant lifestyle changes to rectify my past actions. I have come to realise how much my past behaviour hurt this person, but I truly, compassionately believe I have made great strides from the person I once was and hope I can continue to grow and improve on this trajectory.

The allegation of abuse, particularly in the form of biting, deeply shocked me. Throughout our relationship, I understood from our numerous conversations and text message exchanges on the subject, that this behaviour was consensual, playful and reciprocally enjoyed. I truly believe those personal message exchanges reflect mutual affection and understanding. Out of respect for her, I choose not to publish them and I emphasise my perspective is not shared to diminish or invalidate anyone's feelings. Instead I share it in the hope that I can offer a genuine, fair and relevant insight into my understanding of the situation. While I may perceive our interactions differently, I recognise that this person has processed and expressed feelings of hurt. I want to extend my sincerest apologies for any pain that I caused.

I am fully committed to understanding and addressing her concerns going forward. I hope my perspective sheds light on this situation without detracting from its message. I am dedicated to earning and maintaining the trust of those around me and hope I continue to be held to these high standards I wish to attain and maintain.

- Will

Shubble's response:

i could not have imagined what i would wake up to today. my ex pretending he thought i enjoyed being hurt... and all of my friends immediately coming to my defense. The support has brought me to tears, i don't even know what to say. i'll be back, i'll just be taking a little time

and for the record, i don't accept the apology