#okay. reminder to myself to do those after current projects

[aroace-poly-show]

IFORGOT I AHD CARDS TK TEDRAW FUCK ME

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 9

Title: Sugar Cookies and Devious Confessions

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Exams season and Solstice? Consider YN locked in, loaded, ready to go, hangry, and sentimental. Jungkook is just along for the ride with a hefty side of acts of service, quality time and physical touch are his love languages. Who'da thunk?

Warnings: T, language, fluff, so much fluff actually, I've surprised myself, semi-sexual conversations, JK is a menace but Reader can keep up...mostly, touch of angst tbh, reader gets hangry and is bad at taking care of herself sometimes, but apologises and makes up for it, mostly just wholesome this time. And fun!

Word Count: 6,675

Release Date: December 8, 2024. 12:30PM

A/N 1: Hiiiiiiiiiiii. It's here, thank you to those who reminded me. I literally would have forgotten for the third week in a row without them. I love you all.

A/N 1.5: Chapter ten will be coming sometime between Dec 20th-30th as it is festive and that's all I will say about it.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

Jungkook’s learned many things about you since your friendship started. 

From your favourite colours to your favourite brush to paint with. He learned that you are always team morally gray love interest in the books you read in your limited spare time, although that one was learned a little against your will. 

He’d wanted to know why you always went for them, and very begrudgingly you admitted you found it appealing when they’d do anything to protect the main character. That they always did what they thought was best or what needed to be done despite their sad backstory, because for some reason, they all had sad backstories.

Every. Single. One of them. 

And you claimed it suckered you in every time. 

But through all of your time spent together—specifically during midterms—Jungkook learned just how much you ignore all of your basic needs as a human being when it comes to exams season. 

How you’ll forget to eat all day in favour of studying, or staying up late to finish your practical exam projects, making absolutely sure they’re up to your impossibly high standards, disregarding sleep.

So it doesn’t surprise him when he turns the corner to the greenhouse cafe to see you, thinner than normal with bags under your eyes, slaving away at something on your computer. 

He hates that he can tell you’ve lost weight through your winter clothing.

You look up, briefly smiling in greeting. He can tell just from how long it took you to notice him that you need a break, a good healthy meal and some sleep.

He smiles back, but bypasses you and walks straight into the cafe. You don’t think twice about it, already knowing what he’s doing.

“Hey Vivian,” he says to the barista.

“Hey JK, the regular?” She's restocking some cups and lids to the counter.

“Please, but tag on a hot chocolate for YN and some tarts.” Vivian nods, typing the order into the cashing system, very much used to either of you adding on each other's order to your own at this point.

“Machines ready for you,” she says, already prepping the first drink—his by the looks of it.

Jungkook pays and waits patiently, watching you from the window. 

“How long’s she been here?” he asks over the currently frothing milk—that’s for your hot chocolate.

“Since seven. She grabbed a tea and hasn’t moved since.” 

It’s almost 1:30 now, and Viv looks at him knowingly. She’s watched you do this to yourself every mid-term and exam season since you started. 

“Ah. I see.” He purses his lips.

It’s only a few minutes before the drinks and tarts are ready. Jungkook grabs them and heads out the door, calling a thank you over his shoulder.

“Okay look,” he says to grab your attention as he stands directly in front of you. The act of walking to the front of you alone clearly not enough to gain it. 

Looking up, your eyes widen in glee at the treats he carries. You attempt to reach for them but he pulls them back.

“Nuh uh, you need food.” 

You look at him confused. “Those are food.”

“No, these are the reward. You need a meal.” 

You try to interrupt him. Most likely to say you do eat meals, but instant ramen or a box of mac'n'cheese do not count, and he cuts you off before you can. “A healthy meal, Picasso, something to give your body nourishment and energy. One that fills you up.”

You scowl at him. 

“But–”

“No buts,” he cuts you off again. “Healthy food. Full, happy belly food,” he says, gently patting his stomach so not as to spill his drink. “Pack up, we’re going to the cafeteria and getting you some.”

“But–”

“Y/N,” he says sternly, giving you a look that says he will not be budging on this, and that if you refuse, he’s going to throw you over his shoulder to ensure it happens. 

It was the voice of a future King, he thinks. Then internally shudders. That’s not who he is with you, but he can admit that sometimes this side of him comes in handy during times like these. 

“Fine.” You snip, very clearly not happy about this.

Fortunately, you don’t seem to have any art supplies with you today, just your computer, a notepad and pencil case. You gather them quickly, throwing them into your backpack with an annoyed look because you don’t want to stop, but he’s forcing your hand.

He doesn’t care. You need this, and it’s clear as hell you were not going to do it on your own.

You were so fucking stubborn sometimes. 

His mask, hat and baggy shirt combo mixed with some large combat boots and a slight slouch in posture has worked wonders disguising him from the public so far. In fact, he’s pretty sure it intimidates some people seeing as how they nearly jump out of his way. You’ve joked about it before, calling it his ‘scary dog privilege’…whatever that meant. 

Jungkook doesn’t mind, though. Despite being four months into the school year, and his speech at the beginning, people still fawn and stare at him. Trying to get his attention, his approval. Anything to get something from him, even if it’s just a look in their direction. 

He wonders if it will ever die down, if it'll ever go away. Or if with new freshmen every year, a new horde of people will seek him out. 

So, he’s grateful that with this little disguise on, no one bats an eye at him as you two walk the fifteen minutes it takes to get across campus to the cafeteria. He knows you’re more than mentally drained, because you’re not checking over your shoulder every few seconds to make sure no one realizes you’re with him like you usually do. 

You enter the main building, luckily the cafeteria on the ground floor, just near the back. Once there, you walk straight to the fridge of premade to-go foods. Grabbing a fruit cup, a chicken caesar salad, and a container of mixed vegetables with dip, you turn to him.

“Is this good enough for you?” you snark.

“Yep, great choices,” he says, ignoring your tone. “Very healthy and nutritious. Plus you nearly have all the food groups.”

“I do have all the food groups,” you say back, deadpan.

Wow…

You really need some sleep, he’s never heard you sound so lifeless. Or mean. You’re only ever truly mean when you’re beyond exhausted, too tired to care. 

He’d say your mood and overall vibe is like a mixture of brown and gray, but he knows if he said it out loud you’d make him specify which specific shades of brown and gray, so he keeps the thought to himself. Both not to provoke you and to be polite.  

“You’re missing dairy and grain,” he says.

You point to his hands holding the tarts and drink.

“Fair point,” he concedes, and trails you to the register, grabbing a protein shake from a nearby fridge on the way. His card is out and paying before you can reach for your wallet and you accept it, even too worn out to yell at him for buying you something. 

Hot chocolate and the occasional bag of tarts you're fine with, because half the time you’re also buying him his coffee and sharing your tarts, so you see it as a fair trade. But anything outside those and you damn near throw a fit, claiming you don’t need him to spend his money on you. 

You never want anything from him, so unlike everyone else in his life.

He leads you to a more private booth in the corner, scary dog privilege in full effect as no one dares stand in his way, and you very unceremoniously plop down, sluggishly shucking off your bag and coat. 

Definitely a brownish-gray. 

You two eat and drink in silence; you, slowly picking away at your food, him, finishing his drink then eating the vegetables from the container you don’t like. It’s a peaceful silence, contented as your mood gradually improves and some colour returns to your face the more you get into your system. 

The sight relieves him. 

“Sorry,” you say, eyes glued to the table, unable to look at him. And he knows it’s for the way you treated him pre-food.

“No worries,” he replies. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. That's good.”

Jungkook wasn’t going to push, but now that your mood’s improving, he hopes it’s safe to.

“Hey,” you look up at him, the bags under your eyes more evident under the artificial light and his heart breaks a little at the sight. “Promise me you’ll get some sleep tonight?”

A small close lipped smile finds your face, eyes soft, appreciative. The corner of his own lifts to match. 

“I promise I’ll try.”

You fall asleep early that night, 9pm. 

You don’t know what allows you to, but your exam worries fade and assignment anxiety slips from your mind the heavier your eyes grow. In the back of your head however, a thought slips through your defenses; you know it’s because of the look in Jungkook's eyes when he’d asked you too. 

The one of worry—genuine worry—for you. 

You hate yourself for causing it. You never want him to have to worry about you, god…he already has so much on his plate, you don’t want to add to it. 

But mostly…

But mostly you let yourself succumb to slumber because you don’t want to disappoint him. 

He asked you so kindly, and you know he had your best interests at heart when he did. He always does. 

You don’t have it in you to deny him that simple favour. To take care of yourself a little better.

So you sleep, just this once. For him. To help relieve him of the stress you caused.

And you know that that thought is what lets you until 10am the next day.

You feel better than you have in weeks.

You have everything you could possibly need to make all the recipes you have planned for today. Eggs, flour, sugar, soju, cutters, extracts, ginger, honey, chocolate chips, food colouring, some fruit concentrates and more are stuffed into the bags that dangle from your now struggling arms. There’s also another much lighter bag filled with a surprise for him that sits near the crook of your elbow. 

 Jungkook’s not going to know what hit him.

The door clicks open and you watch his eyes nearly leave his skull before he reaches to take them from you.

“Oh wow, you really weren’t kidding were you,” he says as he takes them to the kitchen with ease. 

Stupid muscles, you think, but the thought doesn’t hold for too long, glad at having your arm circulation back. 

“Solstice cookies are no joke in my house,” you say, following him.

“Clearly.”

He starts taking things out of the bags and you grab the one with the surprise in it before he can get to it.

“Won’t we need that?” he asks.

“Yes, but it’s not for cookies,” you start backing away towards the living room, bag behind your back. “It’s a surprise.”

Jungkook has a goofy grin plastered on his face as he follows you, and you put one on to match.

You stand in front of the coffee table and order him to sit and close his eyes, a sarcastic ‘yes ma’am’ comes from his lips, but he does as told. 

You set the contents of the bag on the coffee table; a small fake tree with built in lights, some tiny baubles in a box, a star, a polaroid camera and a custom, empty ornament.

“Okay, open!”

Jungkook opens his eyes and the same goofy grin returns, but this time there’s a sparkle in his eyes that you’ve never seen before.

His voice is gentle and lovely when he asks, “What’s all this Picasso?”

“Your very own tree to decorate. We have lights, decorations, even a star for the top,” you say as he leans and picks up the star. “You said you didn’t really celebrate anymore so I wanted to bring some celebration back to you—if you wanted to, that is.”

He twirls the star in his hand, smile never leaving, as he inspects it closer. “Did you make this?”

You turn sheepish. “Ah… yeah. They don’t really sell mini toppers for the mini trees, just the baubles, so that guy’s made from the finest cereal box cardboard and tinfoil on the market.”

He just stares, at the star, at the tree, then to you. You can’t tell if you screwed up or not. Did he hate this?

But then he’s standing and you’re in his arms as he hugs you. 

You freeze, unsure of what to do for a second, before you let your arms go around him, hugging him back. 

He’s solid, you can feel the strength in him as he breathes, and the weight in his arms as they hold you. 

But also warm. So warm your cheeks start to heat to match the rest of your body that seems to be on fire. 

It ends before it barely started, and you find yourself missing him the second he’s gone. 

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head as if not realizing what he’d just done until after he stopped. You want to tell him it was okay, but he says, “thank you,” immediately after, and squats down to open the baubles. 

“You’re welcome,” you say as you watch, sitting down on the couch. He looks like a kid, the brightest of smiles on his face as he goes to place the first one, but pauses, and hands it to you. 

“You know better than me where to start.”

You giggle, placing the red sphere near the middle, and gesture for him to put on the next one. It continues like this until the box is empty, you then him, then you then him. He places the last ornament and looks to you, star in hand. 

“You do it,” you say. You’ve done this a million times with your mum, you doubt he’s done the same.

He carefully grabs the top branch that sticks up, placing the star over it. Your heart swells at how gentle he is with your handmade decoration. 

“Now the last step,” you say, as you reach for the camera. This was your favourite tradition with your mother, the yearly solstice picture. You have one from every single year after you were born, and even one with you in your mum’s belly. 

“Turn around,” you say, spinning your finger and he does, you follow.

You’re both on the ground in front of the tree, and you lift the camera, leaning into him. Still so warm. He leans right back. 

“Say 'Solstice!'” you call out, and smile.

“Solstice,” he says with you as you snap the picture.

You pause for a moment, making sure the image is done capturing before leaning away again. 

The image prints out, and you take hold of it, shaking so it develops faster. 

“Can you get some scissors, and a permanent marker?” you ask Jungkook. He leaves for only a moment, returning from the kitchen, scissors and marker in hand. 

You reach for the empty, custom ornament. It’s a camera, and where the lens would be is a spot for a picture. Cutting the polaroid to fit, you slide it in, and write solstice followed by the year on the back of the ornament.  You put it in the middle of the tree, letting the baubles frame it.

You don’t see Jungkook watching you do all of this, a look in his eye that would melt you if you saw. 

“And now for the magic,” you say, turning on the built-in lights. The tree twinkles as the little LEDs reflect off baubles, like stars on a clear night winking at one another.

You're too busy looking at the tree when you hear a click. Following the sound you see Jungkook, polaroid camera in hand, lens facing you. The image pops out and he grabs it, placing it on the coffee table beside the tree.

“Aren't you supposed to shake it?” you ask.

He looks purely serene as he responds. “Nah, polaroids have chemicals and dyes layered in them, so if you shake them you can get microbubbles or marks on them.”

You didn’t know that, but it doesn’t surprise you in the slightest that he does. His talent for photography, a result of years of study and practice. 

“Oh, good to know,” you say as you take the camera from him, and direct him to look at the tree. You snap a picture to match your own, placing it on the table beside the one he took. 

He stays sat there, staring at the tree for a while, the occasional flit towards you before the tree once again.

“It’s perfect,” Jungkook says, breaking the comfortable silence. He clears his throat before adding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You don’t know what else to say besides that, but you can see the happiness in his eyes. Their glow. Their warmth. 

You don’t think you need to say more. 

He knows. 

Time is quickly passing, and you have five recipes to get through today. So as much as you find yourself not wanting to move, perfectly happy sitting here with him for the rest of the day in this beautiful silence, you can’t. The tree is only the beginning of your day together.

“Cookie time?” you ask. 

Jungkook looks to you and takes a deep breath, as if he was also content to stay where you were for the day.

Just you, him and the tree.

“Cookie time.”

“You bitch!” you say as flour flies from his hand to your cheek. 

You were three and a half recipes in, having made two easier recipes first to ease him into a more difficult one. Shortbread, maejakgwa, and gingerbread now sit around in tupperware and cooling sheets around the apartment. 

But because of that, Jungkook is slowly losing all seriousness as you retrieve the sugar cookie dough from his fridge. It was actually the first thing you’d made, knowing it had to chill for a while beforehand, hence the three and a half. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, all knowing smirk plastered on his face like a neon billboard. 

You refuse to sink to his childish levels, and remove the beautifully chilled dough from its refrigerator bowl. Wiping your face with a cloth to clean yourself of the flour, you order him over.

“Come use all your unnecessary muscles to roll this out, quarter inch thick,” holding out the rolling pin to him. The smirk lessons only slightly, but he does as told. 

“All my muscles are unnecessary, huh?” he says after a minute of rolling. You’re by the sink washing some dishes as he does and you can all but physically see the egging in his voice. 

“Yes.”

“And why’s that?” He asks as he finishes rolling out the dough and begins on his cookie cutter decisions. You’ve learned he’s particular about which one’s he wants to use for which type of cookie. 

“Because you have like a million eight foot tall, 450 pound security guards following your every move at all times,” you say, as if this was obvious. In reality, it was a solid team of six guards who were at their tallest 6 '4, and maybe 285 at their heaviest. 

Admittedly, they were all really nice guys, having met them numerous times over the months. And you were planning on stealing some of the cookies from today to give them little solstice bags. 

Jungkook’s never going to be able to eat them all by himself  anyway…you think. And even if he could, he really shouldn’t.

“So, because I have security guards,” he looks at you unbelievingly, “my muscles are unnecessary?” 

“Yes. Why have them if you don’t need them?” At this point you’re just teasing him.

“Lots of reasons,” and he starts listing as you continue to clean. “They look nice, but that's obvious.”

“I’m sure your groupies don’t mind that at all,” you sneak in under your breath, referring to his enormous, and rather lewd mouthed female following on social media. 

“Hey, you leave my groupies out of this, they’re nice people,” he says, pointing a white powdered finger. You scoff and go back to the dishes mumbling something about how they feed his ego. 

“There’s also the fact that I like being strong. I like that I don’t get winded from jogging up the stairs, and I like that I have the ability to help damsels who show up at my place with their arms full of far too many heavy bags.”

You shoot him a glare and he laughs. “You can’t say I’m wrong.”

You also don’t have to acknowledge that comment.

He takes it as a win in your ever ongoing battle of wits. And just to try and even out the playing field a little more, as you are currently winning by a landslide, he adds on a little more to his answer, hopefully one you’re not expecting, and therefore winning by shock factor.

“There’s other reasons too, but those are a lot less PG, to say the least.”

He—

Your hands pause their ministrations for mere seconds before continuing.

How did he say it so…casually!?

Like he didn’t essentially just tell you he likes being strong for bedroom purposes. A topic you’ve never been anywhere near speaking to him about, and he just… brings it up like that? So cryptically as if he wants you to ask for clarification. 

And you do want clarification, damn him!

You hate that it makes you curious. Hate. It.

You like knowing things, not to be nosey, but because you like the mental safety it brings. When you and Nel first started having sex you did a deep dive on everything you could, to make sure nothing was a surprise and that you didn’t hurt yourself or him if you tried anything new. 

Little did you know half of the research was for nothing. Nel has never been the most sexually adventurous person, whereas you wanted to try out new things, explore, see what you like via trial and error, he was fine with good ole missionary and a handful of other basic positions. 

What you two do now works though. And that’s what counts. Compromise. Overcome. Enjoy and respect each other's boundaries. 

But it makes you wonder if Jungkook knows anything you don’t. 

That reason alone is apparently enough for you to hear, “Like what?” leave your lips before you can stop it. And you internally freak.

What the fuck! You did not just ask him that. 

That did not just come out of your mouth.

You did not jus-

“You really wanna know?” he asks, eyeing you over his shoulder with a single quirked brow, like he can’t believe you said it either, but he’ll dish you if you want him too. 

How interesting. You don’t remember gaining this level of trust from him, to be honest about something so personal. So private. 

You wonder when that happened. 

No, you say in your mind. But your head is gingerly nodding yes. 

Stop that! You think to your body, betraying you once again.

Jungkook hums before picking up a cutter, a simple circle. 

“Well,” he punctuates the word with a cutter punch. “Uhh…there’s a certain level of—” a punch, “—power dynamic I prefer having, and they definitely help with that,” another cutter punch. “I also like being able to lift my partner with relative ease, or carry them if need be. Legs around my hips is a personal favourite.”

Your dishwashing slows as he continues, unable to stop the images that flood your mind thanks to your visual thinking. 

Stupid art brain.

A small pool of heat starts to form low in your stomach. Stupid art brain.

After some more circular cutter punches, you think he’s finished and you’re relieved, but then he switches to a spikier one and continues. 

“I’ve also learned that finger strength seems to be a fan favourite,” he jokes and you gulp, forcing that thought out of your head as soon as it enters like a slingshot.  “And most of my previous partners seemed to enjoy the fact that I could, uhm…well, that I could hold them in place while I did… that is…whatever I wanted to them.” 

You ignore the wetness in forming your underwear. This conversation, regardless of who it was with, was not helping you and your complete and utter lack of sex. 

Another enormous downside to long distance, your libido and its easily excitable nature due to lack of use. Maybe an appointment with your vibrator is due soon, if you’re this affected by these attempts at sterile descriptions of sexual-like encounters. He isn’t even saying anything expressly dirty. He’s trying to be as respectful and informative in his answers as he can.

Plus, you did this to yourself. 

“But if I had to pick, I think there’s a tie for my favourite part about having unnecessary muscles for non PG purposes,” he says, and looks at you with another quirked brow, seeing if he’s allowed to proceed.

You’ve entirely stopped washing the dishes. Too focused on not focusing on the growing need blooming inside you. 

Oh yes, you’re penciling it in right now: Vibrator appointment. Tonight. 10:30pm. 

Sharp.

Time to accept the consequences of your actions.

“Consider it a potential learning opportunity. Academically speaking, of course,” you say, as a way to make this educational. That’s all this is anyway right? To see if he knows anything you don’t. 

Right?

Right.

“If you say so Picasso.” He tears the leftover dough from the neatly cut cookies, and starts laying them on a baking pan. “First, I like that I’m strong enough to flip my partner over whether they’re, uhm...” he struggles for an ‘academic’ sounding word, but settles for, “restrained, or not.”

Heat. Everywhere. There's heat everywhere and you immediately go back to the dishes, changing the flowing water to ice cold and ignoring the throbbing of your core. You’re pretty sure if you slipped your hands down your pants right now, they’d be just as wet as they are cleaning the mixing bowls. 

Maybe you should reschedule to 10. Or even 9:30. Hell, why not 9 while you’re thinking about it.

“Secondly, I like the muscles because they help me make great use of walls.”

You nearly drop the bowl in the sink, not having nearly enough time to recover before he’s looking at you again, sugar cookie filled baking pan in hand.

“You ever done something like that?” he asks, sly smirk visible. He’s trying to make light of the situation, make it a joke for the sake of comfortability.

He’s spilling ‘all’ his secrets, why shouldn’t you spill one.

The oven dings, signaling the preheating is complete and it’s ready for use. He comes closer to you, only because the oven is opposite the sink, puts them in and sets the oven’s timer for 12 minutes. Turning back around, he’s not two feet from you.

You force your voice to be as smooth and cool as possible as you face him, your own smirk plastered. 

“Wouldn't you like to know?”

Yes, yes he would.

“Call your goons in, I have their bags ready.”

“They’re not my goons,” Jungkook says, texting Shen, head of his security detail. “They’re my guards.”

You’re both finishing up cleaning the kitchen, all of the ingredients are put away, the dishes are cleaned, and Jungkook is washing down the counterspace as you write the names of everyone on the little bags filled with the results of your combined labours.

The coffee table is covered in little polaroids from today, all still resting from when they developed. Half of them have some form of baking related mess on them, be it some flour or a small lump of dough. 

You look at one he took after throwing more flour on you, your nose is scrunched and it looks like half your face is white with the stuff. It’s cute. There’s another beside it, Jungkook is pretending to lick raw batter from the whisk, eyes wide, tongue outstretched. It’s chaotic.

They’re perfect.

Shen, Dae-Seong, Asa, Rowan, Micah and Hikari are Jungkook’s security detail. They all have shared apartments in the same building. Never too far away. Shen and Asa are stationed on his floor, Mikah and Rowan are on the floor below and Dae-Seong and Hikari are on the one above. 

“Guards, goons, same difference,” you say, but you hear knocking not seconds later, no doubt Shen and Asa. 

You go and open the door, welcoming them in.

“Hey Y/N,” Asa says, scooping you up for a hug, your feet dangling. Asa’s one of the guards who’s super tall, and he’s always been very affectionate towards you. Come to think of it, a lot of them are. 

“Hey Asa, how’s Natalie?” you chuckle, hugging him back lightly. Natalie is his wife, who's still back in the capital.

“She’s good, excited to have me home soon.”

“No doubt, say hi for me.”

“Yeah, will do.”

He sets you down just in time for another knock. 

Rowan, Micah, Hikari and Dae-Seong all make their way in too, giving high fives, light hugs or happy greetings to you as they do. Soon, you’re being towered over by men, feeling very small, but never scared as they are always so lovely to you.

You suspect you’re quickly becoming their favourite. 

Jungkook they’re used to seeing, they’ve known him for years, protected him for years. They give him shit, a nod or grab him by the neck with their arms as they play wrestle to greet him. No hugs or high fives to be seen with him, only laughter. Mostly at Jungkook. 

When they’re around, Jungkook is the most at ease you’ve ever seen him at. 

“So what’s up?” Shen asks. He’s the least affectionate out of everyone, stoic even, but that doesn’t surprise you. He’s responsible for the safety of the future monarch, that’s a stressful job.

You look to Jungkook, who’s now sitting on the couch. He signals with a hand that this is all you.

“I don’t know if you all celebrate, but just in case you do, Jungkook and I spent the day baking,” Rowan snorts at that, and you ignore it, motioning for them to follow you to the kitchen. The island carrying their individually labeled goody bags comes into their view.

“And this is just a little thank you for all you do from the jackass in the other room,” you point with a thumb to the wall the couch is on the other side of. The men snicker. 

“I heard that,” Jungkook calls.

“You were supposed to,” you call back, then to the group once more, “and it’s also a Happy Solstice from me.”

Rowan and Asa are still laughing at your less than kind words about their charge as you begin to hand them their bags. Each one says thank you as you do, and Asa gives you another hug. He may be 6’4 and god knows how many pounds, but really, he was just a big teddy bear—a lethal one— but cuddly nonetheless.

“We’ve got a decent selection, but feel free to trade,” you say, giving Shen his bag last. He has a thing with going last, you have no idea why, but you respect it. You whisper to him that he has an extra of each cookie, and not to tell the others, including Jungkook. He gives you the absolute smallest of small smiles, followed by a hushed ‘thank you.’

It’s the most tender you’ve ever seen him.

Micah pipes up. “What’s this one?” he asks, holding up a cookie.

“So, we’ve got gingerbread, maejakgwa, sugar cookies, shortbread and that, my dearest Micah,” the mountain of a man blushes at that, and you laugh, “is a yakgwa cookie. Think chewy honey and ginger.”

He pops it into his mouth instantly and you swear if he could, he’d melt into a puddle. 

“There’s no way King Pain in the Ass over there made these, they’re way too good,” Hikari says, on his third one. He seems to be trying one of each, seeing which he likes. So far? Apparently it’s all of them.

“Cross my heart,” you say, “it was a gallant team effort.”

“Thanks kid,” he calls to the prince, currently entering the room to see his guards happier than he has in a very long time. He will never admit it out loud, for fear of endless mocking, but the sight warms his heart.

Dae-Seong comes up to you, and very politely asks, “Could I get the recipe you used for the maejakgwa? My wife would love these.”

“Of course, Dae-Seong,” you place a kind hand on his forearm. “Give Minji my best will you?”

The man nods, grateful. 

All the recipes today were from your memory, so you get your phone, and start typing it out. 

You have him text it to himself from your phone when you’re finished, and use that as your que to grab the camera.

“Everyone,” you call out, and immediately seven pairs of eyes, with seven full mouths beneath them, are looking at you. Jungkook’s eating some from his own stash, or so you hope. “Crowd your favourite royal on the couch please, it’s picture time.” You shake the camera gently in your hand.

“My favourite royal’s back at the pala–” Hikari tries, but a punch to the shoulder from Jungkook has him laughing in favour of completing the sentence. 

You love the relationship he has with them. Like brothers.

Quickly, Jungkook is squished between the six men, one on either side and four on the floor in front of him. They tried to fit more on the couch but they're all so big that they couldn’t.

“Everyone needs to smile, and if they don't, I'm taking more until they do,” you say pointedly, eyeing up Shen. He only nods that he understands.

“Say Solstice!”

A chorus of deep voiced ‘solstice's' ring your eyes as you look through the eyepiece and snap the picture. It prints out and you leave it with all the others on the coffee table. You see that everyone is smiling in the picture as it develops. 

Perfect. Everything about today has been perfect.

After a few more minutes of chatting, the guards have to get back to their posts, and you’re at the door, wishing everyone a happy break as they leave. 

Shen, as usual, hangs back, wanting to be the last to leave. He’s standing beside Jungkook, both watching you as you bid the others farewell. 

“I like her,” Shen says to Jungkook quietly. 

“Me too,” Jungkook says back. 

Shen can see the prince means that in more than one way.

“Keep her around.”

“I'm trying my best to.”

It’s nearing 7:30, you’re both full after ordering dinner in, not wanting to be anywhere near a kitchen until next week, and working on assignments. Jungkook’s editing some photos, and you’re writing part of an essay from your phone, having completely forgotten to bring your computer in all the excitement. 

“Hey,” you say, sitting in your spot on the couch. You nudge him with a socked foot, he has headphones on so he can focus.

He doesn’t look to you, but removes a headphone. “Yeah?”

You lock your phone, brain mush for the night. “Can we move movie night to tonight? I have an exam at 8am on Monday and I want to use tomorrow to study.”

You’ve been thinking about it for a while, deciding that today would let you know if you needed to make the switch or not. And given that you’ve spent the day on your feet and partially socializing, you doubt you’ll be able to focus for the rest of the night, exhausted. But the good kind of exhausted.

You’ve been taking better care of yourself since that day with Jungkook. Not drastically, but you’re starting to listen to your body’s signals a little more, and right now it’s telling you you need TV and sleep. 

Appointment be damned. You’ll reschedule.

Jungkook hits the space bar and removes his headphones before closing the computer. 

“Yeah, of course. But–” he cuts himself off, looking at the tree in front of him. The lights are low in the apartment and it’s dark out, so the tree shines, glowing from within. The picture of you two still sits in the middle, and the now multiple stacks of polaroids sit around its base like presents. 

“But?”

“But that means I won’t see you after today. I only have two exams left, Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning, then I’m back at the palace.”

Oh. 

Right.

“We don’t have to, I can just study earlier in the d-”

“No! No, it’s okay. It just…it changes a few things,” he bites his lip as he thinks, and places his computer on the coffee table. “Close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Close your eyes Picasso, please?”

You’re very confused but comply, closing your eyes and waiting. You hear him get up and then him walking, then a door opens. There’s some rummaging before the door closes and his footsteps near again.

The couch dips right beside you.

“Hold out your hands.”

You hold them both out, palms up, and something bumpy and cylindrical is placed in them. 

“Okay, open.”

In your hands is a leather rolling brush case, held shut by not only matching leather strings, but a red ribbon and bow. 

“Oh,” you didn’t know you were doing gifts. “Jungkook. It’s—it’s beautiful.”

“Open it.”

You untie the ribbon, setting it to the side as you also untie the leather strings, and unroll. The case is filled with brushes from Olliveri and Schultz, the best brush makers in the realm. And a small, very surprised gasp escapes you. 

You’ve never once owned any of their products. Their brushes go for $50 at the lowest, for the smallest of brushes.  

Exquisite craftsmanship goes into each and every brush, hand carved wooden handles, the best bristles you can buy, and rust resistant ferrule. You’ve always dreamed of having one of their brushes, and now here you are, with a whole set.

They’re the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

“Jungkook I—I don’t know what to say. I couldn’t possibly acce-”

“Yes you can. You can and you will. Please. I even made sure they put in an extra fan brush cuz it’s your favourite.” 

You notice the two brushes on the end, identical. 

He remembered. 

A lump is forming in your throat, overwhelmed with gratitude.

“I haven’t—I don’t—,” you take a breath, “I didn’t get you a gift, though.”

“Today was gift enough,” he says, and you can see in his eyes he means every word. “I haven't had a solstice like this in…a really long time, and the memories from today are enough, more than enough. I promise.”

You don’t know what to say, you haven’t been at this much of a loss for words since…ever. You can only think of one thing to convey how thankful you are.

Throwing your arms around his shoulders, you squeeze, his arms immediately around your waist. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, “I love them.”

Jungkook takes a deep breath too, savouring this moment for as long as he can. The feel of your arms around him, squeezing. The soft curve of your body up against his. His hands on your waist, you’re warmth under his touch, or maybe that was him, he can’t tell. And he doesn’t care. 

 It’s the first time you’ve ever initiated physical contact that was more than a nudge or playful shove. 

“You’re welcome, YN. Happy Solstice.” 

Chapter Ten: TBR

A/N 2: Fun fact! The tree and tin foil star are based on what I do irl. I have a dollarstore tree with little baubles and lights, but I made the star from a cereal box and tin foil because there weren't any toppers when I bought it.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

<- Back

[thepinkseductress]

Do you want to smell like the yummiest and sweetest slice of Strawberry Angel Cake and fluffy whipped cream?

The best feeling in the world is when you walk past a group of people and you hear someone say, "She smells really, really good!" or just simply talking to someone and they say to you, "OMG GIRL! What are you wearing? It smells sooooo good."

Well, at least, I love it when people say that about me. My biggest goal is to not only be the prettiest person in the room but also the best-smelling person.

Personally, I love sweet scents with candy or cake-like notes. I'm a gourmand girly DOWN!! Its fu-serious!

Teeny-weeny little piece of info: I have parosmia, which means the smell factory in my brain is a little out of whack. UGH! I know. I can smell just fine, but I can be a bit sensitive to certain smells, in which they may smell a little off compared to anyone without parosmia. But I swear I am reliable.

Now before I tell you what scents I like to layer and what perfumes I like to drown myself in, it's vital to understand that smelling good starts in the shower.

To me, the foundation to smelling like a literal piece of heaven depends on your body scrubs, shower gels, body wash, etc.

My shower routine:

Always Always ALWAYS start with a bar soap. It leaves the skin feeling fresh and clean. We want a clean canvas (clean skin) to work with. More specifically, this soap has a sweet and soft scent to it. Almost Angelic. It has more of a vanilla smell than shea butter but is still an exceptional cleanser. BRAVO!

At least once a week, I'll use a body sugar scrub. Usually on Sundays, before a busy and treacherous week, I'll scrub off last week's problems with a course body scrub. I like my body scrubs to be course yet moisturizing, and lucky for me, I found one at TJ MAXX (my second home).

Currently, my favorite is the Body Prescriptions Sugar Almond Body Scrub (I can't find a pic anywhere. Sorry!). It has the smoothest consistency that will have your skin feeling the cleanest it has ever felt, while leaving behind a yummy shine that will have you glowing.

Lastly, I adorn my skin with this lovely lady. She Smells BOMB.COM!!! When I say it smells yummy, delectable, edible, sweet, and everything delicious, believe me, girl. I would never lie to you. EVER.

Take my word, Bestie.

MOVING ON!

After-shower care:

Usually after a shower, my lotion depends on my mood.

She's my best friend when I'm having a mild kind-of day. When I'm stuck in the house all day or if I want to enjoy the simpler things in life. She's smells light but sweet. yum.

For a more, INTENSE day, we use her. The holy grail. You get it.

Super sweet and a little childish in my opinion. But idk its heavenly.

BODY GLAZE My Love!!! I live by these two body glazes.

You can layer them on top of the lotion if you want. It's your life… Live it. Me, I rather prefer to only layer the Birthday Frosting BODY GLAZE.

In terms of Miss Strawberry Shortcake, I'll use her all by herself; no lotion is needed. She performs better alone. IMO.

Both project very well, suuuuperrr duuuperr moisturizing, lasts all day, and will have people stopping you on the street to ask you, "OMG GIRL! What are you wearing? It smells sooooo good." …see what I did there?!…no? oh…okay. 

Let's move on, I guess.

I don't care how good your skin smells. If you're not wearing deoderant and those pits are funky, Bitch, YOU'RE FUNKY. PUT SOME DAMN DEODORANT ON!

This does not apply to my besties who do not wear deodorant due to any beliefs or discrepancies.

Anyways, this deodorant smells like a yummy slice of coconut cream pie with a pina colada on the side.

Have you ever watched your mom, grandmother, or any older woman that you look up to powder themselves?

It's not just for sweat, honey. Some powders come perfumed to add a little "umph" to your hygiene routine.

This powder holds a very special place in my heart. It smells sweet and a little floral. A very true vanilla flavor. It almost reminds me of French vanilla ice cream or syrup.

I keep my powder in a powder dish with a cute little pink powder puff sitting on top of the powder.

After spraying on my deodorant, I'll puff this on my underarms, back, and in between my legs, and at night I'll apply some to my chest and belly. Usually this is added the areas that I sweat the most.

Now on the part that you've been waiting for! Or at least what I've been waiting for…

Perfumes:

BOW DOWN TO THE QUEEN!!

…No, really…bow down.

This is a very sweet, cake scent that can be a little finicky. I find it hard sometimes to layer her with other perfumes or products that are more fresh or floral rather than sweet and gourmand. But let's take into account that I have parosmia.

Nonetheless, Mama is very sweet—almost too sweet, but that's what I want. I want you to get a sugar rush just from smelling me. And this perfume does just that. Projects beautifully and last almost a day. Around six hours later, I have to raise my arm to my nose to smell it, but during those six hours I can smell myself through someone else's nose.

Okay, I'm exaggerating, but seriously, she smells strong, sweet, and yummy.

I spray my clothes with perfume. And by spray, I mean DROWN. My soaps, lotions, oils, etc. are really in charge of my skin.

I see shimmer mist as more of an oil than a spray. I know that may not make sense, but hear me out.

I like to spray this on the parts of my body that will be exposed, like my chest, arms, back, and legs. I may even spray a generous amount onto my hands, until there is a puddle of it in my hand, and I will rub it into my skin like an oil. See, like I told you, I treat this more like an oil than a perfume.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

This concludes my usual hygienic routing, buuuuut I'll tell you a secret. Only because we're like besties or whatever.

I like to lightly spray my underwear and socks with perfume. Usually something a bit stronger than a BB&W perfume mist. A cologne, basically.

This keeps my undergarments smelling yummy.

WARNING: Your partner will want to eat your panties right off of you. Proceed with caution.

Remember, bestie, this is MY hygiene routine. I am simply sharing just in case you needed a little help adding products to your arsenal or simply organizing your daily routine. If you do not like anything that I've listed or if you wish to add something, do as you wish, babes!

This is for inspirational purposes, LOL.

I understand this post may be similar to other girly bloggers, much like me. I can assure you I am not the first person to make a post as such, and I won't be the last. I just wanted to share.

My intention is to NEVER be a kopy kat (yuck)!

Okay, I'm done yapping. CIAO!

-ThePinkSeductress

⠀:¨ ·.· ¨:⠀ ⠀ `· . ୨୧⠀

[authoralexharvey]

INTERVIEW WITH A WRITEBLR — @wordwizards

Who You Are:

Buddy || He/it

My day job is at a dental implant laboratory, which I really enjoy, but I also have the passion for writing that I like to keep on the side. I'm also a bit of a lame college dropout.

What You Write:

What genres do you write in? What age ranges do you write for?

Horror, paranormal, and sci-fi. New adult and adult.

What genre would you write in for the rest of your life, if you could? What about that genre appeals to you?

I think I would stick with science fiction since I like coming up with rational in-universe explanations for the fantastical things that exist in my stories. But honestly, I wouldn't like being stuck with one genre.

What genre/s will you not write unless you HAVE to? What about that genre turns you off?

Oddly enough, as much as I like reading historical fiction, I don't like writing it because I can't stop myself from overthinking the historical accuracy of what I'm writing…even though I know readers wouldn't care. Just hard to focus on the story when I'm spending all my time worrying about which slang terms existed in the time period!

Who is your target audience? Do you think anyone outside of that would get anything out of your works?

I definitely write with the intended audience of people in my age group, but I could see why someone much older or younger than me might read my books. It's not just about relating to the protagonist's age, or relating to the protagonist at all. Well, I read many books where I'm definitely not in the target audience, and I do have moments where I have to think, "Okay, I can tell this is not for me," but I also find it interesting to get other people's perspectives through the things they like. (And I'm kind of just over-analyzing because that's all I do with fiction now.)

What kind of themes do you tend to focus on? What kinds of tropes? What about them appeals to you?

When it comes to specific tropes, I like working with ones that I am currently interested in researching. For example, my latest interest is '50s alien invasion movies, so I like researching things common in those films and using them for my current project. As for themes, I've noticed that family is a big one, of course focusing less on "blood is thicker than water!" and more on things like how your parents affect your adult life and how to find who you consider your family. And since I have fairly character-driven stories there are usually themes of things like self-worth, figuring out your identity, or stuff like improving on yourself.

What themes or tropes can you not stand? What about them turn you off?

One that really gets on my nerves is when authors just randomly pair up side characters for the sake of a happy ending to the story, even though you have no reason to care about the characters dating. I find it annoying because I know the author is thinking to themselves that there has to be romance for the ending to be happy, but I don't see why that's the case! I've known many people unhappier in relationships than single, and seeing that in fiction is a reminder of how irritating people can be when you're happy to not date.

What are you currently working on? How long have you been working on it?

My main project is a story called Technophobia. Technically, I made the main characters in high school, but I kind of ping-ponged them around a few story concepts before coming up with an actual thing to write with them more recently.

Why do you write? What keeps you writing?

I just enjoy trying to translate things in my brain. I think it's good practice for if I get around to telling people how I'm feeling. And I keep going because I daydream constantly when I'm bored, so I come up with proper stories for them later.

How long have you been writing? What do you think first drew you to it?

I started writing for my creative writing lessons in the fifth grade, but I thought it was great and kept going after that. I liked reading a lot as a kid, I mean a LOT, and I also liked to daydream stories to help myself sleep. I didn't think much about proper story structure or writing techniques, but I had plenty of ideas, and it felt good to get it written down.

Where do you get your inspiration from? Is that how you got your inspiration for your current project? If not, where did the inspiration come from?

I think definitely from reading, and I'm not just talking fiction, though that's obviously very helpful in learning more about writing. But also nonfiction helps with writing a lot, and I think research is where I get most of my inspiration. It's nothing too fancy, but sometimes I'll spend a lot of time reading about something like radios, and I think, "Okay cool! What do I do with this?" and suddenly I'm writing a story about a person who's obsessed with collecting shortwave radios!

What work of yours are you most proud of? Why?

Probably my latest rough draft just because I struggled to keep motivated with it and I'm very happy that I was able to finish the first version of the story!

Have you published anything? Do you want to?

I haven't, but I keep going back and forth about whether I want to or not. I'd definitely like to share my finished projects somehow.

What part of the publishing process most appeals to you? What part least appeals to you?

Honestly, when I consider publishing, it's usually because I'm concerned about money and wonder if monetizing my main hobby would help me out. And that's great, but that's also my concern - like when you see people avoiding the things they genuinely like to focus more on what makes them money about it. I don't want that to happen, but you know, bills!

What part of the writing process most appeals to you? What part is least appealing?

I love starting stuff when I first have the inspiration and motivation, and the idea is all "shiny new". But finding out when to be finished is so hard for me because I keep overthinking it! Eventually I just need to tell myself, "Okay, it's done, it only looks bad because I've been reading the same passage all day. Leave it alone!"

Do you have a writing process? Do you have an ideal setup? Do you write in pure chaos? Talk about your process a bit.

I feel like calling it a "process" is a little too formal for my mess, but usually, I go to the desk in my bedroom and listen to music loosely connected with whatever I'm writing (the current project involves a lot of '80s hair metal) to write. I'm also fond of writing in Comic Sans to make it seem less serious (and then switching it to a fancier font that I prefer later), and if I'm extremely worried about getting embarrassed by what I'm writing, I'll use the Wingdings font. I also keep an Excel Spreadsheet where I track my writing periods. I put in the start and end time and the word count change, and I have a variety of formulas going to keep track of what I'm doing daily/monthly/yearly. For the first draft I like to just start writing whatever, and I tend to keep it very short, like maybe 10k words. After that I start doing a proper story outline and I keep a lot of notes of things I liked and disliked about the first little story I wrote. I try to get as detailed as possible to help myself out. I have a bad habit of constantly rewriting the first scenes so I'll often just write "PUT A BETTER INTRO" which is also what I do for school essays.

Your Thoughts on Writeblr:

How long have you been a writeblr? What inspired you to join the community?

Probably 2 years. I had a sideblog and then I wanted to make a new blog so I just made it my writeblr. I got tired of the other stuff I was posting on social media and I decided that I should just focus on the stuff I like, which is my own projects, so now I have that.

Shout out some of your favorite writeblrs. How did you find them and what made you want to follow them?

Man I love all my mutuals!! I've been in a writing server created by @writing-with-melon and it's a really positive experience. Also I read the first draft of @lady-grace-pens 's story and it's awesome!

What is your favorite part about writeblr?

I just think it's cool that you can see a bunch of different people at wildly different stages of their projects. I like to go into the main tags and see one person talking about getting published, immediately followed by another person talking about how they're just getting started. I also think that helps you feel less guilty about where you "should" be in writing.

What do you think writeblr could improve on? How do you think we can go about doing so?

Personally, I find it very annoying when a blogger is saying that no one shares their posts, but they rarely share other people's posts. I think people are scared of burying their own stuff, but now they're all too afraid to interact with one another! I don't know how to fix it but I do keep separate tags for my writing and stuff I'm reblogging, so that might help, or reblogging your own stuff multiple times? I don't know, but I just try not to be bitter towards people on my blog.

How do you contribute to the writeblr community? Do you think you could be doing more?

I like to go into the main tags to queue things on my blog often. I do also try to tag commentary when I'm sharing someone's story, but I feel like I ought to be more detailed with those, and I definitely want to send more people asks - especially when they share ask games.

What kinds of posts do you most like to interact with?

Love sharing short stories or snippets people post! I just like reading all that.

What kind of posts do you most like to make?

I keep dropping random lore about my stories when I feel like it.

Finally, anywhere else online we may be able to find you?

I'm not really anywhere else, but my personal sideblog is called @thehauntedbeach, and my Pinterest page is under the username wordwizards as well.

[aspecpplarebeautiful]

(feel free to ignore this one b/c there's too much asexual complaining/hopelessness in this lol)

Sometimes I'm like "I'm not a real asexual" because I worked really hard not to be one.

I don't believe there's a way I can have a happy life if I don't fix myself. I tried to act like it doesn't bother me but it does. I was so sick of feeling like something was dead inside of me that was alive and well in everyone else. It was destroying me, depressing me, it was too much.

Idk how to say this but at some point I had to fix myself and grow up. I'm in my 30s and I have to compromise or become a different person or else I'm gonna get left. No kids, no ring, no nothing. And that's not the life I want. That's not the life I can afford! My friends are all getting married off and sharing expenses. Soon, I'll have no more roommates. Perpetual rejection can lead me right in to homelessness.

I worked HARD to train myself out of asexuality after 14 years of regular arousal training and making myself be in normal relationships. And when I finally feel like I'm a normal person and I can leave this behind me, someone will complain about not having sex in a few weeks and I will blue screen like a broken computer. Like what do you mean that upsets you.

My desires will never be that strong no matter what I do. I could never get MAD or pent up because I haven't..... used someone else's body for pleasure. No matter what I do, I don't feel like I need it need it need it. I'm just not built to slobber all over another person and have that be most of my personality.

The asexual in me is very okay that I don't live like that, that I don't actually have those strong desires. But real life situations I get into every day remind me I must be broken. No one I've met in the wild relates to what I feel inside. No one. Just people online that's it. And that hurts so much more soooooooo so much more. I feel like the biggest freak on the planet. I hate this shit.

And, I feel like I have to sign up for another ten years of arousal training trying to fix myself even more until I get it because I can't support myself on a single income household in ten years I just can't. I need to be partnered with someone who isn't going to cheat on me and leave me in the dust because of who I am. And I can't handle false positivity with that because it has happened to me 8 times. One of my exes suggested surgery or drugs or conversion therapy and I hate that I'm considering fixing myself medically but I feel too burnt out and hopeless to not try it.

I'm so sorry you're going through such a difficult time, Anon. And it can legitimately be very hard to be asexual. One big thing though I'd like to point out is you keep talking about how you're wrong, but all the problems you point out are societal. Society makes it hard to thrive when you're single (both financially and socially), society makes it hard to have less conventional looking relationships. You are not the problem, Anon, the way our current society is built is the problem. It's external, not internal. And it can feel like you need to fix yourself, but you'll always be reaching because at the end of the way society will always still be the part that's actually broken.

I know you've probably heard people speak out against conversion therapy (and it is still conversion therapy when you're doing it to yourself), but one of the big issues with it that doesn't get mentioned as much is that it doesn't work. You just can't change who you are on such a fundamental level. And people go through these therapies and usually all they accomplish is becoming more traumatized and more confused. I know this is difficult, Anon, but this isn't a viable long term solution.

What I would really encourage you to do is find someone to talk to, it sounds like money is tight, but you can take advantage of free mental health services like 7 Cups, The Trevor Project, which are queer and asexual friendly. And they will help you navigate not just how to find self-acceptance, but financial planning and life planning. Even if you don't feel ready for this yet, please do keep this resource in mind.

There are other aces out there, it seems like there's not because once again we live in a society that keeps our orientation from us, and therefore keeps us from each other. I live in a city of 50k people, that means, even if we go by the most conservative estimates, there's at least 500 other aces in my city alone. Our orientation is kept from us, and a lot of aces don't even know there's a word for their experiences and a community. And this may sound like more hopelessness, but the other side of this is that asexuality is becoming more well known all the time, more local communities are starting to appear. Sometimes people can find other aces through local lgbtq+ chapters or Pride events. Sometimes there's an in-person asexual meetup group near you. Some major dating apps now let you put your orientation as asexual and filter for other aces. Even outside of dating, connecting to the asexual community can be really healing.

Sometimes it can seem like you're the only one, and because of how ingrained it is in society dating and sex go together, allosexual people who we date can sometimes act in a way that makes us feel like what we want isn't possible. If this happens multiple times in a row, our brains are pattern based, you hit this wall enough time, your brain says 'there is no going through this wall', and it will feel true whether it is or not.

Another thing you should consider looking into is what government programs exist in your city/state/province/territory/country. A lot of time there's financial resources out there that aren't very well advertised, especially if you're in a lower income. And often they depend on people seeking them out themselves. It won't hurt to do a few google searches or check what local organizations exist.

I know this is probably a lot, and I things probably feel very bleak for you right now, Anon. Unfortunately you can't flip a switch and suddenly accept yourself, you can't just fix society and wealth inequality. My advice would be though to try and take things one step at a time. And don't be afraid to reach out. And feel free to send as many asks here as you like too.

Take care, Anon!

[sharysisnhmoonshadow]

To the tiktok sound: MOONSHADOW, PLEASE TELL ME YOURE ALIVE AND ACTIVE, AND MY LIFE IS YOURS

Also I went back to reread The Gift and Running Uphill and they remain some of my favorite fanfics in existence. I've been following the Gift since I had found it on Ff.net and I reread it like "man I hope this author is okay" so I came here to check

Even after all these years of sharing and reading stories the kindness of fandoms never cease to amaze me. The last thing I expected today was a welfare check by one of my readers! You reaching out just to check on me warms my heart in a rather unexpected way, and I appreciate it in ways I cannot express. Seriously, it means a lot.

And because it means a lot, the “am I okay” question deserves a real answer.

I’m currently doing okay, but it took a lot of work to get here. And I’m still taking new strides every day. The last few years have been insane, and not just for the obvious reasons, and the result was me being emotionally depleted. I was dealing with burnout and compassion fatigue, and had some real emotional lows stemming from both work and personal life. It took me buckling to finally start the healing process and set healthy boundaries. In recent months I’ve been really focusing on the things that make me happy: Time with my fiancé, time with my horse, and setting creative time for myself. I’ve been out taking nature photos, dabbled with painting and resin art, and rearranging my island in Animal Crossing. My story muses only recently started talking to me again, and I’ve been reminding myself to just listen to the moment, and not try to force myself to work on something because I feel obligated. I’m rediscovering my love of writing by allowing myself to jump from project to project, and it’s been fun diving into old projects while also planning new ones.

I really am okay. I have a wedding to plan, and stories chattering in my ear, and I live for those late afternoons where I’m listening to podcasts while I brush out my horse’s tail.

Seriously, thank you. Seeing this in my inbox made my day. Sending you all the virtual hugs.

[chaotic-omnisexual-squirrel]

i actually love being trans.

this is kind of a weird thought process but i was watching this video from noahfinnce

and in it he talks about the notion of shame around coming out and being branded as trans, and this is just my opinion, and my experiences.

but i really do just love being trans, and being queer.

like i have also struggled with being branded as "the" trans guy and "that" gay group, at my old school. but honestly after 1. moving schools to a mixed gender school and 2. moving away from my old friends and finding people that are like, yeah you're queer, and we love you for that, but that's not the only thing about you.

but now i don't really mind it. i know i'm trans and i know i'm very deeply queer. and a big thing is that i know that my complications with gender and pronouns and presenting is directly linked to my neurodivergency and other mental health issues, and i know that if i was born amab or intersex that i would still be very deeply trans and have a very queer relationship with my gender.

and stuff that i create is also very linked with my queerness. my writing and my filmmaking is very queer, and while it isn't a focal point, the focal point is the fact that i know i have those skills and i am making art, art that just so happens to be queer in terms of content.

and the way i present, i wouldn't say that it is "art", but i do put a lot of effort into how i present, and i think a lot about the details of how i present, in terms of outfits and makeup. i do present very "femininely", sometimes cause just in my head it is very funny, but also cause it makes me feel good about myself, and the days that i feel the best about myself are when i look at myself in the mirror and i just think i look queer.

and with that i do think that signaling can be very important. like when i had just come out and i felt like absolute shit, it was so important to me to see other queer people, whether in physical spaces or online spaces. just seeing like a pride flag or doc martens with rainbow laces or pronoun pins made my day about two years ago.

but now i am kind of just constantly in queer spaces, and i think i've grown so much in terms of my relationship with myself and my confidence and my queerness. a year ago i probably would've cried if someone queer called me a fag, or if someone was "too casual" in terms of their identity. but now i'm in a deeply queerplatonic relationship with my two closest friends, in the way that we kiss and cuddle all the time, and we are okay making jokes about having mad gay sex.

and i have genuinely never been happier.

i've been at my current school for a year and i love it. it's an art school and it's such a good place for queer and neurodivergent kids, and the community there is fucking fantastic. i got so worried about going into the male bathrooms when i had to get changed, but i was really worried for just no reason, and when this cis guy who just looks like he'll be the one to bully trans kids just walks in, doesn't even blink, and just starts talking to me about a film project we're working on.

and another thing is i have started getting better seriously, in terms of mental health, i started on anxiety meds and antidepressants a few months ago and it's helped so much. old friends used to worry me about becoming medicated for something that at that point of my life i was still in denial about having, but i genuinely feel great.

but on the flip side i do still have dysphoria, and i still worry that i'm "faking" being trans. i can't look at my chest, i still have to have showers staring at the ceiling. and i always worry about having my period again, cause i've been on hormone blockers for 2 years now, and i'm just switching my medications now. but two things that have helped me with dysphoria and that imposter syndrome have been that i need to remind myself that what ever i feel is mine, no one else can dictate what's going on with me, and the second thing is that i shouldn't have to live up to anyone's expectations of what a man is, or what a trans guy is, or what medical treatment i should be getting.

and i've had so many issues with feeling fat and that seeming like i'm not "masc" enough, or having issues with exercising and just feeling like shit cause people perceive me in that way. but genuinely, fuck them, fuck anyone who thinks that. i'm not at a stage where i'm completely okay with my body and myself, but i am at a stage where i know that it is mine to be okay with, and my gender to decide and my presentation to design.

anyway, this was a kind of long rant, but i just love being queer, and i love being trans, and while i obviously don't want to be known as "that" trans guy in any context, my relationship with my gender and my sexuality will always be a part of who i am and i love that.

(also i hope this comes across, but this is absolutely not a hate thing on noah, i love his content and i love his music, it's just he has a different perspective on gender and identity and that got me thinking about all this stuff)

[carbo-ships]

I wonder why they don't want him anymore 😞😭 Ardis stole him away I guess

Reading that this morning made my heart hurt, uhg. He seems to be doing okay, though. General vibe is "the past is the past, let's see what comes next". I'm also reminding myself that this likely all happened several months ago, whereas the rest of us only just found out in the past couple weeks. I imagine the last-minute US tour was a nice change of pace, though, rather than just being sat at home watching the internet lose their minds.

For those joining this program already in progress and have no idea what we're talking about, the guy who plays my F/O on stage was unexpectedly replaced a couple of weeks ago and nobody knew what was going on. Like, curtain came up and somebody else was playing his guitar. Not unprecedented, the band cycles through members every now and then, but everyone was really surprised since the guitarist had been in the group since 2016 and had indicated he had no intention of leaving any time soon. Initially fans were speculating that he was probably just busy for the first couple dates of the tour and he'd be back later, or that he'd chosen to leave to pursue other projects. However, he confirmed yesterday that he is no longer in the band and that it was not his decision.

He's recording new music in between gigs right now (I think he'd initially planned to do that here in the UK before getting sent overseas unexpectedly, so his current setup is soooo relatable, my group recorded the exact same way in undergrad lol), which I'm excited about. Looks like his primary concern is just sorting out the best way to keep bills paid now that his situation's changed. Current plan is to work on his own music for the next couple years and see if that plus doing the occasional gig with friends' bands is sustainable (plus a big merch sale when he gets home in a week, so keep your eyes peeled for that if you're looking to pick up some stuff from his other projects). We'll likely never know what happened behind the scenes (or at least not for a long time), but I'm glad we at least have the basics answered so my brain can stop going "AAAAAAAA WHAT'S GOING ON AAAAAAAAAAAA".

But yes, Aeth is snuggled up at home with Ardis. He isn't the young ghoul he used to be, after all! It's time he hung up the helmet and settled down, and Ardis was the catalyst for that.

(Yes, that was a pun. I'm very funny.)

[conflictandscotchblog]

Corporate Bundles of Joy

Recently, a friend and I went to a bar where another friend, Traci, is a bartender. She just started a new day job and told us how her company sends her to HR (Human Resource) classes, has her watch videos, and basically she finds it very hard to stay engaged. Reminded me of my first days at AT&T, back in the eighties.

After general introductions, I was placed at a desk within a six-foot-tall-walled area filled with a dozen desks. Once seated, I was surrounded by strangers at the time who, all these years later (for those alive), are still my friends.

After reading a binder about Alexander Graham Bell, and the founding of the company, I was given my first real task.

Apparently, the organization I was in were about to convert an old online General Ledger to a new one. At this point, in the infancy of my finance career, as far as I knew, General Ledger was an officer in the army (he’s not).

In the morning, stacks of paper magically appeared by the side of my desk. My job was to identify, for each printed account, the old ledger code and corresponding code for the new ledger. It was all new territory for me, not only this finance arena I found myself, but this wear-a-tie-to-work-every-day place I landed.

Started to work.

I agonized over each transition I identified. In my mind, I felt that if I made a mistake, if I incorrectly matched one code with another, the entire process would fail.

This went on for days, maybe a week or more. I diligently marked one side of the ledger on the page to the other. After I created a bundle, of a hundred of pages or so, I tied them up, placed them in a file room as directed, and went back to work on the next pile.

When it was over, I appreciated a job well done, then moved on to a new project. I did not know what the next step in the ledger process was, but I assumed I helped them in some small way. In my new job, I was happy to be part of their future success.

Jump ahead several years, still worked in the group, but now I had a clear direction. Day-to-day, I knew what was expected of me. Small side projects always appeared, but I was on a defined path.

One day, a side task came up. It was simple, a few of us were to clear out a file room, throw out old, unneeded papers and boxes to make room for more current documents. This wasn’t anything new for me, being a big guy, I was often ask to move or lift heavier items.

I was also the guy that changed the water cooler bottle every time it was empty. Fun fact, that particular job I did right up until the day I retired.

Okay, back to the story.

Recycle dumpsters at the ready, we went through the room, and tossed one box after another. When one dumpster was filled, it was rolled away and replaced. Amazing how much paper we generate that ends up in the garbage. After a few days, we were almost done. The wall of boxes grew smaller and, once removed, it revealed something.

There, in the same corner I placed them a few years before, stood the bundles. They had not been moved, or touched. Back when my job was new, I agonized over each check mark, yet here they stood, never even been looked at.

“What do you want me to do with these?” I asked my co-worker as I gestured toward the bundles.

She took a quick glance over her should, then dismissively stated, “Oh, you can throw those away.”

What!

With great reluctance, I tossed each bundle, one by one, into the recycle bin.

I can’t tell you how many times, in the course of my career, that I worked on project, and never finished it. Either a new manager would take over, and want to put ‘their’ stamp on the project, or a budget changed, or simply what we planned on just didn’t work.

This was just the first.

So, welcome to corporate America, Traci.

Good luck.

[ahsokajackson]

Whew, this is SUCH a good post, from beginning to end.

You know, fanfiction is what's gotten me back into fiction writing after being absent from it a good while and fearing maybe I'd lost the spark for it entirely and didn't have any stories really left in me.

And even so, my brain still goes into this weird mode on a regular basis where I get stuck on a project and/or feel overwhelmed and become worried that whatever I wrote previously is the last thing I'll write and I have no new ideas, no new words and turns of phrase left, and am no longer capable.

The tips about going back and reading your previous work, plus the comments (that, I need to do more!) really resonate with me. When I revisit my prior works, it reminds me that even if I feel lost right now: I, at core, am capable, I know what looks good, and by some miracle I do ultimately figure out how to get there. And honestly one of my most joyous experiences is when I reach that point in time where I'm removed enough from a story that it feels like I could just be reading someone else's work, and then it's good when I read it and I can basically laugh at my own jokes that I've forgotten by now, and fangirl over my own favorite moments.

I think something that really helps with this and with being able to accept praise rather than shying away from it is the constant awareness that it wasn't just me at work. Ultimate glory goes to God, plus there are the people I've learned from across the years. People like my writing?? Subhan'Allah / Barúkh HaShém! So being able to see myself as a vessel plus knowing I've had advantages like having my friend send me or help me find very high-quality writing that's helped me improve my own skills—that makes it easier to be able to celebrate my own work and also embrace others' celebration of it without that feeling awkward or overly egotistical somehow.

It also helps that I know the crazy amount of effort that goes into getting my writing to where it ends up. With how much time, how many attempts, and how much overall work it costs me, I am very okay with having that recognized and I have no wish for what I've accomplished to be undersold.

And then with comments, those help remind me of the things I enjoyed myself and also the experiences that I hope to give to my readers to enjoy. And one especially wonderful thing is that people will be able to articulate elements that maybe I'd sensed or chosen on an instinctive level but couldn't have put into words or identified before, and that's absolutely invaluable in terms of being able to pinpoint why a particular piece of writing did or didn't work the way I wanted, and it enables me to make more deliberate efforts in the future versus just hoping I come across the right elements again.

When it comes to reading others' works, yeah, that can definitely be a mixed bag for me. Sometimes it's actually helpful, but other times it can make me feel worse (like finding a concept very similar to mine but written far better than I feel capable of doing myself). Usually I find that I'll be fine if I read content from a different fandom than the one I'm working in. That helps me avoid too much direct comparison, plus I already tend to somewhat avoid similar works even when I'm not feeling blocked or otherwise unhappy, both to try to keep my own ideas more distinct/independent from others' material and because if I'm already immersing myself in thoughts about a subject throughout the day, I can really use a break. 😅😅

And if it's within the same fandom, then I'll still usually try to find something either with different focal characters or a very different storyline and/or tone.

And in general I find watching TV shows or movies is much less taxing for both my brain and eyes when I'm really fatigued and need a break.

But sometimes reading is just the thing. Just recently, I ended up reading this wonderful Batfam story that gave me an epiphany about a current WIP; the author was worried the story meandered too much, but I loved it and I actually realized that at least part of the reason I was stumped on my own work was that I was too worried about keeping the narrative moving forward and not giving the characters enough time to experience the present moments.

I do think the biggest mental break does come with doing totally different activities like the ones listed—cooking, crafting, exercise, et cetera. I will say most of that (aside from my borderline-compulsive habit of pacing, especially when writing…) counts as additional work/strain for me, though, especially with my health issues, so watching TV and reading can be better breaks in my individual case. Social media is stressful as heck and often the negative, restlessness-sparking sort of distraction, so I fully relate to mostly avoiding that, though.

But I do find that chore time is often some of the best brainstorming time and more productive than agitatedly staring at a page—as long as I remember to make use of it.

Talking things out with my best friend, who's also a writer and constant brainstorming companion, is another thing that helps me work through both the writing problems themselves and my own doubts and frustrations about myself and the process of writing. (I suppose that's a huge exception to the social-media thing. Though that's more akin to directly texting and conversing with a specific friend, versus randomly browsing content and dealing with…everything else.)

I think a good final note here is that well before I started writing fanfiction myself, I saw both formally published works or Hollywood media that was utterly mediocre or worse, and I also saw fanfiction that absolutely blew it out of the water and was right up there with the high-quality official or traditionally released material. So I've already been adamant for years that BOTH categories have lots of lousy material to wade through, and BOTH also have amazing, wondeful creations and creators.

I always point to SapphireAlena and her Star Wars novels. I'll easily take those over Disney's trilogy, thanks—all day, every day!

It always gets to me that solo creators doing unpaid work will sometimes do far better jobs than whole teams of writers and editors who are actually being hired to put out quality work. Bloody heck, people.

Anyways, awesome, awesome post and those are my contributions to the discussion.

And here are the Batfam story & Star Wars content I mentioned in my add-on:

[Batfam story is Gen; some of the Star Wars content is Gen and some of it is M/F romance: sometimes more focal, sometimes more as an additional element alongside the action and adventure—much like the original movies, really.]

Question for fellow writers

How do you overcome/try to fight off the belief that your stories aren't worth it?

(or that your writing is 'only' good for fanfictions but that your original works wouldn't appeal to anyone?)

[angelofthepage]

"But there is one rule we all know and respect down here. Beware the ink demon." (And the spoilers associated with him.)

Hey folks, let's talk about spoilers and social media. The Bendy fandom is no stranger to reminding people regularly to tag their spoilers, there's an image that used to go around every time a new chapter was close to release asking for us to be considerate of those who couldn't play on launch. And likewise, there are a lot of people who just did not care and would not tag their stuff during the first game's release. Tumblr tends to be alright, but Twitter has some serious issues with it, and even with the mute and block tools, it's hard to avoid spoilers without logging out for the next month. I say this as a warning to all the new people joining us for this experience, since you might not be aware of what a storm you're in for.

So as you might expect, I'm here to say that tagging your spoilers would be a very good idea, and if you could do that while posting about Bendy and the Dark Revival, I would very much appreciate it please. For me this means tagging my own posts as #batdr, #bendy and the dark revival, #batdr spoilers, and #bendy and the dark revival spoilers if I share any of my thoughts publicly, and then blocking those tags so I don't see them from anyone else, just to fill in all the gaps in case someone uses one term but not the others. I'm also going to ask that you please not send any BATDR asks to my askbox until I've specified it's okay (I will post and tell you when that is, but my current guess is in early December, subject to change).

Bendy and the Dark Revival is a game we've been waiting for for a few years now, and everyone is so excited to see what's in store for this story. Just as I don't want that magic ruined for me, I don't want to ruin the magic for anyone else. I've had previous pieces of Bendy media spoiled for me on day one, and I'm not about that (looking at you people who spoiled DCTL's ending the day it officially released). I'm one of those people that can't get the game to play on day one, so I can't experience it for myself just yet. My hope is to follow SuperHorrorBro's let's play for the time being, given I enjoy his presentation style (also I just got done with his Hello Puppets Midnight Show playthrough and it was great, highly recommend it). He's good about not being too spoilery in the thumbnails and titles too, which I appreciate (seriously thank you for all your hard work Mike, you rock). Normally I would want to play a new game for myself, but I'd rather not have to log off of everything until after December. I have nutcracker stuff, Christmas projects, and voice acting to handle within that time on my other accounts. So this is the current plan.

To everyone out there excited for BATDR, I hope you all have a great time with this game, however you experience it, and that you get to choose how you experience it. Make use of the tools you have (I recommend implementing them the night before release if you're able to). Blocking, muting terms, tagging, using private chats on discord with threads and forums, readmore's here on Tumblr, extra slides with spoiler warnings on Instagram, you have a bunch of tools at your disposal to make your fandom experience and the experience of those around you a good one. I will be using all of those tools where applicable. If you bypass those tools and spoil the game for me before I'm ready to engage with the fandom, you will be blocked. I'm not someone that blocks on the spot normally, but this is one of those boundaries I'm firm on. If I can't trust you to be respectful of one of my few boundaries, I don't want you on my page.

Be safe and have fun out there, and be careful roaming through the inky halls!

[jahayla-parker]

Waves of Emotion: Tom Holland x Reader

“ @galaxyholland​ asked: Hey Love!I saw that your requests are open!I have an idea where Tom and the reader are working on a war movie. They film a scene of Tom's character coming back from the war (maybe with a broken leg and busted eye) and Y/N's character seeing him for the first time in years. They both get emotional and by the end, they confess their feelings for each other. Hope you like it!“

Thank you again for your request! I hope this lives up to your expectations! It is a bit on the long side, sorry!

Warnings: None, just ridiculously fluffy... oh and some fake injuries plus a few minor curse words

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

     “Okay that was great, folks, take 20 then get over to hair and makeup and change for the next scene” the director Max yells as I finish my current scene. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding in. The scene I just finished was one of the more emotional ones in the movie. To make matters worse, I’ve been reshooting this scene for roughly an hour. At least now Max liked my performance and I get to take a short break. Hopefully the next scene won’t be as rough. Plus, I get to see Tom. 

     I find myself grinning as I remove my mic pack and walk towards the corner of the set where Tom and I normally watch the other if we are not in the scene together. However, my smile quickly shifts into a frown when I don’t see Tom waiting for me or watching the scene I was working on. I know I shouldn’t be disappointed given he doesn’t owe me anything. We’re only friends and co-stars after all. Does part of me want more? Of course, but anyone in my position would. He is an insanely talented actor, extremely knowledgeable, ridiculously hilarious, and all around compassionate person. 

     I told myself never to fall for a co-star and until this project I’ve been able to keep that rule. This movie threw a huge wrench into that the second I started feeling this pressure in my chest whenever he’s around. Most people say it feels like butterflies in their stomach or chest when they fall for someone. For me, when I see Tom it feels like there is a spiraling ocean wave in my chest. It makes me nervous, giddy, and yet alive at the same time. While I’d be in bliss for the rest of eternity if he did, I know I can’t expect him to feel the same about me. No matter how many times I have reminded myself of that, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m feeling a repetitive sharp pang in my chest upon not seeing him. I suck in a deep breath and tell myself I’m just more emotional after the scene I just shot. 

      As I’m reluctantly making my way to my dressing room I hear someone snicker softly. I slowly lift my head up and turn towards the sound in confusion. Johnathan Bailey, who is playing my older brother Taylor in the film, is smirking at me as he walks over towards me. I raise my right eyebrow, silently asking him what he was laughing at. “What did those poor boots do to you?” he asks, pointing at my character’s “dirty” work boots. “What? Nothing, why?” I ask, feeling like an idiot for not understanding what he is referring to. His smirk never leaves his face as he leans onto the wall next to my dressing room door. 

     I was so close to making it into the privacy of my room and checking my phone before getting ready for whatever scene is next; yet, here we are. I just stare at him in response. I don’t have the energy or motivation left in me to joke back even if I knew what he was talking about. I also don’t want to be rude so I make sure my face is relaxed and not snarky as I stare at him. He scoffs teasingly and smiles “Y/N, you were dragging your feet so much down the hallway that I’m shocked there’s not a hole in the tip of the boots”. This makes my eyes go wide, I hadn’t realized my disappointment was manifesting through visible behaviors. 

     “Oh, oops… I’m just tired, that scene took a lot out of me today” I say, only partially lying. “It was a tough scene” he agrees, seemingly recalling his character and my character at their father’s funeral. “But, I think it had more to do with what didn’t happen” he says smirking again. “JB, I’m not sure what you’re referencing but I’m feeling a bit tired so I’m going to go get some caffeine from my dressing room before heading to hair and makeup” I say, trying to escape what I know he is referencing. “Y/N, you know you don’t have to lie to me about..” he pauses, looking around to make sure no one is listening, “your feelings for him. You already told me last week” he reminds me. 

     I nod, still regretting not being able to lie well enough to get through his accusations last Friday. I realize now had I approached my response as an acting exercise instead of a conversation, I probably would have been better at keeping my secret from him. “Fine, I’ll elaborate” he adds when I’m silent. “You’re upset because he wasn’t watching your scene like you two lovebirds normally do for each other, yes?” He asks. I glare at him as he says lovebirds knowing full well that’s not what we are. “I’m not upset. I’m…. disappointed” I correct him, placing my hand on the doorknob to my dressing room. “You know that doesn’t mean he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings. I’m not saying I know how he feels, but this doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you back” he says, hoping to cheer me up a bit. However, all my brain decides to hold onto is the “he doesn’t like you back” portion of his response. I force a soft smile and nod. I mumble a quiet thank you and step into my room and close the door behind me as I feel my eyes well up.

       Before I have time to get myself together all the way, I see I only have five minutes left before I need to be at hair and makeup. Cursing to myself, I squeeze my eyes shut hoping to stop the tears quickly so I can leave my room in an acceptable shape. This does nothing to stop the tears and I’m getting more upset as I think about how everyone will begin watching me closely to see why I’m crying and I can’t risk them knowing. All this does though is make it worse. I quickly push off my couch and over to the sink to splash my face with cold water. 

     Just as I’m flinching from the freezing water hitting my face, I hear someone knock softly before opening my door. I don’t look up, expecting Johnathan. “Hey Y/N/N, is it okay if we- … wait, are you okay?” I hear Tom’s voice ask tenderly as I hear him walk my way. I bite my lip and turn off the water, trying to nod my head slowly as to not shake water everywhere like a wet dog. “Are you sure darling?” He asks kindly, placing a hand on my back, causing me to stiffen my body. Tom notices and quickly removes his hand. I turn to face him and see what appears to be concern, sadness, and… disappointment? taking over his facial expression. 

     I offer him a kind smile as I dab my face with the hand towel. “I’m okay Tom, just been a long day” I say, setting the towel down. He nods looking down at our feet as he says “okay, if you’re sure. I-I didn’t mean to scare you or overstep by touching your back”. Is that what the disappointed look he had was about? I shake my head both in response to him and to clear my head of those thoughts. “You didn’t!” I say, way too quickly. However, he doesn’t seem to mind as his head snaps up and makes eye contact with me, a small smile reappearing on his unfairly handsome face. “Oh good” he says, a slight red tint peaking through the special-FX makeup of ‘dirt’ smeared on his face. I smile back at him, feeling a bit better about my day just by being with him again. 

     “You said your day was long, why is that?” he asks, placing his arm on my bicep while keeping eye contact as he blinks softly at me. How are his eyelashes so long?! I quickly squeeze my eyes shut and force them back open just as quickly to get myself to focus on the conversation and not how close we are right now. I can practically feel his breath on my face as he patiently waits for my answer. “Ohhh… ummm… just the scene earlier.. mostly” I say, unable to blatantly lie to him. He sighs tenderly and frowns “I’m sorry y/n/n. I know that scene was an emotional one. If it helps, you were killing it. Crap! Bad choice of words” he says, cringing as I giggle softly. He perks back up at that and continues “You were doing smashingly earlier love! Seeing your tears and raw emotion made my eyes water even though I knew it was coming” he says, his cheeks turning a soft shade of red again. 

     I grin widely at him, “wait, you watched me shoot the scene?!” He tilts his head slightly to the side as he raises his disheveled eyebrow, “I always do that. I love watching you act. Why wouldn’t I do that today?” I shake my head softly, “thank you Tommy” he blushes again at my nickname for him, “I just didn’t see you when we ended the scene so I figured you chose not to watch today is all”. He straightens his head as his mouth opens into the shape of an O. He sighs and moves his hand off of my arm and down to grab my hand in his leads me to the couch. 

     I follow behind him without hesitation, feeling the sensation of a spiraling ocean wave in my chest again. I watch as he sits down and softly tugs on my hand to signal he wants me to join him. I smile and nod before sitting down next to him, our hands still intertwined. I place my head on his shoulder and feel him turn his head slightly to rest his cheek gently on the side of my head. We both stay silent for a few minutes, breathing in tune with each other. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for the last few takes” he whispers, hoping not to break the tranquility. “You don’t need to apologize for that” I rebut just as quietly. “I do, I should’ve been there. If it helps, I wanted to be there” he sighs “but Lizzie needed me in costuming to finish that” he says, raising his leg into the air in front of us. Only now do I see the faux cast on his leg. I lift my head with a start in realization as to what that means. 

     He quickly shifts on the couch, dropping my hand so he can face me, “what’s wrong?”. “We’re shooting that scene today?” I ask, my voice wavering slightly. He nods tentatively, “we are darling. Max finally decided… what’s wrong with that?”. I take a shaky breath as I try to regulate my emotions, “just already emotional” I admit. He takes my hand again, holding it in his lap this time as he sits with his non-cast-covered leg bent towards him between us on the couch. “Y/n, I’ll be with you the whole time. We can both be emotional together this time. I won’t leave you alone, I promise you that” he says, causing me to have to take another shaky breath, for a different reason this time. 

       I bite my lip and watch as his eyes flicker down to my lips. “Deal, thank you Tommy. I don’t deserve you” I tell him blushing. He shakes his head rapidly and looks flustered before his eyes finally meet mine again instead of focusing on my lips. “You deserve the world y/n/n” he says as his eyes flicker back down to my lips and I find my eyes doing the same to him. I have to be blushing like an absolute idiot at this point but when he shifts his leg out of the way as he scoots closer to me, I no longer care. All I care about is him and this moment before us. He takes my chin in the palm of his hand as he slowly lifts his eyes back to mine. If I wasn’t feeling so lightheaded right now I would think he was silently asking me if he could kiss me. Before I can decide how to react, there is a loud knock on my door causing us both to stumble apart awkwardly. 

     “Y/N!” I hear someone yell through the door. I clear my throat as quietly as I can so my voice doesn’t break as I respond, “yes?”. “You’re late to hair and makeup! Is Tom in there by chance?” they ask in frustration. “Oh crap” I say as Tom also curses under his breath as we both turn to the wall clock and see it is way past time to be ready. “Yes he is” I say, mouthing sorry to him, as I don’t see a way out of it. He rubs the back of his neck and laughs softly as he shrugs. “We were just going over the scene” I add, hoping it helps. Tom stands up and holds his hand out to help me up. I smile and take it as I stand up next to him. “We’re coming” Tom says and we can hear the assistant walking off. I let out a sigh of relief that we’re not getting yelled at and we both laugh and look over at each other. “We uhh… should probably head to Natalie and Chris” he says, looking down. I smile at how he has managed to learn everyone’s name on set, including my makeup artist. “Probably” I say, instinctively squeezing his hand as I lead us in-hand towards the hallway. I don’t feel like letting go of his hand as we walk in silence but Tom doesn’t seem to mind. 

     “Okay, I know we’re all tired, but let’s run it again. More emotion this time!” Max shouts as he points at something on his clipboard while his assistant nods. I sigh to myself and run my hands down the front of my character’s dress. Tom notices and wipes his eyes as he steps closer. “I know” he sighs, taking my hand. I press my lips together in tension as I try to clear my mind. He opens his mouth to say something else when Max’s microphone’s connection beep interrupts him as Max begins to go on about how Tom needs to not look away from me my character during the most tense part of the scene, which ironically causes Tom to blush and look down. I get why he’s not looking at my character during that part, he’s trying not to get too wrapped up in the emotions of the scene. 

     “Hey, just focus on me” I whisper, squeezing his hand comfortingly. He looks back up at me and gives me a grateful smile. “And y/n, remember this is the first time Alissa is seeing her lost love Shawn in years. From the top!” Max adds and I nod at Tom. He smiles and lets go of my hand reluctantly as he makes his way to his starting point.  I take a deep breath and turn my back to him to start the scene. “Alissa!” Tom Shawn yells as my back is to him. Johnathan’s character Taylor grabs my Alissa’s shoulders to turn me towards him as I’m supposed to be frozen in shock at hearing his voice. “S-Shawn? Is that y-y-you?” I ask, as I my character takes in the bruised eye and broken leg of the man she loves. Tom nods rapidly as he his character sprints to me. 

     I allow the tears to fill my eyes as I take a shaky grip of his arms. “It’s me, my dear” he says, eyes tearing up as well. “You look just as beautiful as when I left” he says as his eyes trail my body. I quickly pull him into my arms and he wraps his arms around my back. “I love you” Tom tells me. No! Tells my character, not me, crap this is getting harder after today’s event in my dressing room. 

     I pull back slowly as I look over his body again, “a-are you okay?”. He wipes the underside of his nose and smiles widely, “the best I’ve been in years”. While I repeatedly tell myself it is just his line, the way he is saying it feels like he is saying it to me, not my character. “And, this doesn’t hurt” I ask, reaching up and gently brushing his busted lip with my thumb; happy to have an excuse to look at his lips. He shakes his head, and although not scripted, his eyes lower to my lips again. 

     I look up at him and instead of saying my next line, I cup his face in my hands and stare at him as we both are still gently crying. Tom wraps his arm behind my lower back again and pulls me closer to him before he softly pressed his lips to mine. I let out an involuntary small gasp causing him to begin to stop but, not wanting the improved scene we created to end, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back. 

     We stay like that, arms around one another as tears stream down our faces as our lips dance, for what seems like a lifetime and yet not nearly long enough at the same time. The feeling that was once a spiraling ocean wave now seems to have crested and crashed onto a warm shore where the heat is so strong I can feel it fill my lungs. When we simultaneously pull apart but maintain eye contact, there is suddenly loud applause. “That’s what I’m looking for! That’s a wrap for today” Max cheers causing me to blush as I realize what just happened and how many eyes are on us. 

     I can feel myself wanting to cry as I take in the fact that while Max enjoyed the scene, I just messed up whatever friendship Tom and I might have had. Sure he kissed me. Well, he kissed my character. But, I started the improved section of the scene and took it that direction. He was simply following suit so I didn’t look like a fool. After all, he said he was going to be there for me with this scene. I stumble backwards as my legs don’t seem to be responding well to my brain screaming at them to bolt off set. “Y/n?” Tom asks, reaching for me. 

      “I-I…” I stutter before my legs finally catch up with my brain and I speed off the set and to my dressing room. I quickly shut the door behind me and sit on the couch, resting my head in my hands as I let myself truly cry for the first time today. “Y/N, c-can I come in please?” I hear Tom whisper from outside my dressing room. Not wanting to further ruin what we have, I mumble a yes without changing my position. I hear the door creek open and then hear Tom take a shaky breath. “Fuck love, I’m such a div!” he scolds himself as he mutters other things under his breath. 

     “What?” I mumble into my hands. “Div, it is British slang for idiot” he explains and I see his shoes line up in front of mine as I look through my hands as the floor. I sniffle and lift my head off my hands and notice he is now half kneeling, half squatting, in front of me, his hair disheveled as if he was running his hands through it harshly. “No, not that. I hear you calling your brother Harry that all the time, I pieced together what it meant” I say with a hollow laugh in an attempt to distract him from my tear stained face. “I meant why are you calling yourself that?” I ask, looking down at him as he continues squatting in front of my knees.

     He sighs and closes his eyes for a moment, “okay, here it goes”. “Y/N I’m so terribly sorry if I upset you by kissing you just now. I clearly have not been handling myself the best lately and to be honest, it is because as I get to know you more I find myself falling for you more and more. That doesn’t excuse me kissing you when it was not scripted and I had not asked if you were okay with it. Truly I didn’t mean to hurt you by doing that. It is just after our conversation in here earlier today I thought maybe you liked me back and I let myself go and acted on my feelings. If you can forgive me darling, I swear I will do whatever it takes to be friends with you again. I can handle having nothing more than that, but I cannot fathom losing you entirely” Tom rambles causing me to tear up all over again. 

     “T-Tommy. I,” I sniffle, “I wasn’t upset because you kissed me. I was upset because I thought it was just an improv move to you when it meant far more than that to me as I’ve been falling for you too; so I was crushed”. Tom’s eyes widen and I notice he was tearing up slightly as well. “You.. you like me too?” He asks, seeming surprised. Knowing his feelings for me, I suddenly feel much more confident. Therefore, I slide down the couch to land on my knees in front of his crouched form and pull his lips to mine. I feel him smile into the kiss as he respectfully wraps his arms around my waist and brings us closer together. “Is that a sufficient answer?” I smirk as we pull away before biting my lip. 

     “To that question, yes. However, I have another one to ask” he says, standing up. I nod, encouraging him to continue. He holds his hand out towards me, gently helping me to my feet. “Will you go out with me?” Tom asks, a huge grin on his face.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

I hope you guys enjoyed it!!! -Jahayla

[rwwinton]

Okay guys, you know I rarely make promo posts here, but since I just had to buy a new computer after my old one finally gave up on me (it did an amazing job for 7 years, rest well old buddy), I need to put this out here. But I’m going to include a short story at the end for anyone to read!

If you want to read about my gay Boston coffeehouse owner, Nathaniel, and how he and his friends end up basically accidentally becoming rebel spies and witnesses to the beginning of the American Revolution, check out Let it Begin Here. And if you want to read about my aromantic and asexual privateer captain, Miles, and his adventures with his crew of queers on a stolen British frigate, check out Where Cannons Roar. If you already read and enjoyed these books, please remember to rate and review them wherever you purchased them, and tell your friends! Reviews are incredibly helpful for indie authors! My books are not pro-war, they are more like slice-of-life in a world where people just had to do whatever they could to make it through.

I also have a Patreon and a Ko-Fi.

If you’re into queer fantasy, I have a few things on Tapas, including a current project.

And as payment for enduring a self-promo post, here is a fluffy short story I wrote last year when I got really pissed off about some Twitter (RIP) thread with the theme of “those poor women in the past who had to endure their gay husbands cheating on them behind their backs.” My response was a purely sweet polyamorous story instead, also set in my Revolution world but after the war. (Content warning for mentions of war and also a dude trying to deal with society’s ingrained attitudes toward sexuality in the late 18th century.)

Noah looked out from the window of his house and watched as his neighbor, Luther, tossed feed to the four chickens in the yard, then walked toward the field and the two cows waiting peacefully inside. Noah had nearly lost those cows, but they had been spared by both the British and American armies that had marched across his farm. Perhaps it was because Noah had been among the American soldiers and had informed his officer that the farm was his, and had offered up three other cows to feed his fellow soldiers. He'd had more chickens before the war had begun, and two horses, but they'd not been there when he had returned.

He and Luther had served together. They had been neighbors all their lives and, being close in age, had always been friends. They had faced hell and more together in the late war, watched men killed by cannon and musket, saber and bayonet. They had marched without end and with poor supplies. Battled Redcoats and the elements. Felt the terror of battle, surrounded by the smoke of gunpowder and the cries of the wounded. They had courted death and come out nearly unscathed but for minor wounds and the nightmares that plagued them both in the early morning hours.

One morning, not long after returning home, Noah had decided to walk outside after being awoken by one such nightmare. He wanted to watch the sun rise over his small farm, to see open space where his mind expected other soldiers camped close to him, to not fear the British beyond the horizon. A treaty had been signed. That was why he was home, after all.

Luther had been sitting outside his own house, which was close enough that Noah could see him in the soft glow of the dawn, but not call to him without being too loud for so early an hour. He had invited Luther over with a wave, and Luther had soon joined him.

"I wanted to remind myself where I was," Luther had explained. "It isn't easy to sleep again when the dreams wake me."

"Will you help me with the farm?" Noah had offered.

Luther had nodded. "I would love to."

And so had begun a routine that had lasted for nearly a year. Luther came to the farm every morning and helped Noah with his daily tasks. It had allowed Noah the time to return to his business of watch and clockmaking and repair to ensure he had the money he needed to survive. He had considered selling the land for some time and moving to town, but he enjoyed the peacefulness afforded by the farm that had been his father's, where he had grown from boy to man. He knew his father would not have objected to the sale, as he had always been supportive of Noah's desires to perfect a skill and grow a business. He had secured Noah his apprenticeship to learn watchmaking, using what resources he could to send his only child to Philadelphia to be educated. He had sold pieces of the farm to pay for it, and Noah had been determined not to disappoint him. He wasn't the greatest watchmaker in all the country, but he had many customers both in town and outside it - friends and family members of locals who saw pieces he had made or repaired and wrote to him for their own pieces.

His mind wandered to the piece he had been repairing for Luther's mother, and he dreaded how he would deliver it to her once it was complete. Perhaps he could do it while Luther was at work in the print shop.

A gentle hand touched his back and he momentarily flinched, drawn from his thoughts abruptly. Another benefit to Luther's assistance was that it had also given him the time to court Penny, another friend he had had since childhood. He had been stunned to find out she had waited for his return, ignoring all other suitors until he could make it clear if he wished to marry her or not. It was an idea he had never been certain of. He certainly loved her and had for much of his life, but concerns over his own nature had prevented him from doing what any other man surely would have done many years before. But, having seen war and death, he longed for the comfort of family. With his only living relation a brother who had chosen the other side in the war, and who had left the house in shambles when he had chosen to depart, Noah had had no one else to turn to. Luther had been there, of course, but surely he meant to seek the comforts of his own family and leave behind the painful ties of war.

The memory of having had those thoughts caused sorrow to flare in his chest. He had been so terribly wrong in so many ways.

Penny slipped her arm around his waist and set her chin on his shoulder, gazing out the window at the farm lit by morning light. "You have been unhappy for a time now," she said quietly. "And it has been nearly a month since Luther joined us for dinner. If the two of you quarreled, why is he still doing work for you?"

"I don't know," Noah admitted, swallowing his pain. "I truly don't know."

She sighed and gently guided him away from the window. They sat down at the table, where breakfast had been set out while his mind had been so distracted from the present. As she sat, Noah noticed, as he always did, the growing swell of her belly that was their first child.

"Will you tell me what has happened between you?" she asked. "I don't wish to see my husband so distressed."

Noah sipped his coffee, but it did not settle well in his stomach. He swallowed heavily. "I don't wish to burden your thoughts with me. You have far too much to concern yourself with."

She gave him a sharp look, an intensity in her gray eyes that he was not used to having directed at him. "Including the concern that my husband, the father of my growing child, is struggling with something that he won't discuss." She reached across the table and gripped his hand, her expression softening. "I love you, Noah. That is why I want you to tell me. You've told me of the war, of the things you experienced - though I'm certain you failed to tell me some of the most terrible details. Yet you won't tell me this?"

Noah squeezed her hand and looked away. "It is because I love you that I don't wish to tell you."

How could he? It would destroy them. It would destroy their marriage and their family before it was truly formed. A family was all he longed for, and he could not lose his.

She sighed and stood without finishing her breakfast. "Speak to me when you've come to your senses," she told him as she left the room.

"Wait," he said, surprising himself.

She stopped and turned to him, walked up behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Go on, love."

He did, before he lost his courage. His body shook as he confessed the truth, spoke the confession he had secretly longed to make. He told her how, nearly a month previous, Luther had assisted him in repairing the fence. The weather had turned on them, but they had persisted until the first drops of rain had become a torrent. They had run to the barn with the intention to return to their work once the downpour had ceased. They had arrived sputtering and soaked through, and had laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Luther had stumbled in the near darkness, and Noah had caught him, and they had laughed again. They had laughed until something had come over them, standing there in each other's arms, and then they had kissed. For Noah it had felt like the awakening of something he had long repressed, and he was powerless to stop, to remove himself from Luther's arms or end the passion growing between them. And so they had pleasured each other there, in the nearly empty barn, their moans and gasps lost in the howling of the wind and the lashing of the rain. 

But Noah had been consumed by guilt from the moment it had ended. He had left Luther there, looking painfully heartbroken, and fled to the house despite the continued downpour. Since that day he had not spoken to Luther, had not left the house when Luther was on the farm.

"I cannot undo what has been done," he concluded, still shaking and stunned to still feel Penny's hands on his shoulders. "But I am terribly sorry. You cannot understand how sorry I am. I have wronged you, sinned against our marriage twice over. I can only promise it won't happen again."

"How can you promise that?" she asked. Her tone was gentle, but her grip on his shoulders was tight. "Do you mean never to speak to him again?"

The thought pained him. He already missed their conversations and their quiet morning work terribly. Penny knew what he had experienced in the war, most of it, but Luther had lived it with him. He had seen the things Noah had seen. He longed for the same comfort Noah did. At first, Noah had thought that the sole reason for his attraction and his yearning for his neighbor, but he knew it went farther into his past than that. He had always desired Luther, always seen him as wonderfully handsome. Yet, he had always been able to ignore those thoughts and desires by reminding himself that such a thing was not right. He'd focused his thoughts on beautiful women, especially Penny, and found his desire for them to be just as strong. It was a relief, he thought, to feel that way, to be able to distract himself from handsome men and remind himself how he ought to be. But his shared wartime experiences with Luther had brought their friendship closer, and even as he confessed to his patient, loving wife how he had sinned twice over against her, he felt shame at being unable to ignore the ache in his heart over the loss of Luther's companionship.

"If that is what I must do," he replied, his voice tight, tears wetting his cheeks.

She squeezed his shoulders. "Do you love him?"

The question was unexpected and brought him pause. He cleared his throat and confessed, "What I feel in my heart when I think of him is the same as when I think of you."

"You love him."

He bowed his head, covered his face with his hands. "I do."

She sat down beside him then, and pulled his head to her shoulder. "Then how could I ask you never to speak to him again? How could I ask you to give him up?"

He pulled away from her abruptly. There were tears on her cheeks and she looked utterly, terribly sad. "I won't abandon you," he declared. "You are my wife. You carry our child. I'm a husband, soon to be a father. I love you, and I'm committed to you and our family. I can't abandon you for such a life of sin." A thought suddenly occurred to him and he realized what her words might truly have meant. "Unless you wish for me to leave. I understand if you don't wish for someone as vile as myself around your child."

"Our child," she corrected. She reached out and gripped his hand firmly. "I love you, Noah. I want you to know your child, and I want more than one child. I want you to be the father of them, because I believe you will be a great father. You are not unnatural or vile. You are as God made you to be, with the ability to love deeply. Had you told me it was only something done out of lust, not because you love him, I would feel different I suppose. But Luther is a good man, and I know he must feel similarly toward you. Look how he still comes and helps with the farm work despite you acting as if he no longer exists. You have known each other all your lives, just as I have known you all of mine. If there is love between you that is happily expressed through kisses and sex, who am I to deny that?"

Her frank words left him staring dumbly at her.

She ran a hand through his dark brown hair, flecked in places with gray, then caressed his freshly-shaved cheek. "I love you, Noah. I want to see you smile and laugh again, as you haven't since this happened between you and Luther. I want you to speak to him, to repair your friendship if he'll allow it. I want him to visit again, to sit at our table and be a welcome uncle to our children."

He could scarcely believe what he was hearing. "Penny...?"

She smiled and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. "There is only one thing I fear," she added.

He swallowed. "What is it?"

"That you will forget me," she said quietly. "That you will prefer his company to mine."

"No," he swore, reaching for her and holding her tightly. "I love you all the more for this and I could not possibly forget your kindness and love. If there is ever a time you feel I am neglecting you, I want you to tell me. Even if Luther won't have me now and it is only us. I have a duty to you, as your husband, and I don't wish to ever disappoint you."

"I promise you," she said, sliding her arms fully around him. "I love you, Noah, for all that you are."

"Thank you," he breathed, and then broke into sobs, face pressed to her shoulder.

That evening, Noah walked to Luther's house when he knew Luther would have returned from his daily work at the print shop. It had taken him some time to compose himself after his conversation with Penny. He had not even gone to town himself to work in his shop, which he knew would put him behind on several orders. But Penny's unquestionable love and acceptance had left him feeling raw and exposed, yet not in a terribly bad way. He could put forth no other words to describe how he felt. He and Penny had spent the day together, assuring each other of their love. They had made love in the afternoon, and afterward Penny had listened thoughtfully while he had attempted to decide what he would say when he went to speak to Luther and offered her own advice.

He still felt terribly unprepared as he walked to the door of the house. Smoke drifted from the chimney, telling him that someone was home, though he didn't know if it was Luther or his mother. He took a deep breath and knocked.

It took a long moment for anyone to answer, but the door opened at last and Luther stood in the doorway. He looked disheveled, pieces of his dark hair fallen from his queue and his plain blue waistcoat partially unbuttoned. His face looked drawn, his eyes shadowed and stubble evident, the scar on his cheek from the ball that had nearly cost him his life or his jaw standing out among the dark shadow of hair.

"Noah?" he asked, his surprise obvious in his wide brown eyes.

Noah was immediately uncomfortable and his heart ached at the thought of what his appearance might mean. "I shouldn't have come unannounced," he said quickly. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting your evening."

He almost turned to leave, but Luther seemed to realize his meaning. "I'm alone," he said quickly. "Mother is visiting her sister. I had a drink and fell asleep by the fire. I haven't been sleeping well."

Noah shifted uncomfortably and nodded, feeling foolish. "I'd like to speak with you."

Luther stepped back and motioned for him to step through the doorway. "Come in."

Noah did so and followed Luther to the chairs by the fire. Luther poured them each a drink, then sat across from him. He looked uncertain and swallowed a long drink of his whiskey.

"I wanted to apologize," Noah began.

"No need," Luther replied before he could say anything more. "It was wrong of me to instigate what happened between us. I didn't mean to cause you or Penny any pain. It was selfish and thoughtless of me."

"I'm sorry for leaving so abruptly," Noah continued, ignoring Luther's apology. "I hurt you. I should not have run as I did. What happened in the barn that day was something I had wanted to happen between us for years. Many years."

Luther appeared surprised. "What of Penny?" he asked. "I know you love her. You always spoke of her and wrote to her constantly."

"I do love her," Noah said with a nod. "The way I feel about you is the same. You mean much to me, Luke."

A look of pain crossed Luther's face. "You mean much to me, but please, don't tell me this. I won't allow you to harm your marriage. Penny doesn't deserve it. I never believed in the the sin of sodomy because it hurts no one unless it's forced - and then those forcing themselves on others are guilty of something far worse. But adultery harms others. I don't want to cause her any pain when she discovers you have been unfaithful to her. I can't allow myself to be involved in any more of it."

"She knows," Noah told him, earning another surprised look from Luther. "I confessed it all this morning. She doesn't wish to come between us."

Luther looked away. "She's ending it then?"

"No," Noah assured him. "She accepts you - me - us. I admitted how I felt toward you and she wishes to make you a member of our family, if Uncle Luther is a title you are willing to accept."

"She wants that?" Luther asked, his voice tight and his fear evident, as if he didn't dare believe Noah's words.

"She does. She encouraged me to seek you out and right the wrong I committed by running from you. I love you, Luther, and Penny believes you are a good man. I believe it, too."

Luther wiped tears from his eyes. "How could such an arrangement work?"

"I don't know yet," Noah confessed, "but I know we will sort out the details and find a routine that pleases all three of us. I believe it possible, and Penny does, as well. It is only a question of what you wish for, what you desire."

Luther laughed lightly. "I desire you, and the ability to tell you everyday that I love you. I wish to share our pain together, and comfort each other. I desire to dote on your children and spoil them as an uncle would, as neither of my sisters seem ready to give me nieces and nephews to fuss over. I wish to be a friend to Penny so she need not fear that I plan to steal you entirely away from her. I love you, Noah, and what I desire more than anything is to share a life with you, if you'll have me."

"Of course I will," Noah replied. "If the world were different I would have thought to marry you before I thought to marry Penny. She is a true friend and I love her dearly, but she did not endure what we have endured together. She knows me, understands me, but you know me from our shared experiences. But I want children, a family, also."

Luther chuckled. "I certainly can't give you those."

"You used to tell me you weren't certain if you wanted to marry and have children," Noah said, thoughtful. "Do you truly mean that?"

Luther shook his head. "I don't wish to marry or be a father, but it would have been difficult to admit the truth when it is all because I have no desire for women. I have always expected to support my mother until she is gone, then see to any children of my sisters. Had my father lived to see me now he would certainly have his own opinion on the matter, but Mother simply wants me to be content, even if it means lifelong bachelorhood. I think now I truly will be happy."

Noah stood, and Luther followed. They embraced and held each other as tightly as they were able. Noah felt Luther tremble and tightened his hold even more.

It was some time before they released each other and dried their eyes.

"I love you," Luther whispered.

"And I love you," Noah replied.

"Will you stay a few more hours?"

Noah smiled. "I would love to. Will you come inside for breakfast tomorrow? I believe Penny wishes for us three to talk."

Luther nodded. "Of course." He then leaned close again and, cupping Noah's face with both hands, kissed him softly.

The kiss quickly turned passionate, and only ended long enough for Noah to follow Luther to his small bedroom.

When Noah returned home it was only slightly later than he had originally planned. Penny had not waited for him, but had gone to bed without him. He changed quickly into his nightshirt by the light of a single candle, hoping not to disturb her, but he heard the bedropes creak as she turned over on the bed to look at him.

"Did the meeting go well?" she asked.

"Yes." He extinguished the candle and slipped into bed beside her. "I believe all is well. He will join us for breakfast to discuss it."

She found his hand in the darkness and squeezed it. "I'm happy to hear that. I had hoped it had gone well and that was why you were delayed."

Noah chuckled. "That is precisely why I was delayed, yes." He rested his head against her shoulder and drew a deep breath. "Thank you."

"Of course," she murmured. "You are more than welcome."

When Luther entered the kitchen the next morning, Penny did not hesitate to embrace him, and he did not hesitate to return the gesture. She kissed his cheek and welcomed him, and Noah saw the tear that escaped his eye.

"You are welcome in this house as long as Noah desires it. I visit my mother and sisters often, and I have much to do myself. Don't allow my presence to disturb you."

Her frankness seemed to surprise Luther, but he nodded. "Thank you."

"Of course," she added, "once the babe is old enough to notice things, more care will be needed to ensure your safety."

"When the time comes I may simply add a lock to the barn door," Noah suggested, only partly in jest.

Luther smiled at that. "And there is my house, though my mother needs to be considered." He turned his gaze back to Penny and took her hand. "You will never truly understand how grateful I am to you, and I promise I will never seek to demand Noah's full attention. We both love him, and he loves us both. I thank you for this opportunity to become a member of your family."

She smiled and patted his cheek with her other hand. "And I promise the same to you, for the same reason."

Noah, feeling deeply emotional, stepped forward and embraced them both, thankful to have such an accepting future.

[maudus1]

What are you currently working on? 💐

Oh gosh, what a loaded question 😅

Um, well, I've been kinda struggling lately and feel pretty bad about not updating/posting fast enough but I am still working on finishing my current WIPs as well as starting some new projects.

There's Let Go and Unleash, which has one chapter left (and potentially an epilogue, though that may come as a timestamp down the road, we'll see). It's an a/b/o pwp that was supposed to be short and cracky and fun but then my brain said hey, what if we inject like, a fuckload of internal conflict and feelings into this? My brain is kind of a dick like that.

Then ofc Troubled Water, which is a much longer and more time-consuming work. It's kinda personal to me I guess, as my first Obikin longfic, so I want to make sure every chapter is "perfect" before posting (although my friends and those few who do follow my work closely probably know I am a notorious over-editor so nothing goes untouched for very long).

From here to October, I have ObikinFest prompts to contend with. Idk if I can manage all four but I claimed them anyway just so I have the reminder. You never know when inspiration will strike, after all. There is at least one out of them that I am absolutely determined about though, and it's an undercover Sugar Daddy AU, so that'll be fun (I fucking loooove undercover missions okay).

I maaaaaay apply for the Obikin Zine as well. I don't wanna overload myself, but it's an incredibly short max and entirely doable so I know I would be doing myself a disservice in not trying. Idk that I would ever get picked, but in the off chance I did, I think it would be a cool and fun experience and I would love the opportunity to contribute to the fandom in that way.

So, that covers "obligation" type stuff. Aside from everything else, I also have like, a huge backlog of WIP ideas stored in a Doc. Basically every time an idea strikes me, I jot it down. Everything from canonverse to modern to time travel AUs. I'll share one with you:

That's how most of the Doc looks lol. Going on a few dozen at this point. I also have other WIPs that are more developed but not enough so to post yet. I gotta remind myself to be patient. I would rather perfect a work first than publish half-assed, cuz y'all deserve my best. 💙

Anyway, I appreciate the ask, and I hope this gives you some stuff to look forward to! Thank you 🥰

[tinyhistory]

How do you not keep from losing inspiration and/or motivation when you write?

P.S. I hope you’ve had a wonderful day today!

Thanks anon, and thank you for such an interesting ask!

First off, I lose inspiration and motivation all the time. It’s totally normal and an expected part of the writing process. Sometimes I lose it for days, weeks, months. I lose it halfway through one-shots, I lose it two chapters into a story, I lose it a few scenes from the end of a longfic.

I never force it. Writing should be a place of joy. I don’t ever force myself to sit down and write, or set writing goals. I just acknowledge my current head space — “I’m not enjoying writing right now, so I’ll take a break for as long as I need. And that’s okay.” And then I go ahead and take that break.

I think you can work on your writing skills during that break, though, even if you never write a single word.

Further long-winded advice below:

Experiences.

Try to experience new things during your break. No, not all those very expensive and time consuming suggestions people often have (I am 100% not going deep sea diving or buying an opera ticket).

But you can listen to new music (I tried out some Gregorian chanting the other day. It was…different). Read some poems online. Go to a museum website — they often have virtual, free exhibitions. Look up events (festivals, celebrations, carnivals) in different places around the world — events you will never attend, but you’ll read about them anyway. Things that might later lead to a new idea or inspiration.

Notice Things.

Stop and look around in your daily life. From noticing a particular bird-call when you’re standing outside, to noticing the way the city smells after heavy rain. Or, if you live somewhere with a garden — even a tiny one — find out the names of the weeds in your garden. Look them up. Notice their different textures and shapes and colours. Tuck all of these things away in your mind, and next time you sit down to write, you’ll have a lot of details to draw upon.

Find Stories.

If you’re like me, sometimes you can go months (even years…) without picking up a book or a fanfic. You just don’t feel like reading.

That’s okay. There are millions of stories, all around us, every day. A conversation at a bus stop, the lyrics to your favourite song. A box of sepia photographs dumped at a thrift shop, two initials and a heart scraped into wet concrete.

And there’s bigger stories online; my local library network, for example, has digitised an entire collection of surgeon’s journals written by doctors aboard convict ships. It’s also digitised two centuries of local newspaper articles, and has uploaded a collection of mugshots from prisoners in the 1880s. Plenty of characters, plots, and settings await discovery. Look at your local history and archives.

Keep Creating.

Practise the art of creating for the sake of creation. Make mood boards or aesthetics that you don’t intend to show anyone. Have fun making a faux movie trailer for one of your stories. Make a drawing or painting of one of your settings. Or do something completely unrelated to your stories — do a tutorial on macramé, or try soap-making, or learn how to press flowers. Anything you want. Just go back and remind yourself what it’s like to create something just for the joy of it.

Something I do, when I’m going for a walk or spending time in a park, is make temporary art. I collect leaves of different colours, then rearrange them on a rock to create a rainbow. Or collect pebbles and arrange them to make a pattern. When I’m finished, I leave. I know when I eventually return, my creation will be gone. I won’t know if anyone liked it, or even noticed it. I won’t know if it naturally fell apart or scattered, or if someone destroyed it. I won’t know if it brought someone joy or not.

But that’s the point. Finding the part of me again that creates because of internal motivation (self-expression, enjoyment) rather than external motivation (feedback from others, reactions, responses).

And if all else fails:

So when you do return to your writing, it might be with new ideas for settings, characters, and plots. But if you find yourself still lacking the desire to continue a story —

— then don’t. Start a new story, if you’d prefer, or turn your attention to other stories you’re writing. If you still don’t want to write at all, that’s okay. Spend time on other projects. Things you are enjoying. Writing should be an old friend who greets you at the door, not a stranger demanding endless tasks and chores from you.

[cooloddball]

Someone submitted something in my inbox and they wanted to remain anonymous. Since this is an extremely long essay, I will put it under the cut. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

xxx submitted: hey, i was the one who ask what do you think of Misha and Jensen's current relationship First off all thank you for your answear it means much to me cause im easy to be convice and this person who keep telling me that they are no longer friends can be so convicing, so I'm actully trying to forget what she said 😅 so I'm just writing a few. she said that since they no longer work together, they will forget about each other, and do their common things like the gay jokes, face touches ect. With other people, and neglect each other, don't talk to each other, and then meet new people who will replace the other. And and she talked about the gish thing, she said she sure they didn't talk since the end of the series, because Jensen didn't know where Misha was and Misha didn't know about the Radio Company vol 2 (but i saw people say that, they were just pretending, because Misha liked something about Radio Company Vol 2, before the gish live, so in theory he already knew then or something like that) and She said Misha wrote a poem about Darius not Jensen and now I will write down what she sent me : I saw a post about Jensen's current activities on social media, and I've come to the conclusion the only person he doesn't interact with is mish. Sadly this makes my break up theory even stronger. I feel like this is a goodbye to one of the biggest parts of my life. They've moved on from "uk what I haven't told you today? That i love u"+ from "miss my only jensen" from "i love u misha i mean it from the bottom of my heart" from "jensen has no flaws" from "misha is the funniest thing ever happened to me" from all that love and affection from everything they developed together and now they're apart leaving their lives like nothing happened and call me a dramatic but they both have the same energy now as someone has after a big break up. and Jensen comments on almost every of his friend’s post except Misha’s"+ Jenmish is genuinely the best thing that has ever happened in my entire life. I owe them literally everything. They're the reason i hold on. Unfortunately on this essay i have to start using past tense verbs for them, and i have to continue on that. I don't know for how long y'all been in spn fandom. But even if u joined one year before the show ended you'd know how close and intimate jensen and misha were. Everything about them was unmatched.+ The chemistry and how they just fit eachother. They had always been all over eachother. Like they were holding on eachother for dear life. They completed eachother and were like world's most powerful thing. They were the definition of soulmatism. No matter where, they ALWAYS kept interacting with eachother. Each possible tweet or insta post. On cons that the other wasn't there, the other one would bring up the othere's name for no absolute reason. +The looks and repeated love confessions. How invested they were both into eachother. The family they had built together cuz we know how close dee and mish are (look all the charity work they've been doing together recently). There are youtube videos to proof everything I've said so far.When i say break up, my real intention is that they've grown apart. Everything started in the the third or forth month of pandemic. Before than jensen used to interact +(comment mostly) on almost all of misha's posts. But after a while everything just stopped. At first personally didn't care that much. Bcuz I believed too much in them that I thought not even the gods above could separate them. I told myself maybe they spend long hours chatting or video calling and that's why online public interactions are gone. But as it passed it almost diminished to zero. Except some likes from jackles and eventual ones from misha there weren't anything else.+ We got absolutely no content and the show went off too. We were helpless and were sticking to everything we had Dee had a big social media shot down, so as jensen. Misha was busy with the election. We got some interviews for it with all of them. But we didn't get much.except remember both of them pulling a bff

move. and texted eachother during an online con where everyone else were dead-serious about politics? That flickered something in me. That showed me that+ they can't ever possibly let eachother go. And the times everyone else were talking and these too would just talk random things together (the one jackels had a white hat on with stacy abraham).And then Misha posted that for jensen's bday We really overlooked it. That shit was too intimate. To close. Fav march baby? U just don't go around and called ur bestie baby and when u mean it deeply. Especially not when ur friend is jensen ackles the "I suffered form internalized homophobia my whole life+ but fuck my wife's an angel and i have an angel bf too and another angel which is his wife but I'd rather die than come out cuz my asshole dad pulled a John winchester on me". It doesn't work like that. But uk how mish is. Carefree and open. I believe they got into a fight bcuz of this. He didn't even like the post. AND that was when the tiny bit of interactions we had was gone too. For a while jensen didn't even liked his posts. After a month it started again.What made me finally believe in that they had grown too+ far: I still remember the night misha posted that he and jensen were going to have a con for gish together. I remember how hard I cried. Lile the whole world was given to me. But deep down in my heart I knew that something would definitely happen. It didn't sit right with me and unfortunately my senses never lie to me. Jensen showed up at the wrong time bcuz of misunderstanding the time zones (this was HILARIOUS). That's not even my point.+ I've seen that interview 3 times so far. It always reminds me of when i saw my ex at a party and we were both so thrilled to see eachother and we still loved the other dearly, but we just couldn't work it out. Jensen and Misha's expressions were EXACTLY the same. The genuine smiles and longs pauses were they just stared at eachother. I'm so happy that it was online cuz if they actually gave that looks to eachother standing right next to the other one I would've collapsed. Misha didn't know that jensen's album+ was out. And he got so embarrassed when he found it out. He didn't know that jensen was on set and hadn't been home for 8weeks. Jensen had no idea where misha was. And this means that they hadn't talked in a long long time.When you're that close with someone for more than a decade, i mean THAT close, even if u're separated from eachother you'd at least check on the once a week, or at least once in two weeks. But it was vividly clear that they hadn't. I hate how this world works. They would always be in my heart.+ I would be thankful from them for everything. It hurts, and it won't stop and im so sure I'd be carrying this pain for a long time. They mean too much to a lot of us. Sometimes I think to myself that god i love them so much. Remember in 2019 when we used to get SO many jenmishdee interactions? That was LIT. It was THEE year for us. I hope they're doing good. I really do. I hope we don't get more proofs and I won't have to update this thread. Cuz my heart won't be taking it very+ well.Something i gotta add U may say that Jensen's busy and that's why he doesn't comment. But he comments on a lot of jared and his new costar's posts. So that's no excuse. So yeah that's it. I don't know what am I supposed to think. english isn't my native language, so sorry for the mistakes

Here is my response:

I don't know who this person who has been talking to is but I have to say they seem to be project their previous relationship experience on cockles.

I believe Jensen and Misha are okay and are together. Social media likes and comments don't mean anything. I mean it's not like Jensen or Misha used to comment on each other's posts before. Jensen didn't even wish Dee Happy Mother's Day this year, does that mean they are not together anymore? Nope. He has other best friends he has known for over 20 years like Jason Manns, Steve Carlson etc that he doesn't wish happy birthday, does that mean they are not friends anymore.

Please let's not put value on social media likes. I don't even follow my own family on sm and I don't always like or comment on my bf's or bff's posts on sm. So it doesn't mean anything.

As for the Gish Panel, I have talked about it before, the time Jensen was slotted to attend the panel, he was meant to answer fan questions. I honestly believe they decided to not do it at that time because they knew the questions would be about Destiel and not their new projects. If you watched that panel, Misha knew that Jensen's album was out as I pointed out. He was just trying to promote the album and soldier boy. He knew Jensen had also buffed out. It was all to promote Jensen. Anything else you hear is trolls and antis just being loud. Also don't forget Jensen called him "babe".

If Jensen and Misha weren't okay, he wouldn't have attended or participated all those panels Misha organized especially for Gish. Danneel also posts a lot about RA and likes Misha's posts. I am 100% Misha visited the Ackles when he went to Colorado last month.

Stop listening to trolls and/or antis or just people who are projecting and look at facts.