#until my therapist pointed it out lol and was like 'it might be time to consider medication'

[villa-kulla]

2024 in review:

January: Strong start, fun at work, creative plans, many outings with new people, successful birthday cocktail bash thrown, plans to keep the momentum going -

January 23rd: cat dies

February: depression/crippling loneliness

March: depression/crippling loneliness

April: depression/crippling loneliness

May: depression/crippling loneliness

June: depression/crippling loneliness

July: depression/crippling loneliness/therapy

August: start dating this guy with whom i have a history because that's just what people do isn't it? he loves me and is ready to settle down, so maybe this is it, maybe i should just settle and join this club of monogamy and kids that i've watched every single one of my close friends join over the past 3 years, leaving my the 7th wheel at every single social function because it's ridiculous that I'm in my early 30s and my most significant relationship was with a cat, maybe it's time to finally grow up and settle for someone, you had a very slutty bisexual 20s back when it was cute, but as long as you're still somewhat attracted to guys, might as well let the pendulum settle that way because it'll be societally easier for you in the long run, and all the while you can ignore the voice in the back of your head that this is wrongwrongwrong and you don't want this, also it's too embarrassing to have a sexuality crisis in your 30s when you've been out since your teens but whatever, and you should settle down anyways because maybe it'll give your life purpose i mean look at your past year, maybe you wouldn't have taken the death of your cat so hard, at least you'd have a built-in social circle, and everyone does say that they never felt truly alive until they have kids/partner, and while your parents never pressure you they've certainly hinted that it's weird you haven't settled down yet and you'd be happier with a family of your own, therefore obviously my life must have no other value, maybe they're right, so let's settle down with a guy whom i quite honestly find irritating now and who doesn't spark joy but it's been hard to tell because everything is irritating to me lately and nothing sparks joy, and i try so hard and stay reasonably social and have hobbies that get me out of the house and am financially stable with a challenging full-time job that's sometimes rewarding and eat well and exercise a lot and these are all Healthy™ things to do so why do i feel like dying every time i wake up and have to face getting through the day, and isn't it pitiful that the one who was always Little Miss Talented and Smart and Pretty growing up has amounted to a sad, lonely, unfulfilled girl who hasn't lived up to any of her creative potential, and people will always see her as a cat lady except even more pathetic because her cat is dead, and maybe my best years are really behind me, and i'll just be stuck forever tagging along after friends who've moved on with their lives, so better commit to this guy you find tiresome right because husband + kids = happiness, maybe those nuclear family people are onto something, maybe husbands and kids are for when the rest of your friends get husbands and kids and you start to lose them because the friendship is different no matter what anyone says, and you've always been good at forcing yourself to do what's good for you, and deep down you know this is nonsense and won't solve anything, but it can't possibly make things worse than you've felt all year, and also this Guy feels like his life is starting over with you, but you feel like your life is ending with him, and the only reason you'd stay with him is so people don't pity you, and more than anything you can't bear for people to pity you and you suspect they all secretly are pitying you simply because you're single and there must therefore be something fundamentally wrong with you, and you used to be able to dismiss thoughts like that as stupid, but then again you used to be a lot more happy, and it gets harder and harder to ignore the thought that something is wrong with you, and the only thing worse than other people's pity is self-pity and every time you stop and think about your unhappiness you cry because you don't see how you'll ever feel happy again and you know you don't deserve to feel this way, but you can't actually remember the last time you were happy, it was certainly before your cat died, and I miss him so much and could this guy just stop fucking texting me for one second, oh god it's me, hi, i'm the problem it's me -

September: depression (but busy!)

October: Meds! / break up with guy + floods of relief!

November: Don't even remember

December: Actually kind of okay!

Anyway, Happy almost New Year!

[todayisafridaynight]

psst for my stream regulars

How does the idea of me starting streams at like 1:30PM (EST) sound. i’ll still plan to run them to like 5:00PM (EST) but now its more definite it’ll actually end then opposed to accidentally going on until like. 7:30PM (EST)

Also im on mobile so i cant make a poll so you gotta let me know through like a comment or somethin ok ty

[yongseungkim]

.

[covenofagatha]

Sex therapy

Your sexual life has been...lacking for the past year. Enter sex therapist Dr. Agatha Harkness to help you out.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: patient x therapist, mentions of sex and masturbation, guided orgasm, dirty talk

A/N: we just learned about sexual disorders in one of my classes and my professor kept talking about sex therapy lol so here we go (I hope this is good/hot I just genuinely couldn't stop thinking about it and had to write something) and maybe part 2?

The first thing you notice when you open the door to the waiting room is the smell. 

It’s slightly earthy with a hint of honeysuckle and sweet undertones. Not unpleasant, but it does little to calm your nerves. 

The lobby is small, cozy almost, with only four gray chairs tucked against one wall and a rectangular wooden coffee table in front of them with a short stack of magazines on it. 

Across from the furniture is the front desk and you step in front of it, waiting for the blonde receptionist sitting behind it to look up at you. She’s typing something on the computer and in the reflection of her glasses, it looks like she’s filling out a form. 

After standing there for a few moments, you clear your throat, trying to make it sound natural and not pointed. It works and the lady looks up at you with a smile that looks like more of a grimace. 

“How can I help you?” she asks. You tell her your name and she scrolls down on her screen before clicking. “First time?” 

“Oh, um, yes,” you answer, cheeks heating up. 

She looks you up and down. “You can go ahead and have a seat, you’re all checked in. Dr. Harkness will be with you shortly.” 

Muttering a quick “Thank you,” you pick the chair closest to the exit to settle into and anxiously tap your fingers against your leg. 

You barely have time to rethink your decision when a door on the wall of the front desk opens and a woman steps out. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun with a few strands loose and framing her face. She’s wearing white pants and a blue and gray striped shirt with black ankle boots. Black glasses rest on her nose. She looks around futilely—for there’s no one else in the room—before her eyes fall on you. 

She calls your name. You wipe your hands on your pants, swallow roughly, and stand up, nodding with a stiff smile. She beckons you forward and you obey, feeling a tug in your gut.  

“I’m Dr. Harkness,” she says warmly, pushing the door even more open so you can walk by her. You pause so she can get in front of you and she takes you down to the second door on the left. “But you can call me Agatha. I want you to feel comfortable while we’re here.” 

She opens it for you and you feel her hand on your lower back, guiding you in. It’s a small room, dark with about ten lit candles. There’s a warm scent of vanilla and jasmine and you deeply inhale. 

Agatha steps in next to you and the door closes shut behind you both. She points to the blue couch across from a chair. “Why don’t you have a seat there?”

The cushion dips under you as you perch on the edge and Agatha sits down in the chair and crosses one leg over the other, grabbing the yellow notepad from the side table and a pen in her left hand. You’re not exactly sure where to look—at the posters on the wall? At your fingers? At her? Who talks first? Should you say something?

She clicks the pen. “So, do you want to start with what brought you here to sex therapy?

You cringe at the words. Sex therapy is definitely not something you’d ever even think of. You didn’t even know what it was until about three weeks ago. It’s a bit unnerving how she just wants to get right into it—although, what kind of small talk were you expecting?—but you suppose you’re paying for a session so you might as well get the most of it.

“Um, I just…I just haven’t been having good sex lately. Like, I haven’t been feeling much at all and it’s fine, but I just can’t really focus or get into it, you know?” You pick at imaginary lint on your pants to avoid having to meet Agatha’s scrutinizing gaze. “I got a little drunk a month or so ago and was complaining to a friend about it. She said I should look into this and you were the closest therapist to me.”

Your friend had laughed when you told her that you hadn’t had an orgasm in about a year but her eyebrows had then shot up when she realized you were serious. She had promptly pulled out her phone and searched sex therapists near me. You had reluctantly moved next to her to scroll through the results and she let out a low whistle when she got to Agatha’s practice. She’d shown you the headshot of the woman sitting in front of you and you had to pretend to be unimpressed. 

But really, you felt more heat in your stomach than you had in awhile. 

“When did this start happening? When did you start noticing that you weren’t really feeling much?” 

It takes you a moment to ponder the question. Things had been relatively good with your ex-girlfriend two years ago. You had been together for almost two years before things just fizzled out. Both of you had decided the break up was for the best, even though the sex was normally pretty good. 

After that, there had been a series of hook-ups and flings, mostly casual sex that never turned into anything more. It had been alright, nothing special. You came about half the time. 

But then you’d gotten a promotion at work about a year ago and started seeing someone more seriously and sex turned into a chore. And when you did have sex, you stared blankly at the ceiling and couldn’t stop from thinking about all the work you had to do or making a grocery list in your head or desperately trying to will yourself to be into your girlfriend’s tongue on your clit but it just felt like nothing. 

It wasn’t her fault, no, the problem was you. Even masturbating seemed hard and you’d end up stopping in the middle of a session just because you weren’t getting anywhere. 

She had broken up with you about three months ago because you started rejecting her advances or just wanted to focus on her. You could make her come with no problem, but you shied away from her touch after, because even faking it was getting to be too much work. 

You haven’t even tried having sex since then. Seeing a therapist for your problem was clearly a long time coming and you’re not sure why you didn’t think about it sooner. 

“I don’t know, work has just become a lot and it’s hard to keep my mind from wandering while I’m having sex. I don’t know what changed—can stress really just kill your libido?” 

Agatha hums and frowns. “Sometimes. It’s not usual for it to essentially turn off feeling though. How’s the foreplay been before having sex?”

Shrugging, you pick at the skin on your cuticles. It’s a bit weird being this open about it with someone you just met. “Um, it’s not bad. There is foreplay. And I mean, there isn’t a problem with lubrication or anything.” Your cheeks heat up and you dare to peek up at Agatha. 

She’s staring at you with an intense look. It makes a strange feeling grow in your stomach, something akin to arousal if you had to put a name to it. 

“Are you actually attracted to the people you’re having sex with?” 

“What?—Of course,” you snap. She holds up her hands in defense and writes something on the notepad. But now that you think about it, and not that you’d ever tell her, you’re not sure that you have because you’ve never had the physical reaction you’re having to her with anyone else. 

Which is just great, really. Leave it to you to be attracted to your sex therapist, the one person who is arguably off-limits. 

Then you start to wonder if this happens often for her. Do her other patients blur the lines, start associating her with sex? You don’t actually know what you’re going to be doing in these sessions, but you could definitely see some lines being crossed in your head. 

“Are there any needs you have that might not be fulfilled in your sex life? Any kinks, fetishes, things you like that you aren’t engaging in that could bring you pleasure?” she asks, looking at you expectantly. 

How can she be so calm when it feels like you’re about to explode? “Not that I know of,” you answer hoarsely. 

“Hm. No choking or bondage or pain?” 

You choke on your own saliva. “I mean, I’m sure I like it as much as the next person, but it’s not necessary.” 

A wry smile plays on her lips at your attempt at deflective humor. “Daddy kink? Mommy kink? Degradation? Praise?” 

“I…I don’t know,” you rasp. For the first time in almost a year, you think you might actually want to touch yourself. 

Agatha thinks for a moment. “Well, first of all, you might want to experiment a little and see if there’s something you might like that will enhance your pleasure. A lot of patients find that impact play and things like that actually help clear your mind so you’re able to focus on just the sensation.” 

You nod, not sure what to say. How do I experiment? Can you help me? 

“But another thing you can try is sexual mediation. It centers around the practice of mindfulness and it’s a focus on sensuality and the current state of your body. Do you have a partner who can help you with this?” 

Shaking your head, you think you might see a gleam in her eyes. 

“That’s okay. You first want to find a quiet place with no distractions. Your bedroom would be a great place. Dim the lights, maybe light a candle, whatever helps set the mood. Sit on the floor and get comfortable; you can either lie down or sit up—”

“Do I wear clothes?” you interrupt, feeling bad immediately. 

She just smiles gently. “You can wear something loose or nothing at all, whatever your preference is. You can play music if that will help you tune other things out."

There’s a visible difference in her demeanor now, almost like she’s coming alive. Her hands gesture animatedly and her pupils are blown out and looking wildly all over your body. 

“Close your eyes and try to remain aware of your surroundings. Pay attention to your body, your breath, and any sounds. As you inhale, pull the air into your abdomen and imagine the stress leaving your body as you exhale. If stray thoughts get in, just accept them and move on. Visualize your body—visualize your desire. I like to tell my patients to think of it as an orb inside you. It starts out small, in your vagina, and then it grows bigger and spreads throughout you. Feel it spread.” 

Your chest is rapidly falling and rising, a sheen of sweat beading on your forehead. There’s an ache inside you right now—your orb of desire is red-hot and throbbing. 

“Try to be aware of your own body and what you’re feeling. The goal is heightened awareness, which can lead to increased arousal. If you have a partner, once you’re done visualizing yourself, shift that focus to your partner and think about how they’re feeling. If not, you can think about someone you find attractive or just skip this step entirely.” 

It feels like she put that part in there just to taunt you. Like she knows you find her attractive. You can’t think about her though, that would be so wrong. How would you come in here again and look her in the eye, knowing you had fantasized about her?

“Sexual meditation should take about twenty minutes and then you move on to intercourse or masturbation. The hope is that clearing your mind beforehand will allow your body to feel more. There’s things you can do with a partner, but for now, why don’t you start with trying that?” 

Your mouth is suddenly very dry. “Yeah, okay. That sounds good. Oh—what if it doesn’t work?”

Agatha smirks, eyes traveling down your body and back up to your face. “Then come back and see me.” 

——

You’re almost hoping that this doesn’t work, just so you’d have the excuse to go back and see her. 

But then it would mean that you could enjoy sex again, so that would definitely be the bigger win here. 

The lights in your room are turned off with four lit candles, all smelling like something different, resting on your dresser. You decide to strip down to just your bra and your underwear and sit criss-cross on a pillow on the floor. The silence is too loud so you grab your phone and turn on ocean noises. You’ve always felt more relaxed at the beach. 

Settling onto the pillow and shifting to get comfortable, you close your eyes and try to remember all of Agatha’s instructions. You inhale deeply, feeling your lungs expand, and then push out the air and imagine your stress seeping out of your bones. 

At work, you had to fix what could have been a very bad mistake if someone hadn’t caught it in the nick of time. But there could still be consequences if your boss found out and—If stray thoughts get in, just accept them and move on.

Another deep breath. 

Smell the mix of citrus and vanilla cinnamon and lavender and pumpkin. 

The air conditioning has goosebumps peppering with goosebumps but it keeps your mind sharp. 

The orb of desire. 

You picture it, red and glowing, small as a seed at first. It’s settled deep in your cunt. The image of Agatha smiling at you flashes against your eyelids and the orb grows to the size of a grape. 

No, not her! 

Agatha’s hands flutter around the air while she tells you exactly what to do to make yourself feel good. 

Stop! She’s your therapist! 

The alarm from your mind shatters the focus you had and the orb is completely gone. You grunt as you struggle and try to bring it back. Agatha won’t know if you’re thinking about her—in fact, if the thoughts get you to an orgasm, she’d probably be happy for you. 

But it’s too late. The moment is gone, the now-odorous blend of scents makes your head hurt, and you’re feeling vaguely confused by what is right and wrong. 

You might want to see an actual therapist about your self-sabotaging tendencies. 

——

“The meditation didn’t work?” Agatha asks a week later after taking a long sip from her coffee mug when you go back to see her. She’s wearing a black sweater and gray pants, hair loose, and it’s making your stomach feel fuzzy. You’re not actually sure why you came back but now you still can’t come and you’re sexually frustrated. 

Is that an improvement? Some might say it is. At least you’re feeling something. You had given in a day after your failed attempt at meditating and touched yourself, letting yourself think about Agatha, but each time you got close to an orgasm, you just couldn’t. 

“It helped a little,” you tell her truthfully. “I got in tune with my body and desire like you said. It actually felt good when I moved onto masturbation. But…” 

You trail off so she can hopefully fill in the gaps without you having to say more. She nods knowingly. “I see. It is a lot harder to sexually meditate on your own—it doesn’t always work.” 

The air gets sucked out of your lungs and your heart skips a beat. What is she suggesting? 

Agatha gestures to the ground. “We can try it, if you’d like.” 

A sound tears itself out from your throat, somewhere between a strangled gasp and a choke. 

She smirks. “Of course, without the sex.” 

You nod like it should’ve been obvious, feeling your face flush. “How does it work?” 

“Well first, let’s get comfortable,” she says, putting her notepad down on the side table and standing up. She kicks off her sandals, hikes up her pants just a little, and sits down on the floor, crossing one leg over the other. 

She nods to the spot across from her and you scramble to assume the same position. Now that you’re closer to her, maybe three feet between you, you can see the lines and creases on her face. You think they only make her more attractive. Her blue eyes look more gray today and you try not to look down at her lips. 

“Close your eyes,” she says and you do, enveloping your vision in darkness. You can feel your muscles tense but you roll back your shoulders and take a deep breath. The stiffness lessens. “Good job, there you go.” 

Her murmuring makes you shiver and there’s a slight melodic chuckle. 

“Work on breathing and getting in touch with your surroundings and then go through your five senses and tell me what you’re aware of.”

In…out…in…out…you lose yourself and almost forget what she asked you to do until she moves slightly and reminds you that you’re not alone. 

“I see my orb of desire,” you whisper. She hums softly. “It’s in my lower stomach, red, but small. I hear you, your breathing, and the rattle of the air conditioning. I can smell the candles, vanilla and jasmine. It’s good, calming. I can taste the spearmint from the gum I had in the car on my way here. And I can feel my body.” 

“Good,” Agatha says. “Focus on the orb. Feel it growing with your desire. Think about sex—think about lips on yours, moving down to kiss your chest, your breasts, hands on your hips holding you in place.” 

Your breath comes out gravelly and you imagine Agatha doing all that to you. Her lips on yours, her hands on your hips. You squirm despite yourself and swear that she’s smirking. The orb burns brighter, pulsing in time with your clit. 

When was the last time you were this wet? 

Agatha’s voice drops deeper. “Feel your partner running their fingers through your folds, teasing you, giving you pleasure.” 

A small moan escapes your lips and you’re momentarily distracted by praying that she didn’t hear it. 

“Feel the tension in your core increasing. Feel yourself becoming wetter. Feel your desire expanding and encompassing your body, your mind, all of you.” 

There’s a slight rustling noise and you sense her presence even closer to you now. You think you might be sucking air through a straw with how hard it’s become to breathe. 

Smooth skin touches your hands and you almost jump. Agatha slides her palms over yours and the sparks run straight to your cunt. Your head is spinning but simultaneously is the clearest it’s ever been. 

She takes over your senses—you can hear only her words and the way her tone becomes lighter and breathier, you can see only her in your mind, you can smell the coffee she was drinking, and she’s touching you—completely and utterly overwhelming you until there’s only her. 

You just wish you could find out how she tastes. 

“Focus on me now,” Agatha says, strangely affected. “Think about my body and my feelings. Think about my orb, my desire, and how it might be growing.” 

There’s an ache inside you that won’t go away, an ache that’s filling you up and leaving you hungry for something you can’t have. Your cunt is clenching, trying to draw something in that isn’t there, and when you shift forward just the slightest, there’s a pressure on your sensitive clit that makes you gasp. 

“I want you to think about your partner finally giving you what you want,” she purrs and you can hear the smirk in her voice. “Think about that moment when your partner slips their fingers into you, that moment of relief when you get what you’ve been waiting for.” 

It’s like you can feel it through just the touch of her hands on yours. You can imagine Agatha’s fingers gently thrusting into you for the first time, curling and immediately knowing what to do. 

There’s a thrumming under your skin that’s only getting worse, a tightening in your stomach. You haven’t felt this way in so long you almost don’t recognize it. 

You peer through your eyelids just in time to catch her pink tongue darting out and licking her lips and a pang of heat blasts through you. 

Now you can’t stop imagining her tongue on you, delving into your folds, circling your clit. 

Can she see how much of a mess you are right now? Does she like it? The thought makes your breath stutter. 

“Picture your pleasure as a flowing river,” she says thickly, hotly. “Up until now, it’s been hitting a dam. It’s being blocked. But we’re going to break it.” 

Agatha’s fingers start moving against your palm, dragging them up so they’re curled before sliding them back down. It’s soothing, grounding, but also indicative of what she would be doing if she was inside your cunt right now. 

Is that why she’s doing it? 

She presses harder and you can almost feel the stroking movements in your pussy, like she’s fucking you and filling you and proving that there’s nothing wrong with you. Her knees brush against yours and you shiver again. You’ve never felt more alive. 

“Let yourself become one with pleasure. Let it overtake you, let it overwhelm you. Feel your partner’s lips on your skin, sucking on your nipples, feel your walls clench around their fingers, feel their thumb on your clit. It’s so good it makes your eyes water and you’re dripping and you’re about to come—let yourself come.”

For the first time in a year, the dam breaks. The tension snaps. It’s more intense than you remember an orgasm ever being and your mind goes white briefly. 

“Agatha,” you moan softly, jerking your hips forward to prolong your pleasure with some pressure on your clit, and then you realize what you just said. 

Your eyes shoot open, a hazy cloud still hanging over you, to find the color in her eyes almost completely swallowed by a hot darkness. Her cheeks are flushed slightly—you’d probably miss it if you weren’t sitting so close—and her tongue runs out across her lips again. 

“I’m so sorry,” you exclaim, clamping a hand over your mouth. 

She smirks and waves a hand, brushing it off. “I’m flattered, honey. What’s really important is that you had an orgasm. How do you feel?” 

The dopamine is still giving you a high that you don’t want to ever come down from. “Really good,” you answer honestly and she laughs. 

“Well, I’m very proud of the progress you’ve made in only two sessions.” She stands up and you follow. Agatha starts walking to the door and it sobers you up a little for her to be throwing you out so quickly after that. She sees your crestfallen look and winks. “It’s my lunch break. And I need to take care of a few things.” 

The suggestive tone is not lost on you and you feel another burst of heat. Would it be stupid of you to ask if you could stay? 

Yes, you decide. 

But you do ask, “So, is this it, then? I’m cured; I don’t have to come back?” 

Agatha shrugs with a twinkle in her eye. “Totally up to you. Although, I’d recommend at least a few more sessions. Just to make sure you don’t have any more problems. Just because you can orgasm by yourself again doesn’t mean it’ll just come naturally with other people.” 

“Are you going to help me with that, too?” you say before you lose the nerve. 

She just winks at you and your clit aches all the way to the receptionist’s desk. 

You book another session. 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

lips of an angel

pairing: married! leon x marriage counselor! reader

cw: infidelity, p in v, oral, over-usage of 'good girl', regret, leon is an asshole (like, he's really a dick), reader is also not a good person (so, hopefully it's ooc for u lol), not proofread enough

summary: leon is married to ashley (she deserves better) and he cheats on her with reader who is the marriage counselor

a/n: based on a reddit post lol. also, it's time for us to admit that lips of an angel is such a fucking good song and leon would listen to it. (imagining this is id! leon and that song came out around that time so actually it's perfect. anyway, bye)

wc: 2.7k

[edit] taglist

@rigorwhoring

@dilfprayers

@porcelainseashore

@dollita-fawn

@xoxoloveless

@admirxation

@pawrincss

@onlyasimp4-2dbitches

@pr3ttyd0llie

taglist | ko-fi | masterlist

It starts like many horror stories do: with a knock at the door. He's tall, dark, and handsome, standing in the doorframe. Except not that dark, not very tall at all, but incredibly handsome and you've come to find over the sessions you've spent together that his looks are your weakness. His weakness is you. And many other women. Including his wife, who usually attends these sessions, but tonight, he comes alone. Maybe it's the rain that's beating down on the windows - thought it should sound like a warning - that makes you feel sympathetic enough to let him in when you know you shouldn't.

You let him sit on your couch, but make him hang up his leather jacket on the coat rack so he doesn't ruin the furniture. So you can see his biceps better. And his forearms when he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt. The first two buttons are already undone, but that's how he always dresses. You know this because you spend too much time looking at him. What does his wife wear? Skirts? Dresses? Pantsuits? She could wear a goddamn clown costume to every session and you'd be none the wiser because you're staring at her husband like he's a piece of meat.

"Not that I'm unhappy to see you, but why are you here?" you ask him. "Your appointment isn't until Wednesday."

"I'm having marriage troubles. I thought you might be able to help."

It's in the job title: marriage counselor.

"Where's Ashley?" It's a loaded question, and the gun is pointed at your entire fucking career.

"She couldn't come. Plus, I don't think she'd like to know about these problems I'm having."

You take a deep breath, contemplating absolutely nothing because you've already made your choice. You made your choice months ago when you had your first appointment with the Kennedys.

“Remember when I said I had a history of cheating?”

“I do. Has this become a problem again?”

“Not exactly,” he says with a slight chuckle that you later find is ironic in nature. “But I’ve been having thoughts…”

“Are these thoughts sexual?”

“Very.”

“Have you tried taking care of it yourself?” You make a hand gesture to signal ‘if you know what I mean’ and pray he knows what you mean so you don’t have to say the words ‘jerk off’ explicitly.

“Yes, but it hasn’t worked.” He looks directly into your eyes when he says it.

"Are these thoughts about a specific person?"

"Yes." 

His answers, which are limited to only a few words at a time, make you feel like you're shaking up a magic 8 ball, and the blue goop reveals a die that has little to say beyond 'It is certain', 'My sources say no', and 'Try again later'. 

“Is there a way you could distance yourself from this person so you don’t have any potential ‘slip ups’?” you ask.

“Sure, but I’d have to stop counseling if I did.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Kennedy-”

“Leon.”

“Right. Leon, I’m not trying to be presumptuous, but are you insinuating that these thoughts are about me?”

“That they are.” His smile gives you a golden star-shaped sticker for guessing correctly.

You give him a scowl. "I'll set you up with a new therapist, then."

“Let me ask you something,” he says, leaning forward, staring right into your soul. “Are you attracted to me too?”

“I’m not comfortable answering-”

“That’s not a ‘no’. Is it?”

You try to wipe the look of shock arousal off your face.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to admit it. I remember you asking a lot of questions about my sex life, especially the parts that don’t involve my wife, and getting visibly flustered when I answered them.”

“Of course I asked questions like that. I’m a therapist. It’s what I do. I’m sorry if you-” 

You should ask him to leave, separate yourself before you explode in frustration. Getting defensive is not a healthy way to argue. You know this. You've told him this.

“If I remember correctly you asked me about how I touch myself, when I do it, if I watch anything.” He doesn't wait for a response from you, but it wouldn't have come anyway. “And, the whole time you were sitting there chewing on your pen, pretending not to imagine it. And then writing it down in a hurry, making sure you got down every little detail.” He taps on your pad of paper.

“Can I see this for a moment?” He snags it from the table beside you and flips through the pages. Without thinking, you leap forward and try to snatch it from him, falling into his lap.

The embarrassing part is when he lifts you off of him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“It’s highly confidential!”

“Mr and Mrs. Kennedy,” he begins to read imitating your voice.

“Enough.” You use your sternest voice with him - which is far from stern.

“It says right here that Mr. Kennedy is 'a total dick’ but ‘totally fuckable’.”

“It does not!”

“You’re right. It doesn’t. But you were thinking it. Weren’t you?” He looks up with a smile on his face that’s both charming and cruel.

"I'm not playing whatever game you're trying to play with me right now, Leon."

It's the devil's edition of 20 questions, it seems.

He flips the pad closed, and says, “I’ll leave right now if you answer one question truthfully.”

“Fine," you huff, snatching the pad of paper and stashing it out of his reach.

“Did you go home and touch yourself while thinking about me?”

You shake your head vehemently. "No. Absolutely not."

“You couldn’t even make it home, huh? You did it right here, didn’t you?”

You don't have to answer - the look on your face gives it away.

“Was it on the couch? Right where I was sitting? Where I'm sitting right now."

“Fine. You win, you got it right. Are you happy now?” You concede because you want to end this conversation as quickly as possible, so you can go hide your face and die. 

You want him to fuck you within an inch of your life and then you'll die happily. La petite mort? That's what they call it, right? You want that.

Leon just hums in response, giving you no insight into his thoughts. Though it doesn't take a therapist to guess that he's mentally fucking you. To your surprise, he slaps his hands on his thighs and stands up.

When he gets to the door, you say, “Wait-”

“What?” He asks, nonchalant to such a degree that one might believe the events of the previous few minutes never transpired at all.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving. Like I said I would.”

“You’re just gonna leave? Do you get off on embarrassing people? Is that it?”

“No. I get off to you, and you know that." He's oddly defensive despite having the upper hand. "I also know that a large part of you despises me, but it’s because there’s a part of you that wants to fuck me.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He shrugs. “You’re the therapist, not me.”

“I’m telling your wife.”

“You’re going to tattle on me?" He laughs. “That wouldn’t be very HIPAA-compliant of you, would it?”

“Why are you doing this?" It feels like a nightmare that you can't escape where a terrifying shadowy figure is chasing you while you're screaming out for help and no one's listening. Except, this is more horrific due to the fact that you like it. Your thoughts about the man in front of you are downright depraved. You are both the monster, mirrors of each other. 

"I thought you wanted to fix your marriage," you say.

“My wife wants to fix our marriage. You and I both know it’s doomed. But you’re not allowed to say that, are you?”

You shouldn't be saying half the things you are right now, but it's too late to turn back now. You are the sunk cost. And the ship that was the concept of 'fixing Leon's marriage' has already sailed.

“You want the truth? I’ve known since the moment you opened your mouth that your marriage was done.”

“Then why did you keep having sessions? Was it for the money?” He pauses. “I doubt it. You’re a good therapist. You could get other clients. There was another reason. And, we both know what that reason is, but I won’t make you say it. I’m not that mean.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And that’s what you like most about me.”

“It is not.”

“Then what is it?”

“Fuck you!”

“Do you want to? I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Convince me.”

“Haven’t I already?”

“No.”

“Then why are you asking me to convince you instead of telling me to fuck off? You just want me to come up with a reason that doesn’t make you feel bad about doing it.”

“And there isn’t one.”

“No, there isn’t," he says with a bit of pity, knowing he's dragging you down into the second circle of Hell with him.

“You have to swear to tell your wife.”

“Is that a yes?”

He did not swear to tell his wife, but Leon is a cheater and a liar already. If he swore to tell his wife, you'd only be an idiot to believe him. 

“Lock the door.”

He turns around and flicks the lock. “Done.”

You stand up and his mouth is on yours. He’s the best kisser. Silver-tongued, you should've known it. You can fucking taste it too. Metallic. No, that's blood. You bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

You’re the one who starts undressing him first but he doesn’t make fun of you. He helps you out of your top instead.

“Goddamn you have perfect tits. It’s a shame you always keep ‘em hidden.”

“It’s a professional environment.”

“Yeah, it’s so professional that you fuck your clients in it.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

"Don't worry. You’re not the first therapist I’ve fucked. I’ll lead.” Leon lays you down on the couch  - roughly, but cradling your head so you don’t knock it on anything. 

You gasp. "Leon, the couch is damp from your wet clothes," you whine.

"I promise it'll be soaked by the time I leave."

Before you can open your mouth, he’s kissing down your chest, making his way to your panties. His tongue is good at more than just talking. He has you unraveling within minutes, moaning obscenely.

“As much as love your pretty moans, baby, we’ve gotta be quiet. Don’t want you to get fired.”

“I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t. You’re a good therapist, and a good girl.”

“You think I’m a good girl?”

“So good. And you taste amazing.” He places a kiss on your clit and you nearly cry, having forgotten the feeling of his tongue in the mere seconds you spent without it. “I want you to come in my mouth.” He sucks on your clit until you do.

Leon's lips are dark and puffy when they meet yours - the ones on your face. He asks, “How did you imagine us doing it?”.

“Mostly me on top of you.”

“It’s a good idea, isn’t it?” he says, placing featherlight kisses from your jaw down your neck.

You shake your head. “None of this is.”

“I know. You've got morals. You’re a good girl.” He pauses before whispering into the shell of your ear, “That’s why you deserve to have me however you want me.”

His right hand is busy holding you steady so he fingers you with his left. You watch as his wedding band slips in and out of your pussy along with his middle finger, giving a double fuck you to his wife with each movement.

He seems fascinated by the squelching sounds, no longer focused on getting his dick inside you. The heavy rain outside covers up some of the noise but not enough to save you the embarrassment.

"Jesus. Just fuck me already." You try desperately to avoid sounding desperate, praying he takes your irritation at face value.

But you're too obvious, you wear your sick, sick heart on your sleeve. 

"You want my dick that bad and you haven't even seen it yet."

"I hope it's as big as your ego."

"No you don't. That'd be painful, medically concerning probably."

You want to laugh because he manages to be funny and charming as hell despite being an absolute dick, but that fact makes you hate him more. And the blood that courses through you has nowhere to go but south.

All the while, his fingers refuse to leave your aching center. "Leon," you whine, pushing his hand away, "you're gonna make me cum again."

"I know," he purrs. "I wanna make up for all the months you've spent here by yourself, with your fingers inside you instead of mine."

"I was pretending they were yours." There's no point in saving the confession anymore.

"I'm sure you were, but I've got somethin' better for you, baby."

And, abruptly, he removes his fingers. You watch him unbuckle his belt, and despite this being your fantasy, you look at him like he's betrayed you.

"What?" he says, coyly, "I thought you wanted this."

"I do, but I was about to cum, and you just took your fingers away. You're such an asshole!" You pout like a bratty child.

"Yeah, I know I am," he says - his words are muffled by the square packet he tears with his teeth. He slides on the rubber barrier before he picks you up and sits you down on his cock, disregarding the obscene noises you make as he shoves himself inside you all at once.

You're wet but there's a stretch. His dick is big, maybe not as big as his ego, but bigger than any you've taken before. This is how he gets away with it, you think.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groans. His hands have an iron grip on your hips. "You've gotta learn to loosen up and relax. You're too high strung. This is probably good for you."

It's not, you'll find when the orgasm wears off, but right now it feels really fucking good.

His thumb circles your clit while you bounce up and down, working well in tandem. Ironic, as you've made so little progress in your weekly sessions. As expected, the dual stimulation makes you slick with arousal, opening you up for him.

His voice sounds distant, droned out by your own moans which get even louder as his words get filthier. "Bet all your advice didn't work 'cause your brain was all fuzzy thinking about what my cock would feel like inside you. Or maybe you did it on purpose 'cause you wanted me all to yourself."

"No… n-no-" you say, voice trembling just as your thighs do.

"S'okay, baby. Girls with messy pussies like you can't help it. Just need to get some dick in you and then you can go back to being a good girl."

Can you? Maybe you can a 'good girl' in the bedroom, but a morally-upstanding woman? Even in your own eyes, he's corrupted you.

Still, you call out for him, "Leon," you cry, the singular syllable drawn out. You are lucky that the thunder from the storm is louder than your voice could ever be.

"I know," he says, "I'm close too."

The way your walls squeeze him when you cum drags his own orgasm from him. 

You are oddly dissatisfied at the fact that he spills into the condom, not into you. It feels so impersonal. Because it is. It doesn't escape you that he didn't say your name - not even a pet name - just a simple 'fuck' when he came.

You point him in the direction of the trashcan where he can throw away the physical evidence of the mess you've made.

His pants are back on in a second while you remain naked on the couch.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," he says. "Ashley's making dinner. Don't wanna keep her waiting."

"You're gonna go home to her?" you say, more disappointed than surprised.

"Yeah. What did you think I was going to do?"

Truly, you weren't thinking. If you were, you would not have had sex with Leon. 

"I'm surprised you're not happy. I'm gonna go spend some quality time with my wife. That was your advice - wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but-"

"But what? You're our marriage counselor. I'm just trying to fix my marriage."

"You're doing an awful job."

"I know," he says, with his hand on the doorknob. "See you on Wednesday."

[sludgewolf]

Pls write something for Powerplex when you can. I literally don't even care what just something I am starving. If you need a suggestion maybe general relationship hcs? But again I will take ANYTHING lol please and thank you 🙏

Sorry for the long wait, couldn't organize my thoughts on this one (and also wanted to save some things for a one shot i've been planning for him)

Masterlist Invincible Masterlist Disclaimer: do not copy, repost, take or feed to AI or NFTs anything I post

Don't trust me - Powerplex x Reader

Scott was hesitant on even starting anything w you, too scared of you getting tangled w the mess that he made of his life

but once you're in a relationship you're in no matter how much he tries to reassure you that he'll understand if you want to walk out, you know how devastated it'll make him

besides, you already got a taste there's no way you're letting him get away

Much like a skittish stray it takes some time for Scott to come out of his shell

once he does you first notice your tasks suspiciously already done or your food already plated waiting you in the microwave

and little by little you also start noticing him lingering around more often, always in the same room but just out of reach

Very clingy and overprotective, to the point of pouting when you go out by yourself, but at the same time he can't trust himself with your safety

especially since he thinks of himself as the biggest threat to you

despite that he can't will himself to not follow you around with big puppy eyes whenever he wants your attention

Scott is really scared of his emotions getting the better of him causing his powers to flare up

that's why he's always nearby but never close enough

He leans more towards book smarts than people smarts so communication is a must in this relationship

no vague gestures either, if you want something you must talk it out with him to prevent any misunderstandings

after some extensive talks with him and reassurance, that he doesn't need to keep you at arms length, that you trust him

he loosens up a little, with some more reassurance and a lot of patience Scott starts to allow you to touch him

to say he's addicted would be an understatement but you try to not say it in fear of him retreating back into himself

Though when he's sleepy Scott seems to calm down, all his worries, all those thoughts of being a threat to you are drowned out by his drowsiness

leaning more into your touch, letting himself lay by your side playing with your fingers

in some really rare days he'll just crash next to you, his arm thrown over your waist and his face shoved into your hair

you almost selfishly want him to always be like this, to always be free of worry and self hatred

it might be something that's better discussed with his therapist though

Just because his pain tolerance is dulled due to his powers it doesn't mean he doesn't feel it

you frequently massage his shoulders to try to help alleviate a bit of it, even getting him some heating pads to help his muscles relax

After all that happened Scott might've become a known criminal to the world, so he's not all that keen on crowds or public dates

instead he prefers more casual dates at home, his favorite being cooking for you and watching a movie until you fall asleep at the couch

it helps him feel normal again, you help him feel normal again

Once you finally get to the point where he feels ok with casual touches again he practically melts into you

always chasing after you for one more hug, asking for cuddles every night, just one more kiss

Speaking of kissing, it's way better that you've ever thought

you've read of electic kisses that gives the characters goosebumps, well that is real with Scott

when you kiss you can feel his power flowing through you and hear sparks coming out of him

nothing dangerous ofc but it scared the shit out of Scott the first time it happened

but now that he know it's safe he can't get enough of you

he made himself so touch starved these past months, he's so pathetic you couldn't not fuck him

[fandomlurker333]

A lot of people are screaming throuple and just writing the porn (which I get! It’s fun!). But reading them come is not enough for me. lol Toxicity is hot until it’s just damaging and sad for everyone. I want real happiness for these three weirdos.

The end of the film was meant to be the very beginning of something. Just the spark of an idea of them coming back to one another. But the real work starts after. 

And I think it would probably be a step-by-step thing. 

I can see Patrick and Art working to draw closer, with that strong foundation of their childhoods to build off of. Obviously having to resolve the hurt that so much time and distance caused them, and both being willing to forgive. But it’s clear at the end of the film that the door is open for that. They grew up together. There’s a real root of knowing that I think could carry them through the toughest parts early on. Their relationship evolving feels possible.

And Tashi and Art’s marriage would find some breathing room and maybe even some renewed delight for having Patrick present and loving on them both. Kinda seeing each other again through his eyes type thing. Remembering they’re more than who they have been to each other for over a decade (both operating in one mode to survive, never quite enough for each other -- not totally fulfilled and not appreciated in their fullness).

I don’t think Patrick and Tashi would be having sex at this point, but I can see like….tennis dates where they bicker. Just them all learning how to be in each other’s space for extended periods of time and enjoy it.

And maybe Art wouldn’t resent Tashi so much for not being able to give him everything (so much has been taken from her — she just doesn’t have all that much left. She’s been doing her best.) and maybe Tashi would feel more at peace seeing them play each other and knowing Art is really loving tennis, not just playing for her. Connecting with them both in that space and finding joy in tennis again, so it’s not just routine and pain and loss for her.

With that healing happening concurrently (with therapists as support, of course), I think they’d get far. And then once those relationships are more secure, once Art and Tashi learn how they relate to each other when he isn’t winning for her (which would be something new. They don’t know what that looks like yet!) then Patrick and Tashi, having learned way more about themselves in relationship and how to communicate, might start working on their side of the triangle lol. 

I could see them all exploring and working out the intimacy over time — not just sex, but intimacy -- what do they each need and how do they need it? And kink too, the various ways they each want/need to give or receive so they all feel truly satisfied.

And of course they’ll be partners co-parenting. All of them.

I can see Tashi finally grieving her injury, the life she lost, and rediscovering her love of tennis, not to win, but for the joy of being on the court. Her sobs the first time she plays again and it’s not competitively, just a little volley, but it’s like she’s finally alive again. Reminding herself she’s a leader in tennis the space still, that she can build success in that world even without Art’s career, but maybe it looks different. I see a healed Tashi learning to enjoy teaching kids. Taking on more protege. And letting Art and Patrick come help at her tennis camps. 

Art retiring like he said he wanted, running the foundation as Tashi steps back. Realizing that he’s actually pretty good at this business thing and going back to school for a Master’s in nonprofit leadership. Meeting new people. Making friends (that aren’t Patrick). Getting invited to a pottery class and seeing he loves to work with his hands. Playing tennis with Patrick on the weekends.

And my heart for stay-at-home dad Patrick. Who always forgets to change over the laundry and leaves his keys everywhere and puts the babies' shoes on the wrong feet. But my god he loves those kids so goddamn much. Patrick learning to cook for the family and getting really good at it like he does anything he hyper-focuses on. Patrick finally having a home with the two people he loves most and figuring out how to create some routine and stability for himself within that container.

The love in that home. Ugh. I think it’s possible! I think they can do it! It just takes work. 

[cowboyjen68]

Hi, I'm gonna try and keep this relatively simple as in not into detail about why I am the way I am (basically I have anxiety around women despite being a woman myself; my mom used to be overly critical, unpredictable moods and take her stress out on me, and when I told her I'm bi she just kind of rolled her eyes and dismissed me lol (she's better about so many things now but the damage is done))(+ I got bullied by girls and abused by my friends growing up, a lot)

I'm recently starting to come more out of my shell and understand that my attraction to women isn't going to go anywhere, like I'm still going to have crushes on them and want to be with them. That's just the reality for me. Nothing wrong with that.

But I feel like I'm still chained down by my past and the sort of anxiety that it brings! I see it affecting my friendships with women, too, I notice: once the friendship starts to deepen, I feel a sort of threshold rising. It starts feeling more like I need to 'perform' better and I doubt myself, so I pull away. Feel like a fraud.

I'm understanding that I've developed this fear of not being good enough to be in women's general vicinity. It's not real, it's all in my head, I know it, but... I guess in my heart of hearts I just don't believe a woman could really really love me, or trust me, or take me seriously as a person and most of all, still be attracted to me like I am to her—I have nothing I can offer to any woman out there, is the belief I'm trying to tackle. Because, it must not be true, right?

The more practical level this issue presents at is social situations and flirting. I'm a big joker and like to give people laughs and let them feel appreciated/welcome, but if there're women I'm attracted to I just completely trip all over my own legs in a way that leaves me more embarrassed than anything. My flirting is (or, it feels) really awkward, and I'm constantly second-guessing whether she is just being nice, or responding actually. I feel like a total creep at times and worry about coming across creepy somehow, despite doing nothing out of the ordinary.

I'm also feeling quite inferior, because I'm in my late 20's and I should have at least this part of my shit together, but I don't. Yet, I can't just sit around isolated and loveless until I'm 'together' enough to 'impress her' or whatever else nonsense my weird complexes/perfectionisms try to tell me! I have to go out and try to make connections, go through trial/error and be a proper friend above all, I think.

I don't expect any comprehensive therapist-tier mindhacks on how to tackle any (or fuck forbid all) of this. What I'm kind of looking for perhaps, is reassurance or a kind word? Not that I want anyone to be going through these kind of things, though, what scares me more is the thought of being alone in this, especially that of being doomed into being stuck forever alone like this. Like, I feel so socially stunted. I know what I'm supposed to work on, but it all just feels like a massive hurdle that can't be fixed with a couple tips on flirting.

... though, flirting tips would also be welcome if you know what I'm saying. Or maybe advice on how to loosen up, keep calm and get over the assumption that everyone is straight and nobody's gonna be interested ever (aka. start seeing and really receiving the signs someone might be interested). Maybe a few words to help with how intimidating it is to try and make an entry to bi/lesbian spaces and make friends there, after so many freaking years up Aslan's? Gotta start somewhere with it.

I live in a relatively safe for LGBT+ country by the way, so I've got that going for me so far, as in, I can afford everyday normal behaviour and (up to a point) openness that would be immensely risky in a lot of places 'round the globe. It's a definite advantage.

Anyway, love you blogging about your life here, it's very inspiring to see how far you've gotten along with building a life that's yours <3 it gives me hope, too! And yeah I guess I'm in awe. Also how kind of you to receive anons and respond thoughtfully to all these young folks in need of advice and support! You're so beautiful for that. A real one, a role model if there ever was one.

Wishing you and everyone frequenting this blog all the best!

(hopefully tumblr doesn't mess up and somehow bungle the anonymity)(if this is too much it's okay to just delete)(hopefully this also doesn't send multiple times, gosh I'm nervous)

Again I come with my hat in hand to apologize for this blog being neglected.

I have good news. With or without trauma of the sort you have endured many woman are raised to mistrust other women and see them as either better with higher standards than we could ever achieve or just not to be trusted because they are spiteful, back stabbing or judgmental. It is so odd but women are told be be friends with other women because men want to have their man friends but at the same time we are not so subtly taught that women make terrible friends.

SO in feeling like you are not good enough or don't belong you are in fact just like many of the other women around you who feel the exact same way.

I too am one who loves to make women laugh or feel good and sometimes when they do, just like a kid who realizes they did something right, I go over board and am bolstered to keep on making jokes and trying to continue the laughter, even when it gets to the awkward stage. The want to impress women can encourage me to take it too far.

The best flirting it to be kind and complimentary while maintaining eye contact with a small smile. Sincerity and genuineness can be seen and felt by most women. So if you find someone worth flirting with, compliment her on something she put effort into (clothes, hair cut, make up, jewelry etc) and mean it. Then stop talking LOL. I tend to keep going. Let her respond and answer simply. You're welcome to her thank you or when she says "really? it is not big deal" say "well i noticed and thought you should know someone noticed". Simple and authentic. If you don't mean it, don't say it.

The key is sort of less is more but not in a "hard to get" kind of way but in a be sincere in what you say and genuinely listen to her reaction so You can respond appropriately kind of way.

Confidence and timing comes with practice.

[warabidakihime]

★ characters: levi ackerman x reader | modern au

★ plot summary: levi helps you get through an episode

★ content warnings : implied su!cidal ideations, talks about mental illness (panic attacks, anxiety, and depression).

★ a/n: just a lil something i wrote out of sheer indulgence cause i am going through it ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა . so i guess you could say this is true to life and the only difference is, i don't have a levi by myself doing all these for me LOL. BUT YEAH, i hope you like this one and i hope it could help other people who might be going through the same thing.

sending everybody hugs!

-

Title: Until When Do I Need to Run?

"What if I'm too tired by the time I reach the 'pinnacle' of my life?"

Your voice sounded soft and vulnerable as you let those words slip through your lips.

Normally, you wouldn't let these kinds of thoughts escape the confines of your mind, but today, your heart was desperately screaming for any semblance of salvation.

Anything that could shed light on your ever-gloomy world.

From the dining table where your boyfriend sat, enjoying his freshly brewed jasmine tea after dinner, Levi raised an eyebrow in your direction. "What?"

You were at the sink, washing the dishes, as it was your turn this week. You chuckled humorlessly as you rinsed a plate rather mindlessly. "It's nothing. I was just thinking out loud."

"And thinking ridiculous things too," Levi said, his voice louder than usual. It didn't occur to you that he had moved until you were spun around, facing him. He was already behind you while you were racking your brains for a response.

"What's wrong with you? Did something happen?" His frown was deep, his gray eyes piercing. Despite being shorter, his presence loomed over you.

Reaching for the kitchen towel to dry your hands, you stayed mute for a few minutes in an attempt to gather your thoughts.

"Work has just been... rough lately, and the stress is getting to me. But today was especially hard," you started. You were speaking slowly, trying to articulate your words as best as you could.

It was something your therapist had taught you years ago. Because of the things you went through growing up and the trauma you'd accumulated, you'd unfortunately lost your ability to speak coherently at times, almost to the point of being considered a person with a disability.

Having such a handicap was frustrating and humiliating, to say the least. It angered you when you couldn't get the right words out or when your mind went blank mid-sentence, rendering you temporarily mute.

Thankfully, you had Levi. He'd been your boyfriend for eight years, and since you got together, life wasn't as draining as it once was. You couldn't be more grateful to him. The two of you had met while you were on a coffee run at work. He was behind you in line, and when your card was unfortunately declined and you didn't have cash on you, you almost had an anxiety attack.

In his own way of displaying kindness, Levi scoffed from behind you and handed the cashier his card to pay for both your orders.

"If you don't want to go through something like that again, make sure you have cash on you, dumbass."

And the rest was history.

You went quiet again, and while Levi waited patiently, he took your hand, gave it a loving squeeze, and led you to the living room so that you could sit and talk comfortably.

Once you were settled, you took a deep breath, which sounded shaky as it escaped your lips. Your emotions were clearly piling up inside, and it was just a matter of when they would burst.

"Steady your breathing first, Y/N," Levi said as he rubbed your back gently, doing his best to comfort you while you grounded yourself. "Take your time."

Smiling sheepishly at him, you did as told, and then finally, you continued to confide in him.

"Nothing major happened, but work has been really hectic recently due to the amount of things we need to do, and it doesn't help that my team is severely understaffed. So, I guess the fatigue and stress have been piling up, and it's getting to me."

Levi noticed the tension in your shoulders and the way your hands were trembling slightly. He reached out and gently massaged your temples, his touch soothing.

"Any word on that incompetent manager of yours? They're looking for a replacement, right?" Levi asked, his voice tinged with annoyance. He knew the lore of what was happening at your workplace, and to say that he was pissed was an understatement.

Not only were you neglected by your immediate supervisor, but you also had to catch up and do his workload while still getting paid less than him. The whole thing was a mess, and to be completely honest, Levi was on edge, worried for your well-being. It sucked that his worst fears were manifesting.

"They're doing the best they can, so I'm just waiting patiently on that."

Levi let out a 'tsk' and rolled his eyes, clearly more annoyed for you. The gesture caused you to giggle a little.

"And to sum it all up, the whole thing kind of shoved me into another episode, and I started to overthink things again." You said with a pout, then continued, "I started to think of negative things again, like the fact I literally have to work like a horse just so I can survive for another two weeks. From that, I started to get dizzy because it dawned on me that it would literally take me years to succeed. And then I thought, what if by the time I reach the most successful point of my life, I'm too tired to celebrate or to even continue living because that's what I've been striving to achieve for so long, and that's where I've been pouring all my energy—"

"Okay, stop. Stop right there," Levi interrupted, his voice firm. He let out a frustrated sigh and pulled you closer, taking your hands in his. "You're spiraling, Y/N. You're making a mountain out of a molehill. We're going to tackle this together, one step at a time. Right now, you need to breathe and relax."

His gray eyes held a stern yet caring expression. "Focus on the now, Y/N. We deal with problems as they come. I'm here. I'll be your anchor, but you have to let go of the rope a little."

You looked into his eyes, feeling the weight of his words. Levi had always been your rock—the one who grounded you when your mind spiraled. You knew he was right, and his presence always brought you back to reality.

As you sat there, hand in hand, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

"Thank you, Levi," you whispered, leaning in to rest your head on his shoulder.

Levi noticed the shift in your demeanor. He squeezed your hand reassuringly, his other hand coming up to stroke your hair gently.

"You know, Y/N," he started softly, his voice a stark contrast to his earlier firmness. "You're incredibly strong. You've faced challenges I couldn't imagine, and you’ve come out stronger for it. But even the strongest people need to recharge."

He paused, giving you a moment to absorb his words. "It's okay to not be okay sometimes. It's okay to feel overwhelmed. What matters is how you deal with it. And right now, you're dealing with it by talking to me instead of keeping all that to yourself, and you've also been really consistent with it, which is a huge step. Good job."

Levi squeezed your hand gently again. "We'll figure this out together. Maybe we can start by setting some boundaries at work. Or maybe we can find some ways to de-stress outside of work. We can try new hobbies, or just spend more quality time together."

You felt a lump form in your throat as you listened to Levi's words. Just him being there for you brought so much warmth; it's as if he's hugging you from within.

At that moment, you realized how lucky you were to have him in your life.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. His words, spoken with such gentle sincerity, had a profound effect on you. It felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You realized how much you had been bottling up and how much you had been neglecting your own well-being.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Thank you for always being here for me. I don't know what I would do without you."

Levi smiled softly, reaching up to brush away a stray tear that had escaped your eye. "You don't have to figure it out alone, Y/N. And never, ever hesitate to reach out to me. I am the last person that would push you away."

A comfortable silence settled between you as you both took a moment to appreciate the connection. The soft glow of the living room lamp casts a warm ambiance, creating an intimate atmosphere.

"I know I've been a bit of a downer lately," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "I hate that I let this get to me. I hate that I'm becoming this person who's always stressed and overwhelmed."

Levi squeezed your hand tighter.

"You're not this person, Y/N. You're going through a tough time, and that's okay."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. It was comforting to know that you had someone who understood and supported you unconditionally.

The conversation continued, flowing naturally as you shared your fears and worries with Levi. He listened patiently, offering words of encouragement and practical advice. You felt a sense of peace as you opened up to him, something you hadn't done in a long time.

Hours seemed to fly by as you talked. The initial darkness outside had given way to the soft hues of dawn. Levi's grip on your hand never loosened, his presence a constant source of comfort.

Eventually, the weight of exhaustion began to creep in. You yawned, your eyes heavy with sleep. Levi noticed and smiled gently.

"It's late, Y/N," he said softly. "Let's head to bed."

You nodded, your head leaning against his shoulder. "Mkay. Thank you, Levi."

Levi kissed the top of your head. "You're welcome. We'll talk more about this tomorrow if you want, alright?" 

You nodded, a sheepish smile on your face. "Okay."

He stood up and stretched, a yawn escaping his lips. "I'll get us some water."

You watched as Levi moved toward the kitchen, feeling exponentially better, all thanks to him. When he returned with two glasses of water, he handed you one and sat back down beside you.

"Drink up," he said, his voice soft but firm.

You took a sip, feeling the cool liquid soothe your throat. After finishing the water, you placed the glass on the coffee table and turned to Levi.

"Thank you, Levi, for everything," you said, your voice full of sincerity.

He gave you a small smile, his eyes reflecting his affection for you. "Always, Y/N."

Setting his glass aside, Levi suddenly cupped your face with his hands, his touch gentle yet commanding. He leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was more passionate and eager than usual. His kiss conveyed all the love, support, and reassurance he wanted to give you, grounding you in the moment.

You responded in kind, your arms wrapping around his neck as you melted into the kiss. The intensity of the moment made your worries fade away, replaced by the warmth and love radiating from Levi. He pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, his hands moving to your waist, holding you securely.

When you finally pulled away for air, you rested your forehead against his, your breaths mingling. Levi's eyes were soft but intense, filled with a promise of unwavering support.

"You're not alone, Y/N," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. "I love you, and I'll always be here for you."

Tears of gratitude filled your eyes as you looked at him. "I love you too, Levi."

With that, he took your hand and led you to the bedroom. You both settled into bed, the weight of the day's worries feeling lighter. As you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt a sense of peace and security that only Levi could provide.

"Goodnight, Y/N," Levi murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

"Goodnight, Levi," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

The room fell into a serene silence, only your steady breathing filling the space. Levi’s arms around you felt like a shield against the world’s troubles, and the steady beat of his heart was a comforting rhythm that lulled you into relaxation.

As sleep began to pull you under, you felt a tender kiss pressed to your forehead while Levi’s fingers lightly traced soothing patterns on your back—his way of reminding you that he was always there, ready to lift the burdens you carried.

[girlyassumes]

Revising a past event

As someone who revised something from the past (read the full success story here), I want to give some tips on how to do that if you’re not sure how or are struggling to do it. I’m also working on another revision, so I’m right here with you.

What is revision?

In case you don’t know what exactly revision in LOA is, it’s basically rewriting something from your past and entering a parallel reality where that past event didn’t happen. You might be thinking, “wow, that’s insane. You’re crazy.” BUT, to be fair, I had no idea it was possible until I tried it myself and successfully did it. And, you do a quick Google search, quantum leaping is a very real, scientific thing.

Also, just as a disclaimer, I’m no expert, coach, or therapist. This is me going off of my own personal experience and what ended up working for me, and what’s helping me right now. I know this can be harder with bigger, more traumatic past events - I’m not downplaying traumatic past experiences and saying revision is a cake walk for everyone. But, it is possible to do or at least work towards from my own understanding.

Tips

Gaslighting yourself - I know this sounds wrong and terrible, but hear me out lol. When I say gaslight yourself, I mean that every time a memory of what you’re revising pops into your head, you tell yourself, “that didn’t happen.” You can even add, “[this] is what happened.” Also, don’t be harsh towards yourself about it, especially if it’s something big/traumatic you’ve been coping with.

Visualizing a different version - Try to envision a different version of yourself who didn’t go through that experience or imagine a friend saying, “I don’t remember that happening. What are you talking about?” Using the power of your imagination is a huge part of what LOA is all about.

Writing a story - scripting is a technique commonly used to help manifest. In revising, it can definitely be helpful when you’re replacing a past memory with something else. You’re quite literally rewriting it.

Practicing it on small things first - I strongly recommend this because this is what I did first before revising a bigger past event (fixing a craft project vs ditching the memory of a past relationship). I was working on weaving a basket since that’s something I enjoy, but I noticed my stitch work was looking really uneven. I was already far along in my project, so I had no desire to go back and unwind my yarn. Instead, I told myself that it has looked even the whole time and kept going. Without even feeling the shift, about an hour later, I looked at it again and the stitch work looked so much neater. If you want another story and detailed explanation, watch Danielle Desautelle’s video on this (you might see my comment with this same story I just talked about lol).

Avoiding or pushing away conversations about what happened - this can be hard at times if other people know about this past event and it comes up in conversation. It unfortunately can happen (it has for me recently). But, try to steer away from talking about it, if possible (unless you absolutely need to). This way, it starts to push the memory out of the 3D realm.

Reassuring yourself - if this process feels hard to do, obviously stop or let up on it, but you can also reassure yourself that it’ll feel better once it’s over. I’m telling you, my brain has a big tendency to feel fuzzy when thinking about the past event I revised and I stopped feeling the urge to ever bring it up again. It’s such an odd yet relieving feeling to have it pretty much chucked out of your memory.

How does it feel after it happens?

Like I just mentioned in my last point, your brain may get this fuzzy feeling if you try to remember what happened. Or, certain portions of the event - or the entire thing - are completely forgotten about altogether. You might also feel a sense of discomfort and/or relief from that change happening. When I felt that odd sensation of discomfort and relief simultaneously is also when it occurred to me that a shift had happened.

You also might see changes in your 3D reality, not just your own emotions and mentality, depending on what you revised and if there was something else put in to replace the situation. Like I mentioned in both my stories, there were physical changes like my stitch work improving and my friend texting me less, including going radio silent on certain days.

Keep in mind, when you manifest, there are many, many things you might be revising without even realizing or thinking about it. When people say, “circumstances don’t matter” in relation to manifesting, you’re pretty much erasing (or diluting) what happened to get you to a certain situation or what’s happening currently in that situation. It happens more frequently than you think.

[samsayswhatever]

Another thing about the scene of Loch trying to show his dad the tsunami videos. Note his parents are sitting in their chairs and Loch is at the center coffee table, sitting on the floor. They are literally positioned above him.

Victoria won't even fucking look at him when she tells him to put his video away. She barely looks at him when she tells him to go to posture therapy. I don't know I think Tim is probably not a supportive father but Victoria really gives me "is embarrassed by her autistic child" vibes.

She's all about image. Who is she being seen with, are they decent? Everyone at the club! Piper's choices are going to reflect badly on her. How many times has Loch been sequestered away when the Ratliff's had guests over, because "these are my girlfriends from the club" or "these are my business partners" and Loch is a little too inquisitive, a little too insensitive with some of his questions, a little too loud or a little too withdrawn it really depends on the day, a little too weird, a little too eager to talk to total strangers about his special interests.

Better just stick him in a room with an iPad or something. And to plunge the knife in deeper, when Saxon and Piper lived at home, how often was it only Loch being hidden away for being "embarrassing"? And how often did Tim and Victoria say "Oh you're just so young we're going to have guests past your bedtime" when they really meant "we don't want our friends and associates to see you and think we're bad parents because only bad parents would let their child turn out like you"?

Wow, yeah, his parents really do give "embarrassed by their autistic kid" vibes. And it's even worse because it's not just that they are embarrassed to do impolite things. Victoria snubs Kate, and Tim is rude to Rick. They don't give a fuck about doing certain things that aren't particularly socially acceptable. It definitely matters WHO see's it, and how it reflects back on them. I don't think Victoria would act the way she did to Kate to people from "the club" or Tim would be that rude to someone he worked with. They are both so self centered in that way.

And I can totally imagine his parents hiding him away from their polite society friends and co-workers. Saxon seems to be fairly involved with those kinds of people, based on how he works with his dad. And Piper might feel even more constrained by those rich people rules because she may have been forced to be nice to people when they came over. But Lochlan doesn't seem very experienced with talking to strangers. He talked to his posture therapist, and to Chloe on the boat, but that's basically it (besides his family.)

And the idea that they keep lock away because their associates might "think we're bad parents because only bad parents would let their child turn out like you" is SO REAL. So many people act like autistic traits can be "parented" out of a kid. The kind of people who say, "If you just MAKE them eat the vegetables, then they will like them!" As if sensory issues will just magically go away with exposure 🙄. You can only fix irrational fears with exposure therapy. Like if you're afraid of plates, then you can sit in a room as they fill it with plates until you realize that the plates can't hurt you, idk. It's not an IRRATIONAL fear to be afraid of the vacuum cleaner's sound if the sound is ACTUALLY PAINFUL. Then it's just a normal reaction to being in pain!! And maybe you will grow to like the taste of food or something over time, but forcing a kid to be in constant pain is traumatizing. They can get those nutrients from a variety of sources. Pushing them past their breaking point because of their sensory issues will only make their aversion worse.

Anyway, I feel very strongly about that topic lol. Thanks for the message!

[galvanizedfriend]

Yokan, hii!! how are you??

I just finished a little something something for you 👀 but that's not the subject of this ask!!

I know that between RL and zero inspiration, your stories are on a stall, but I've read once that asking/commenting on artists' works might help them get out of the autor block, so let's see if it actually works!!

So, I've recently seen a few scenes of Aurora in legacies and the originals, and I've been thinking... What will (or had) happen to her on The Wolf?

Did her unconscious body get lost into some old tomb and just left to rot? Did Marcel kill her at some point in these 5 years? Did she magically survive like she did in TO?

I know that she's probably not a character that you care enough for to give her any sort of ending, but you're also famous for fixing TO's plotholes, so! here it is!

Also, besides her role in TW, what's your opinion on her?

I've seen her in Legacies, and I LOVED her, and while searching for some scenepacks, I found out a klaurora one, with all their scenes and mentions, and I loved even more!

Unlike Camille, she grew out of her attachment to Klaus (for the most part) once he turned his back on her, and she actually had some character development in Legacies (I know you haven't watched it, and frankly I wish I didn't either, but it felt right to still mention this).

In addition, I love how she laughed at Camille for calling Klaus "good" lol she was really baffled by the therapist's naivety.

That's it!! Hope Barcelona is treating you right 🥹🫶🏻 love you, take care!

Oh? 👀👀 What something something? I'm curious now.

I don't know that talking about TW is gonna make me inspired at this stage, but why not 😂

I think I've shared my opinion on Aurora several times. I'm not a fan. The concept of Aurora is fine and I like it a lot, it's the execution that I really hate. I think they had a chance to go a really fantastic story line and they butchered it the same way they butchered everything else in TOS3. There is no consistency whatsoever and Aurora suffers maybe more than almost everyone else. They couldn't decide what to do with her, and so they ended up getting rid of her in a very random way (and forgetting she was still there at all until apparently someone from the Legacies writing team remembered it). I haven't seen Legacies, so can't speak for what they did to her there.

I don't think she grew out of her attachment to Klaus at all actually, and that's the part that really annoyed me. She was an interesting character up until the point where she becomes the crazy jealous ex-girlfriend who snaps at the mere mention of Cami's name and decides to prove to Klaus that they belong together because Cami is not as good and pure as he thinks she is. 🙄 As if she has spent 1000 years waiting for nothing more than to be reunited with Klaus. Then she's just the spiteful ex with a vendetta against the girl he likes. I mean… There are millions of ways they could've gone about Aurora's character, but they chose to go with the worst. She had every reason to resent the Mikaelsons, more so than Lucien or Tristan, even Klaus. She could've been a bright (if deranged) character, instead she's shown to be dellusional and petty. I think when she laughs at Cami's alleged naivety, the story suggests that the joke is on her, which………. Well.

TOS3 is so erratic it's hard to know what they were aiming for at the beginning, it feels like they veered directions about 200 times while trying to find their footing. My suspicion is that they were getting pressured because of the low ratings and so had to keep trying to "fix" the season, only making it more and more inconsistent. The fact they ended up killing Cami out of nowhere and then got shrunk down to 13 episodes sort of confirms that. Maybe they had better ideas for Aurora at first, but ended up ruining it while trying to fix Cami's path within the story. Still, I'm not a fan of S3 at all, and least of all what they did to the trio. I had high hopes for them.

Sorry for the rant 😂 I could keep going forever and ever about this, but yeah. I'm not a fan of how it all turned out. Concept!Aurora is great, but what she's actually like on the show, not so much. For me, at least. I realize I might be in the minority here because most people seem to favor S3 of TO. Maybe it's because Aurora offers a counterpoint to Cami that is more interesting. I was just annoyed by the narrative 😂

[ozwuv]

If I have hand pains (as artists get) what’s should I do? Do you recommend any exercises?

hmmm so i don't get hand pains necessarily, but i did damage my ulnar nerve pretty badly end of 2019-2020 from the oz fanbook grind lol. this led to a constant, dull pain in my dominant arm and persistent numbness in my hand. for a long time, i couldn't hold a pencil at all and to this day my grip is pretty weak. i remember when acnh came out in march 2020, i cried out of frustration constantly bc my grip was so lax i couldn't play.

that said, i'm speaking from experience when i say that taking advice on stretching techniques i found online made things way, way worse for me because it exacerbated the nerve damage i didn't know i had until i saw a doctor. the wrong kind of stretches can be more damaging than helpful if you're not doing them correctly, and especially if you have some kind of underlying issue that would be counterproductive for. the same thing goes for wrist braces and such -- a lot of people recommend them, but the wrong kind of brace can damage you further, and you should not be constantly wearing a brace unless a medical professional has told you to; constant usage of braces weakens your muscles over time because the brace prevents you from actually using them. if you have the means for it, i would really recommend consulting a physical therapist for preventative care.

but i didn't have access to medical care for a long time, so i get that's not feasible for everyone. if that's you, basic harm reduction guidelines are good to keep in mind. these are going to be things you've undoubtedly heard before, but they're drilled into your head for good reason:

take breaks. set a timer for every ~30-60 min and every time it goes off, get up, walk around, flex your hands and wrists, etc. ideally at least 10 minutes.

keep plenty of water within arm's reach at all times. hydration manages/prevents pain more than you might think. as soon as my grip gets too slack, i know that i need to stop drawing and drink a ton of water, but you should be drinking fluids at a semi-constant rate so you don't get to that point.

if you're in pain, stop drawing. no "i'll just wrap up the lines and then stop" -- listen to your body. if you're hurting, you've already pushed it too far and anything more is just going to make it worse.

posture posture posture -- any kind of posture advice for office workers generally applies to drawing.

^if you use a screen tablet (like cintiq or ipad) it's going to be virtually impossible to maintain good posture without buying a tablet arm or something. in cases like that, you should place even more of an emphasis on harm reduction or maybe even consider switching to an analog tablet so your monitor is at eye level. personally i'm in it for the longhaul with my ipad though lol

unfortunately advice like this kinda sucks for ppl with ADHD (meee) because pausing in the middle of something can cause you to become distracted or lose motivation. i don't really have a solution for that, but ultimately i got to the point where the nerve damage was so bad that i solidified these habits to prevent making it worse. i do get distracted and lose motivation a lot, but i did that to myself by not treating my body with the care it deserved.

if you take one thing from this response, let it be this: if you don't already experience chronic pain and/or nerve damage while drawing constantly without taking necessary precautions, it's not a matter of "if" you develop these issues, but "when". if you don't already have chronic pain from drawing, your goal right now should not be to preemptively look into things to remedy it, it should be seeking to prevent these issues altogether. work in some good habits, even if it's just taking breaks every now and then. even just one break per drawing is better than no breaks at all. i thought i was immune to these issues for over a decade & then i developed arthritis in my upper vertebrae at 20 years old lol nobody is immune i prommy<3

[our-queer-experience]

I am afab, but recently I have been questioning my gender. I at least want to feel masc, I think I want to cut my hair, and get a bit bigger, and dress more masculine, etc. I'm not sure how comfortable I am with the idea of top or bottom surgery (definitely not bottom surgery lol) but i think i might like to try binding. I used to imagine what my name would be if I was a boy (I could only think of one and I didn't like it lol) I have always been attracted to more masculine characters in media and I kinda want to be them.

The idea that I might be ftm has gotten into my head and now I can't shake it loose, but I haven't experienced a whole lot of dysphoria? (Or if I have, I wouldn't know for certain, but I recently had to try on a few dresses for my family and I was severely uncomfortable to the point where I cried several times lol) (I was also told that I was very girly by some friends as a kid and haven't worn a dress and have avoided the color pink since then lol)

Funnily enough I have been feeling more comfortable with my femininity since I started to explore my potential masculinity, but idk if that's just because I'm getting older

I haven't experienced intense body dysphoria, and am not unhappy in my body? I don't really know if this qualifies as gender dysphoria but I just cannot stop thinking about it and I was hoping to get some opinions lol

Thank you if you've read this far, and thank you so much if you take the time to try and help me out with this, lol

so there are three different types of dysphoria that are often talked about- social, physical, and mental(let me prefice this by saying it is not medically recognized this way, but this is how ive heard some therapists explain it).

physical dysphoria is jusy what it sounds like. a discomfort with your body because of how it relates or doesnt relate to your body.

social dysphoria is the discomfort you get being socially recognized as the gender you dont feel like you are.

and mental dysphoria is like discomfort with how your brain processes gender, like being uncomfortable with being a female-bodied boy or a male-bodied girl or nb with any body.

using me as an example- i had bo dysphoria with my secondary or primary sex characteristics until i started puberty at around 10/11, but ive had social dysphoria since 7ish. my mental dysphoria mostly surrounded me feeling like id always be too much of a boy to be considered a girl, but becausenof my body id never be considered one of the boys. personally, it was that not belonging to either gender or sex that was difficult.

you can have different combinations of all these types of dysphoria! folks can have just social dysphoria or just physical dysphoria or even none at all. some transitions are fueled by euphoria- the sense of joy or happiness or contentedness when recognized as the gender you feel you are.

but if were talking about gender dysphoria, the one from the DSM, they do have written criteria that is quite helpful! althought, keep in mind, not every trans person qualifies for the diagnosis- some people have the diagnosis but as they transition they stop qualifying for it, or they transition without ever having the diagnosis, or they dont transition and dont have the diagnosis but are still trans… we contain multitudes!

“The DSM-5-TR defines gender dysphoria in adolescence and adults as a marked incongruence between one’s experienced gender and their assigned gender, lasting at least 6 months, as manifested by at least two of the following.

a marked incongruence between one’s experienced/expressed gender and primary and/or secondary sex characteristics(or in young adolescents, the anticipated secondary sex characteristics)

a strong desire to be rid of one’s primary and/or secondary sex characteristics(or in young adolescence, a desire to prevent the development of anticipated secondary sex characteristics)

a strong desire for the primary and/or secondary sex characteristics of the opposite gender(or some alternative gender different from one’s assigned gender).

a strong desire to be of the other gender(or some alternative gender different from one’s assigned gender).

a strong desire to be treated as the other gender(or some alternative gender different from one’s assigned gender)

a strong conviction that one has the typical feelings and reactions of the other gender(or some alternative gender different from one’s assigned gender)

In order to qualify for the diagnosis, the condition must be associated with clinically significant distress, or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning.”

but the most important part of the question “am i ftm” is really this- do i feel like a man? when i look in the mirror, do i see a man/am i happiest when i see a man? do i consider myself a man?

these questions are complex- id recommend keeping a journal to document your thoughts on this, to help you reflect on your emotions and experiences. that helped me be quite confident in my identity. i also listened to a lot of interview- laura jane grace has great insights, youtubers like jammidogger or noahfince or sam collins talk about their own transitions a lot.

you can also try socially transitioning to see if it feels right- getting a gender affirming haircut, trying out a new name, asking your friends and family members to call you he/him to see if it feels right. of course, do this all within the bounds of your safety, which comes first. it can take a while to figure out, and you may never figure it out, but its worth trying.

[smaeemo]

I have a hard time with writing, only because I have so many ideas and thoughts, but getting them down in a grammatically correct way that is also readable is unbelievably hard. I envy the people that love to write, because I love to talk, love to share my ideas more than anything, but finding people who want to listen? Harder than it seems, so writing seems like the best answer right? I wish it were as easy as that, I just word vomit on a page and hope it's coherent enough to get my point across. I think that one day I will get good enough at writing that people will want to read and enjoy my writing. I have so many good ideas, and enough time on my hands to perfect a short novel. I just can't find it in myself to write well, and I am sitting here going "I think I am writing this Tumblr post well, so what will people think?". But as it seems, I still don't think it's good enough to share.

Sometimes I write things down in a diary and then leave it, but it's too much pressure, what if someone reads it and starts to not only judges me but also judges the writing. "That's not where a comma goes" they'd say.

I started writing my thoughts and feelings on paper, then trying the courage to burn them. I got scared of that too, I don't want to start a fire I reasoned. I held the matches up to the pages, the same matches that light my grandmas yahrzeit candles, it just didn't feel right, so I put the papers down and put away the matches. "Tomorrow I will do it" I said to myself.

The pages are still in a box I like to call "My shit box" where I keep all of the "shit" I don't know where to put. Inside said "shit box" are small weird glass animals (lol) that I got from my ex-therapist's office every time I went to see her. I later fired her for "being too empathetic" and then moved all of the animals from my desk into the sad repurposed shoe box. And Thus "the shit box" became as it is now.

Over the years it has started to accumulate, pictures I liked, but not enough to hang up, movie tickets I saved from a cancelled "date", old math homework that I got 100% on, "My kids might want to see this: I said to myself at 3AM while hurriedly cleaning my room because I saw a beatle in the corner of my room while trying to sleep. The box also has small knick knacks I found while "out and about", a leaf I thought looked perfect enough to save, a bottle cap that had slightly melted into the asphalt during the summer from hell, and a pair of earing that my grandma gave me for purim. "I saw these and thought of you" she said to me. They are ugly sparkly red white and blue giant studs that are possibly the last thing that I would ever wear, even after I got my ears re-piecered.

The earings themselves aren't what made me put them in there, but instead I put them in there because my grandmother is 80, and "She's going to die soon, keep everything she gives you as a memory". I think I only just realized truly, I don't really want her to die. I mean I never did want that or wish for it in the slightest. I just never really thought about it until she broke her hip, and started to "make the turn".

I made her paper flowers the other day. I used some old news papers (she still buys them every day and asks me to get them for her when the porch is icy) and cut them into separate flowery pieces on accident. I had originally been looking for something to cut, I had just found my good scissors and wanted to make something. I was going to use paper, but my grandmother had called me into her room a week prior to tell me "I worry so much about your generations paper usage" as if her generation didn't also use an outrageous amount of paper too, given that they didn't have computers for better or worse. Anyways, I used some news papers, stuff I assume was from a while ago because it had made its way under one of our three couches in a living room clearly designed for no more than 1. I started by taking the newspaper and making some paper snowflakes, because you know scissors and paper and fun and all that. But that slowly blossomed (lol) into paper flower heads. I stuck all the newly made "blooms" onto some already destroyed paperclips that I wrapped in a destroyed sock (curtousey of the last time I found my good scissors) and then put them all in an empty medication container that I then wrapped in stickers. I set this all in her room with a note that said "Thought you may enjoy some flowers that don't wilt" and left it at that. 2 days later she walks into my room and goes "did you make these for me?" "yes I did" "oh how nice", then over the next week she kept walking in and asking the same inquiry if I had made them or not. Sometimes she would compliment them and other times she would simply state how wasteful I had been. I realized then, I should start saving all of the moments I have with her. So now when I look into my "shit box" and see the ugly patriotic earings (I was born on July 4th and she takes that very seriously), I no longer see what a younger me would have seen "she doesn't know me that well" has a brand new meaning. I decided I no longer wanted to look at the earings she gave me, and dwell on the fact that I had indeed saved them for a reason, and instead started to sift through the box. Finding all of the letters I had written and meant to burn. "Maybe today is a better time, after all it just rained". So I pack up my papers under my arm and put away the "shit box" and head downstairs. I start my hunt for the matches forgetting why I didn't burn them the last time. I find the matches, but evidently I put them away again. "better save those for my grandmother" I say to myself, unaware of the truer meaning behind those words until now.

"oh" I say as I head back up the stairs.

"Maybe next time," I say as I put the letters back into the "shit box" pointedly avoiding eye contact with the earrings.

I sigh, and sit in my chair, and try to write another letter, that evidently, will never get burned.

[femmefatalevibe]

What tips do you have for someone who is trying to date/get out there but has become really jaded by people (especially men)?

I'm trying to get out there and go on dates but I'm SO jaded and negative towards it. Like I'll go on a few dates with someone and get attached too easily and then they end up being a terrible person, or I'l go out with someone a few times and feel nothing towards them. Then by the end I'm like "woe is me, I'm gonna die alone, this is stupid bullsh*t."

I feel like I always get hurt or that there's no point bc I never find anyone that I like that is also interested. (I'm also pretty picky, so I'm sure that's part of why I don't really get many dates lol).

I feel like there's a bit of an all or nothing mentality when I meet them like "we're either going to be together or this is going to fall apart". and I hate that mindset.

I've mostly avoided it because I don't want to be hurt, and part of me is still fighting that part that's trying to protect me from being hurt. It's just frustrating because I want to date but it can feel like nobody wants to date me (which is something I'm def. working on with a therapist). Every time I meet a guy that seems interested, I try to remind myself there's no other shoe to drop, then another shoe always drops.

TLDR: How can I date without getting too attached/not feeling anything and stop worrying about if I'm going to get hurt or not? Is there some way to look at dating in another light that takes some of this pressure off?

Hi love! I feel you on being jaded when it comes to dating/the dating scene.

My best advice is to reframe dating as a self-discovery journey (versus a self-imposed mission to find love). Get to know these people as a way to learn what characteristics you like, dislike, desire, and/or despise in a (potential) partner. Consider the qualities, gestures, and character traits that you find compatible or incompatible with your needs and values along the way. You might just find particular green or red flags you didn't know to look for until you encounter them in the wild.

Instead of telling yourself ""we're either going to be together or this is going to fall apart," try to evaluate the relationship by discerning the compatibilities vs. the incompatibilities you see. After some time, you probably will start to see some patterns and early warning signs of incompatibilities or toxic behaviors before you invest too much time or energy into the relationship.

Before a date, just think of the meeting as a networking opportunity. it offers you the opportunity to learn about someone else, observe how you present yourself to others, discuss likes, dislikes, hobbies, values, etc. and see if there's a connection there. Every date brings you closer to better understanding yourself and what you're looking for in a partner, so finding someone who is long-term partner potential is simply a welcomed bonus.

Hope this helps xx