#we don't have our next session scheduled yet

[toonyballoony]

Used a scene from our last D&D session to play around with Clip Studio Paint's features. Not 100% satisfied or sure what techniques I'll use moving forward but it was an interesting experiment!

[shrenvents]

Hi love, you have an amazing imagination, and I love your writing style. I was wondering if you could maybe do some more with Wolverine. I'm in that x men stage again. And I loved you last piece of work on him. Maybe you could do a continuation of it or think of something completely new. Anyway, dont feel pressured ❤️

A/N: ur actually so sweet, thank uu! I'm also rlly shocked but appreciative of all the love Professor Howlett received, so u don't even have to ask twice for more, it's my pleasure ;)

Divided Attention

Professor Howlett II

Part one

Warnings: minors dni, Smut, fluff, language, jealousy, (legal) age gap, oral, f!receiving, semi-public

Pairing: Logan x Student (Mutant) reader

Summary: Things were going well with you and Logan, until he suddenly put distance between you both, acting strangely. On top of that, you catch him threatening one of your fellow classmates and have no choice, but to face your issues, head-on.

Word count: 2.6k

…

Any small moment together, Logan and I chased. The little highs we could derive from our busy schedules, we eagerly pursued.

From a quickie in the janitor's closet, a make-out session after class, or a passionate sleepover, Logan consumed every inch of my life. He was consuming every bit of my mind, and an ominous trepidation was closing in, alongside him.

The more I saw him, the greedier I became. Desperate to see and feel more of him, beyond the surface. So, it was no surprise, that I soon desired something more from our casual relationship.

With graduation just around the corner, I was almost home free. Free to outwardly tell him what I yearned for.

But the concern that racked my brain constantly, that trepidation, was whether he wanted the same.

As I was getting to know him, it was clear there were parts of him I had yet to discover, parts he seemed reluctant to reveal. Sometimes he would be open, close by my side. The next second, he would shut down.

What made matters worse, was that recently, he hadn't sought me out. It's felt as though he's no longer hungry for those small moments, that I still very much craved.

Now I'm on edge and have no clue what he's thinking, or what he thinks of us.

...

The day started like any other. I went to each class, exhausted and disinterested, till that afternoon. Something caught my eye, and the eyes of the school's populace: Logan pinning a male student to the wall of the vast, oak wood hallway.

They speak in hushed tones to one another, and the boy looks beyond frightened, while Logan looks ready to tear his head from his scrawny neck.

It takes only a moment for my alarm to pass, and for me to note, that this boy sits next to me in history.

A sharp intake of breath hitches in my throat.

His name's Mikey, and he has been a nuisance to Logan from the get-go, long before our intimate affair. Labelled as the class clown, Mikey uses his obnoxious voice and meddling powers to disturb Logan's lessons, daily. To top it off, Mikey consistently bothers me, mimicking what I say, and staring at my profile, for far too long.

Just when Logan dips his head closer to Mikey, perhaps to rip out his jugular, like the predator he is, Scott interjects.

"Logan! Drop him!" When Scott's unnerved voice orders Logan, my eyes snap to Mikey's feet, which are spraddled in the air, dangling for dear life.

I guess a few days apart made me forget just how strong he is. Maybe he's just too gentle with me to remember.

As his feet slowly lower to the floor, gasps and murmurs flood the halls, and my head frantically shoots around, surprised by the crowd of avid onlookers.

Eyes anxiously surveying the students, I hone in on Logan again, flinching when seeing his pupils, already fixed on me.

He releases Mikey immediately, retracting from him while Scott grabs his bicep, heatedly whispering into his ear, and Mikey scrambles away.

Logan's eyes shy from mine and my mouth gaps. He almost looks, embarrassed. 'Huh?'

Soon, other teachers arrive to intervene, shooing students from the crime scene.

So, aimlessly wandering outside, into the courtyard, hoping to clear my head, I think back on our classes together. Every time Mikey acted up, Logan seemingly couldn’t care less, looking more spent overall, than unsettled by his brazen jokes.

It was kind of funny, seeing Mikey quaking in his boots at the older male. It was only yesterday, that he spoke to me with such forwardness, and to Logan with such rudeness, carrying that typical smug expression -it was nice to see it wiped clean.

I laugh to myself, disbelieving what just transpired. I can only imagine what errand Professor Xavier will make Logan do to atone, or what bonding exercise he and Mikey may perform...

While I trudge down the stone steps, onto the vivid green field, I spot the devil himself, Mikey. He sits under the shade of a grand willow tree, dome hung between his bent knees.

Feeling rather empathetic, I stroll towards him, stopping in front of his feet. Evidently noticing my bright attire, his head pops up, and his dewy eyes widen.

"You alright?" I ask warily and his bottom lip trembles. He sniffs once, toughening up before responding, "I'm good." I nod, then look at the endless landscape to my right. "Whatever you did must've really been something, Mr. Howlett's rarely that peeved."

"You're telling me," he huffs sarcastically, sounding pained. Shifting, I sit beside him, maintaining some space. "If you don't mind me asking, what was that about?" Mikey pauses, thinking hard.

"No clue," he mumbles pitifully. I gawk at him, brows creasing. He peers at me and copies my appearance. "I'm not lying," he exclaims defensively. "There's no way," I retort, scoffing.

"If you don't fucking believe me, why ask," Mikey spits, mumbling "bitch" as he shoots to stomp off.

Suspiring, my crown gingerly falls onto the tree's trunk. Finding comfort in its rugged bark, I calmly savour the crisp air.

I close my eyes, for what feels like a few minutes until a fierce call of my name grips my consciousness. Eyelids cracking open, my vision focuses on Mr. Howlett himself, standing in all his glory, glaring down at me with a brooding look.

"If it isn't the man of the hour," I giggle humourlessly, straightening my spine, but choosing not to stand and seem intimidated, like he evidently wishes me to be.

"You have a nice chat?" Logan questions with an irked tone, obviously remarking on my 'chat' with Mikey. 'Was he watching us?'

I tilt my head defiantly. "I'm not picking sides," I raise both hands in surrender, smiling from ear to ear. His eye faintly twitches, and I nearly gulp. He grumbles incomprehensible nonsense, then chooses to stay relatively quiet, which is unlike him.

"Do you have something to say? Or are you just gonna stand there?" I inquire venomously.

Clearly dispising my attitude, he concentrates on my face, scowling. His features have rage written all over them, but I refuse to bow out of this impending feud.

He grumbles under his breath again, and I break.

"Speak up!" I shout, swiftly bringing my gaze to our surroundings, making sure we're alone -which is something Logan clearly isn't worried about.

"What the fuck do you two have to talk about?" He just about growls and I tense, stunned. My face contorts with perplexity. "Me and Mikey?" I question, and his eyebrows nearly conjoin in response. "Not much, just discussing you're outburst," heaving, I continue, "though he didn't have much to say on the topic," sighing, "you?"

His nostrils flare slightly, and I do my best to appear composed. "What else have you talked about?" He grunts, and I roll my eyes, rising to my feet, bored with our conversation. "What's it to you?" I ask rhetorically, internally referring to the distance he'd been building between us.

Moving elsewhere, I roughly brush past his shoulder. He doesn't immediately reply, but trails after me as I march further into the courtyard.

"The fuck you on about?" Logan vulgarly rumbles, and I forget to speak.

My pace then staggers when he delicately wraps his digits over my forearm, tugging me, almost cautiously, backward.

Square to him, I discern his thumb tracing my skin lightly, before finally looking at him. He examines his finger as it sweeps across my flesh. "Logan?" I carefully utter, and his eyes stay glued to where our bodies meet.

"Why do you talk to him," he pauses, snarling with emphasis on 'talk,' yet again. Then he murmurs, "-When you have me?" He’s so quiet, that the words are barely audible. My features instantly soften. “Are you,” I hesitate, “Jealous?”

When he doesn’t answer, I gasp so loud, that my palm slaps over my mouth. He looks around, avoiding eye contact as I grasp the situation. “Did you threaten Mikey 'cause he yaps to me in class?”

Logan scorned the very idea of jealousy, cruising his head in a circle, to showcase his exasperation. I smirk uncontrollably and he snits. "Don't flatter yourself Princess," he remarks blatantly. My smirk only expands. "I can't believe you," I laugh hysterically and he motions like he's going to walk away, but he stays put, and I know I've won.

"Don't pull that face," he complains, gesturing to my proud look.

"What face?" I ask, playing naive, faintly swinging my body side to side. "Just stop talking to him, he's a bad influence," he grunts, peering off to the horizon. I giggle, "Or what? Do you intend to beat every boy who speaks to me?" I counter, and he struggles to fight a smile.

"What if I do," Logan more or less declares.

Shaking my head, "You've got some nerve," I huff, "seeing as you've been avoiding me lately."

"I haven't been avoiding you-"

I interrupt, "Oh yes, you have," playfully punching his gut with a grin, which drops the second my knuckles practically grow a heartbeat. "Ow," I breathe and at last, he laughs.

When Logan's laugh dims, he looks almost sullen. "Didn't think you'd notice," he mumbles and I quirk my chin in confusion. "You seem preoccupied." Gapping at him once more, he rolls his eyes, showing his teeth. "Don't gimme that damn look girl," he heaves, "you're young and, and-"

"And what?"

"Attractive," he sighs heavily, "you don't need an old man weighing you down."

I still, catching his genuine displeasure and defeat. It's like he's disappointed I may seek romance from someone else, but accepts it regardless, for my sake, my happiness.

My heart thumps irregularly and I feel like jumping his bones. I release a lengthy sigh, with a smile twinkling. His brow rises questioningly, seeming anxious about a reaction to his masked insecurity.

"What?" He bites.

"I'm relieved," his confusion visibly progresses. "I thought you were tired of me." As his mouth opens, to probably insult my intelligence, I cut in. "I wanna go steady with you, if that wasn't obvious already." My smile grows sheepish, then taunting, "I like you Lo, and clearly you must love me."

Like he's been holding his breath, a loud puff of air escapes his chapped lips, and I shamelessly watch as he wets them.

"You've gotta be the strangest girl I've ever met," he utters with a smirk forming, and I return one, interpreting his words as a declaration of love.

"Woman," I correct, then babble jokingly, "refined Lady." He confidently strides closer. "Mistress-"

The air leaves my lungs as his solid arms devour me, squeezing tightly.

"You best realize what you're committing to," Logan comments, lightly lifting strands of my hair with his fingertips, to kiss my neck. "That means, no more talking to boys," he grunts, humour coaxing his tone. "Especially ones so far out of your league," he pulls his head back, to peer at my expectant face, "It's not even funny," he finishes with a grin.

I laugh, unable to contain my joy, quickly hiding my wild smile in his chest. A pleased hum rumbles in tune with his heavy breathing, and I listen to his heartbeat's fairly, rapid pace.

For a while, we stay present in each other's arms, with fulfillment and ease consuming our beings, synchronously. Logan's fingers drift across my lower back, leisurely tracing my curves.

"I like you, so much," I whisper airly because the words couldn't be repressed, and had escaped. His hands gradually slow to a halt, till he abruptly draws back. He looks at me, with such intense seriousness, that I shudder.

Then, he pulls away entirely, taking my hand in his larger one, to drag me deeper into the field -into the overgrown areas, looted with massive trees and bushes.

"Logan?" My whisper transforms into a squeak when I'm hauled behind various, untrimmed hedges. His palms grope my hips, stilling me before he drops to his knees. I ogle his smug face as it bores into me, before he wrestles with my pink, low-waisted, jean shorts, impatiently dragging them down my plump thighs. He mumbles, "Ridiculous" when his eyeline levels with my purple, close-to-sheer underwear.

Like my shorts, he yanks them down to my ankles, then swiftly encloses his mouth over my cunt, swiping the folds with his tongue. I throw the back of my hand over my incoming yelp, biting down to muffle it.

"Is this you tryna to deflect admitting you really like me?" I joke meekly as my mouth parts from my hand, but I quickly chomp down again, when he licks me, with a long flick of his tongue. I gasp and whimper, using my spare hand to claw at his scalp for leverage, as he hungrily laps my pussy, sucking on its nub.

A tremor racks my insides, eliciting spasms while he builds up a powerful, but excruciatingly relaxed pace. His bulky digits move to relentlessly rub my clit, applying a rhythmic pressure that makes me sob.

Logan shushes me, mouth still buried in my folds. The buzz of his voice sends shivers through my core, and the strength of his action grows, acknowledging my imminent finish.

“Eyes on me,” Logan basically growls, before diving back into my cunt.

I muffle a cry of his name with a fist now, biting my knuckles. Then, I look from the heavens, back down to the one hand I still have, clenching his silky locks.

My knees begin to buckle and his sizeable palms relocate to support my hips, with his fingertips bordering my ass, kneading it. "I'm close," I gasp, barely audible through my hand. He hums again, and when it elicits another shiver, and shake of my frame, I tumble over his back, wrecked by my climax.

Now hunched over him, with my hands splayed down his torso, I tremble furiously, coming down from my high. I can't help but whine when Logan continuously licks me. He tastes every inch of me like I'm the meal of a lifetime, like I'm oxygen itself.

"Enough," I choke, as my arousal becomes too much. His response is simply plunging further into me, to lick all the way from my ass, to clit.

Steam floods my stomach, lighting me on fire. A raging flame consumes my very being, and I relish in how dirty and dangerous this encounter is -in public on his knees for me, Logan made it known that I'm his, and he let me know, that he couldn't care less who heard us, because I was his.

"You're disturbed," I breathe, and his chuckle resonates louder when he separates from my damp skin. "You love it," he states with a smirk and an arch of his brow. He then runs his tongue over his soaked lips, and I bite back a groan, sighing, "I do."

Lifting, moving my palms to his shoulders, I capture his top lip, sucking on it as a thank you. I grin, and as if he can hear my jest coming from a mile away, he scoffs and turns to hide his smirk.

"And you must lovveee me," I repeat my earlier comment with even more enthusiasm, and he shakes his head.

He rises and I do the same. Logan then goes in for a kiss to shut me up, but just as he does, I catch his mumble of "I do."

I gasp into his mouth, eyelids stretching.

My lids briskly flutter shut when he deepens the kiss, dipping my figure, rather romantically, and we both smile.

[misswynters]

Gym Confession

tom taylor x gn! reader

word count: 1.3k

a/n: the fic i’m writing for aeron/benji/reader is taking forever so here’s another one!@benjicotblckwood

The early morning sun peeked through the windows of the gym, casting a warm glow on the equipment. You and Tom Taylor had made it a habit to work out together whenever your schedules allowed. Today was one of those rare days where neither of you had any pressing commitments, and you were determined to make the most of it.

Tom was already at the gym when you arrived, warming up with some stretches. He flashed you a bright smile as you approached. "Hey! Ready to get started?"

"Absolutely," you replied, returning his smile. "What's the plan for today?"

He glanced at his phone, where he'd made a rough outline of the workout. "I was thinking we could start with some cardio, then move on to strength training. How does that sound?"

"Perfect," you said, feeling a rush of excitement. Working out with Tom was always fun; his enthusiasm and positive energy were contagious.

You both hopped on adjacent treadmills and began your warm-up. As the treadmills hummed beneath you, Tom started to talk about his latest project. "So, we've just wrapped up filming, and I think this one's going to be really special. The script was incredible, and the cast was amazing."

"That's great to hear," you said, slightly breathless as you picked up the pace. "I can't wait to see it. You're always so passionate about your work."

Tom grinned, clearly pleased. "Thanks. It means a lot to hear that from you."

After the cardio session, you moved on to the weight machines. Tom adjusted the settings on one of the machines and gestured for you to take the first turn. "How about we start with some leg presses?"

You nodded, positioning yourself on the machine. As you began your set, Tom stood by, offering encouragement. "You've got this. Keep your back straight and push through your heels."

His supportive words and watchful eye helped you maintain proper form, and before you knew it, you'd finished your set. Tom took his turn next, and you returned the favor, cheering him on.

"Come on, Tom! You make this look easy," you teased, watching as he effortlessly completed his reps.

He laughed, the sound bright and genuine. "Don't be fooled. I'm working hard here."

The two of you moved through the rest of your workout, alternating between different exercises and machines. Between sets, you chatted about everything from favorite movies to weekend plans, the conversation flowing naturally and easily.

As the session drew to a close, you both found yourselves at the stretching area, cooling down with some light stretches. Tom reached over and handed you a bottle of water. "Here, you need to stay hydrated."

"Thanks," you said, taking a grateful sip. "I think that was one of our best workouts yet."

"I agree," Tom said, his eyes meeting yours with a warm, genuine expression. "I always look forward to these sessions. It's nice to have a workout partner who pushes me and keeps things fun."

"Right back at you," you replied, feeling a sense of camaraderie and appreciation. "You make it so much easier to stay motivated."

As you both finished your stretches, Tom glanced at his watch. "Hey, I've got a bit of time before my next appointment. How about we grab a smoothie or something?"

"That sounds great," you said, smiling. "I know just the place."

You both headed out of the gym, the sun now higher in the sky, promising a beautiful day ahead. The nearby smoothie bar was a favorite of yours, known for its delicious and healthy options. As you walked, Tom fell into step beside you, the easy conversation continuing.

When you reached the smoothie bar, you both ordered your favorites and found a table by the window. As you sipped your drinks, Tom leaned back in his chair, a contented look on his face.

"Days like this are the best," he said, his eyes reflecting a sense of peace. "Good workout, good company, and a great smoothie to top it off."

You nodded in agreement, feeling a similar sense of satisfaction. "Couldn't agree more. It's nice to take a break and enjoy the little things."

Tom's gaze softened as he looked at you, his smile gentle. "You know, I'm really glad we do this. It means a lot to have you as a friend and workout partner."

"Same here," you replied, your heart warming at his words. "Here's to many more workouts and smoothies together."

Tom raised his smoothie cup in a mock toast, and you clinked yours against it, both of you laughing. It was moments like these that made you appreciate the special bond you shared, built on mutual respect, support, and genuine friendship.

As you finished your drinks and prepared to head your separate ways, you couldn't help but notice the way Tom's eyes lingered on you a little longer than usual. There was something in his gaze, a hint of unspoken tension that hadn't been there before.

Later that week, you and Tom found yourselves at the gym again, ready for another workout. This time, there was a slight awkwardness in the air, a tension that neither of you had addressed yet.

Tom adjusted the settings on the bench press, his movements more deliberate than usual. "Let's start with this today."

You nodded, sensing the change in his demeanor. As you took your turn on the bench press, you could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move. When it was his turn, you stood by, offering the same encouragement he always gave you.

"Come on, lord of the north. You got this," you said, trying to keep the tone light.

He managed a small smile but didn't respond with his usual banter. Instead, he focused on his reps, the silence between you growing heavier with each passing moment.

After finishing the set, Tom sat up, wiping sweat from his forehead. He glanced at you, his expression conflicted. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

You felt a knot form in your stomach. "Okay. What's going on?"

Tom took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. "I... I've been feeling something more than just friendship between us. And I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to ruin what we have. But it's getting harder to ignore."

Your heart raced, a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. You had always valued your friendship with Tom, but now you were forced to confront feelings you hadn't fully acknowledged.

"I don't want to ruin what we have either," you said softly. "But I can't deny that there's something there."

Tom's eyes softened, relief washing over his features. "So, what do we do?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. "I think we need to be honest with each other. We can take things slow and see where it goes. But whatever happens, I don't want to lose our friendship."

Tom nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "I can agree to that. Slow and honest."

The tension between you eased slightly, replaced by a sense of anticipation and curiosity about what the future might hold. As you continued your workout, the unspoken understanding between you added a new layer to your interactions.

Later, as you cooled down with some light stretches, Tom reached over and gently squeezed your hand. "Thanks for being honest with me. It means a lot."

You squeezed his hand back, feeling a sense of connection that was deeper than ever. "Thank you for bringing it up. I'm glad we talked about it."

As you both left the gym and headed to the smoothie bar once again, the conversation flowed more easily. There was still a lot to figure out, but you knew that with honesty and openness, you could navigate this new phase of your relationship together. Sitting at the same table by the window, sipping your smoothies, you felt a renewed sense of optimism.

[xuchiya]

freak [j.wooyoung]

₊˚.༄ || filth valentines m.list || hongjoong || seonghwa || yunho || yeosang || san || mingi || wooyoung || jongho || ₊˚.༄

₊˚.༄ Skirt off, fuck in the backseat Take that shirt off, baby, put it on me ₊˚.༄

Wooyoung knew that you were one of those goody-two shoe students yet he befriended you throughout primary and secondary school and even going through the same university to pursue different courses though he always finds his way to spend lunch with you (even with the conflict schedule). 

Many students or even professors assumed you both were high school sweethearts yet you both denied that you were childhood friends; to Wooyoung’s dismay, he wishes every night on the starry mobile in his room that someday, he would have the courage to ask you out.

  On the very next day, his wish was granted that he find himself confident and overall ready to face you though with a little nervous shaking down his form but he had already made up his mind. Wooyoung slammed his tray onto the table, startling you with the sudden noise. You winced, then teased, "Someone didn't have the best morning lecture, huh?"

He slumped into the chair across from you, letting out a dramatic sigh. "Professor Lee is a tyrant in disguise. Don't get me started on the never-ending case studies."

You chuckled, pushing your own tray closer. "Want a bite of my sandwich? Professor Kim's class wasn't much better." Wooyoung’s smile slowly returned as he stole a bite, one of the many reasons he admires. "Your cooking skills are the only consolation in my day."

The familiar comfort of your shared lunch, a routine that stretched back years, settled around you. Despite your claims of being "just friends," your interactions spoke volumes to bystanders. Stolen glances, comfortable silences, and a genuine interest in each other's lives.

"Why do we always say we're 'just childhood friends,'" Wooyoung blurted out, his voice suddenly serious. You were taken back. Wooyoung was never the person to question something that doesn’t need to be questioned unless he finds suspicion on it but questioning your friendship is something out of the list you were NOT expecting at all.

You froze, the half-eaten sandwich forgotten in your hand. "Well, it's... true, isn't it?"

Wooyoung studied your face, his gaze intense; his heart were everywhere as his eyes gaze at your almost shaking and teary eyes,"Is it, though? We've been through everything together, from scraped knees in kindergarten to late-night study sessions pulling our hair out."

His words echoed in your heart, stirring a pot of unspoken emotions. You felt the warmth creep up your cheeks, and you mumbled looking down on your try playing with your food as you settled the sandwich down, "I don't know, Wooyoung."

He leaned closer, his voice almost a whisper, "Maybe it's time we found out."

Your breath hitched, head raising as your eyes returned back to his warmth tone, his eyes were something you have always found solace. The air crackled with unspoken feelings. It was then you realised Wooyoung wasn't just frustrated about Professor Lee's class anymore. 

He was nervous, making his move.

A small smile played on your lips, "Alright," you finally said, "What do you have in mind?"

Wooyoung grinned, his eyes sparkling. "How about dinner? a real date. My treat."

Your heart soared. "I'd like that, Wooyoung."

And after years of university, graduating with flying colours you both were still on the hard ground of your relationship; people found out about your new level and everyone pointed at you all with ‘see!’ and even your professors (Mr. Lee and Mr. Kim) seemed to be pleased to hear you both together. But amidst the chaos, the foundation you'd built throughout your childhood and university days held strong. You celebrated small victories, commiserate over setbacks, and found solace in each other's unwavering support.

Then, came the turning point. Your new job brought you face-to-face with San and Mingi, two vibrant colleagues who quickly became your friends and confidantes though San worked as a paediatrician under the same company.

Your company consists of engineering, information technology and doctors. Two big buildings under the same company. That's why you and San were able to meet up since the cafeteria is big enough for all the employees of the company.

 Work transformed from a daily grind to a place of shared laughter and late-night brainstorming sessions fueled by take-out and caffeine.

Wooyoung, with his ever-supportive nature, was thrilled to see you blossoming in your new environment. He, too, found his groove at his own workplace, forging bonds with his coworkers. Yunho and Jongho, coincidentally one of them happens to be your half-brother who has been working in the engineering department.

As the night draws closer, you clock out with two of your friends and San decides to drag you both to a booth to drink. At first you decline the idea but San insists that a couple of drinks will help ease the tension and pressure from the three of you since our boss gave a bloody project to your department; at the end Mingi also agrees and gives you his usual begging eyes.

 “Fine but I’ll call my Wooyoung …” They cheered, looking for a table while you stayed outside to call your boyfriend. You told him about San and Mingi wanting a drink since the next days will be hell for the three of you and wanted to rewind a little bit.

Wooyoung nodded and wanted you to have fun which made you sigh in relief. You returned back inside to see the table already filled with food and drinks, “Took you so long we started without you!” You shake your head at Wooyoung’s patience.

After a few drinks, San received a call from his girlfriend saying where he is and asking for a weird combination of pickles and chocolates. Upon seeing your confused look, Mingi chuckles, “Cravings … it’s quite odd but it satisfies them.” 

Your eyebrows rose, “you seem to know what she was asking.” Mingi shrugs, taking a shot before taking a small bite of the fried shrimp, “Being a father of 2 kids.” San chuckles before dropping the call, “Her cravings get weirder and weirder everyday yet it feels amazing to see her growing well.”

“Is this how your wife normally craves or does she have other cravings you find odd, Mingi?” San took a shot before taking a huge bite of his food. Mingi hummed, thinking about his wife’s top cravings, “well when we had our daughter, she asked me to buy potato chips and peanut butter.” 

San laughs, shaking his head, “How long did it take?” Mingi shrugs, not really keeping up with his wife’s cravings, “I haven’t taken note about it.” You hummed thinking about your aunt who gave birth to his fourth baby, and you being the only one having long patience with her when it comes to her mood swings would not ask about her weird combinations of her cravings. “they said it usually ends around the third trimester.”  

San and Mingi looked at you, you stared back confused, “What?”

Mingi observes you before asking you the question, “Were you also …?” You gasp, smacking his arm playfully which sent them laughing, Mingi throwing his hands up in defence, “I just thought okay? I’m sorry” 

 “No, I mean not yet and besides Wooyoung and I had talked about it and maybe soon we will after marriage.”

San nodded in agreement, “But you guys have spice things up?” Mingi choked on his food, causing him to cough and turn around. Your cheeks flared in so many colours that it had you grabbing another bottle and pressing it to your heated up face, “Sa-San do not say those.”

San scoff, unable to believe to see your ‘unusual side’, he may be your friend in just a few years (unlike Woo) but he has seen the other side of you, your freaky side. So does Mingi; that’s why you three got along well. You three somehow spilled such filthy thoughts one time when you were over at San and how he got his girlfriend to be his or how Mingi had praised so much that you guys teased him for being a sub and soft  for his wife. 

Wooyoung may be someone you know for the longest time but sharing the ‘freak side’ as to what the boys call it, is something beyond your comfort. 

But who knows what Wooyoung prefers, right? Both you and Wooyoung had done it a lot of times. Vanilla sex or the first time he fucks on your twentieth-third birthday just right after everyone left , rough when he has been pent up from work and needed release or even going to the extent of him having you on his lap, facing the open field and fuck you on the viranda of your home and having him spreading your legs open as you squirt out on the open.

So tell yourself now how come you haven’t opened up to Wooyoung about it?

After a few more shots, the boys called it a night and went on their separate ways while you waited for Wooyoung to pick you up whilst having your mind drifted not only to your nasty but the thought of having a baby with you.

“Baby? You okay?” You yelp in surprise when a hand is placed on your shoulders scaring you out of your thoughts. Your eyes landed on Wooyung who had a worried face, “Wooyoungie –sorry my love, I’m a little .. preoccupied with work.” You sigh, miniscule yet noticeable from your boyfriend’s eyes. Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, the perks of knowing you and your body language; he knows what is up and he knows what to do.

“Come on, maybe you had too much to drink.” Maybe it is or maybe it’s the way Wooyoung led you to the car, hand hovering close to your ass that you knew he knows whats up.

“Ah-h f-fuck Wooyoung— UGH!” He had one hand on the steering wheel whilst the other buried knuckles deep inside your pussy. The seat was inclined, giving him the chance to move his hand freely which sends you rolling your eyes back.

Wooyoung chuckles, looking at the side before poking his tongue on his cheeks, “Will you tell me now why you were so “deep” on your thoughts, baby?” His hands move in a ‘come here’ slow motion, nudging that spongy spot immediately’ squirming and moaning breathlessly on your seat had you gripping his wrist as you grind shamelessly.

Woooyoung laughs looking to the side again to catch sight of a biker glancing at your side of the seat. He had notice the eyes prying but he loves the attention most especially showing off that HE can only do that to you, fuck you so good on the seat of his car and had you moaning mess underneath his fingers.

“N-nothing .. much love— Fuck fuck love I’m gonna cum!” Your breath hitches as Wooyoung let you cum on his fingers, the relief of releasing your high and riding it off had you breathing heavily on your seat, muscles relaxed and the car moving in go.

“That’s a good girl.” His hand grip your panty, guiding you to remove it before getting a small whiff of your essence before accelerating to home.

The car squeak, windows so foggy from the hot temperature of your heated body to body and legs spread open, thrown over each of the seat as Wooyoung who no longer had the patiences as his fingers glide on his tongue, tasting your essence and groaning from how sweet and salty it combines in his taste buds that sent him in feral state, parked on a motel and wasn’t able to book in and took you there on the back seat.

Skirt off and dick deep in.

Your eyes rolled back as you bit your lip, a playful smirk on your as your body rocks along with Wooyoung. Your hands were resting on your boobs, feeling them jiggle as Wooyoung continued drilling his cock, hitting each of your walls, reaching far down what his tip could go. His hands were gripping on the head seat as his hips snapped, burying you his cock deeper and deeper and even nudging his tip on your spongy spot that had you vocalising as your coil snaps and long ‘oh’s of your juice leaks out of your pussy.

“Fuck me harder Wooyoung, just like that~” His hand grip the back of your knees, pushing it close to your chest, “Make me squirt baby~ let me get that dick wet.” Your dirty tongue rolled off and made Wooyoung grip your legs tighter before slapping your clit causing you to whimper “Again baby please please!”

Wooyoung repeatedly slap your clip then rubs them, “Is this what you like, you freaky little girl? Is this what is in your mind, huh?” You chuckle your tongue gliding across your teeth, “More than this, I want you to ram me harder, make me wet and milk you dry. Have my pussy dripping with your cum as I finger myself in the open.” 

“Fuck fuck keep clenching me baby, I like how you hold me so tight when I’m inside your pretty pussy of yours!” His hips move deliberately; his cock wets around your velvet walls. Your hands run up to his arms to his shoulders before cupping his cheeks, “I love you.”

Wooyoung’s pace never faltered but had his head dipping to meet your lips, pulling away to look you in the eye. “I love you more and ever.” His pace soon picks up, shaking the whole car once again before lowering himself further; hand now pressing on the fogged window, printing his hand as he pulls you closer to him as he spurted his seeds inside you. His hips halted, a long groan met your ears as you felt him twitch inside you as he emptied himself inside your womb. He pulled out seeing your pussy clenching as dose after dose of his cum pumps out of your hole.

He moves to open the car door, a smirk on his lips, “Then do what you wanted, you freaky girl. Show them my cum on your pussy, make yourself a mess."

 

 You entered the cafeteria with a radiating smile and good news in hand, you saw your two friends on the table. You flop down beside Mingi, smile still radiant, “So …”

The two glance at one another before looking at you, “So?”

“I’m pregnant!” You whispered yell. Your friends eyes widen, their utensils made a loud clunk noise as they ushered you to continue, you smile, “I told him about what was on my mind that time and he voice it out too that he had seen some of his co-workers having a family even way being married so .. yeah you guys gonna be uncle soon.” 

San and Mingi cooed congratulating you before moving on to where to celebrate your pregnancy to which San leaned into your ear, “So was the car sex amazing that it got you pregnant?”

[boofeine]

— seungkwan messy hair thoughts

tags: @huen1ngk4i @aaniag @svteensworld @kooqitas @unlikelysublimekryptonite

thankfully, seungkwan had you to get him through the morning. he was especially tired and sleepy today, the man was determined to not leave his bed, but you were there to wake him up and peper sulky seungkwan until you're both on the backseat of the company carnival on the way to seungkwan's schedule today.

you got a day off and is happy to be able to make him company on his work today. but contrary to seungkwan, you are pretty much awake, and so is the pain in between your legs. if he's especially sleepy, you're especially horny today. your hand not keeping to itself while you grab his thigh on the backseat of the car. for seungkwan, that motion is nothing but sweet as he dozes off with his heavy eyes.

that's until you're too impatient, too frustrated, your hand going upper and squeezing the flesh. his eyes that were closed suddenly open fastly, and his muscles harden under your palm. but he doesn't move much, his arms still crossed over his chest, legs spread and head resting on the seat. you smile winningly but not satisfied, slidding down his inner thighs, your fingers just too close to where you want the most, greasing slightly. seungkwan's head finally leaves the headboard as he stares at you in disbelief, finally catching on your not so innocent moves.

"love, we're not alone, let's keep our hands to ourselves, shall we?" he leans to let the words out to you.

you shamelessly look up at him, smiling and nodding right before letting a quick peck to his lips "i know" you whisper, letting your hands go up to his bulge through his pants. he hisses, caging your wrists on his grip and pushing your hand off, entrelacing your fingers to make sure you won't do anything more dangerous. you look at him pouting, and he gives you back a look with his flushed shy cheeks. you behave for the rest of the ride, but the way he uncomfortably adjusts his seat don't go unnoticed by you.

once you get on your destination, seungkwan is quick to open the door and pull you out too by your hands that are still together. he runs his way with long fast steps to the nearest bathroom, closing the door and pulling you to him like he couldn't wait.

"you created a big problem, you know that?" he says, one hand on your waist, the other sliding inside your neck through your hair.

you melt under his firm yet soft way of handling you "the best part of a problem is that you got to solve it" you say, caressing his arms before gripping the side of his t-shirt.

your faces close as your noses brushes against each other's, teasing your ways, a knowing smile on your lips that are cut with his lips on yours. his one hand sliding down through your back until it joins the other one around your waist, yours coming up to meet the nap of his hair as you both make out.

he moves you over, your back meeting the cold wall as you can't help a whimper, his tongue taking the chance to meet yours. you hum, feeling his warmth and his skilled kisses. seungkwan presses his body onto yours, and you have to break the kiss to catch a breath, but he's restless, leaving soft pecks down your throat, feeling the way it bobs under his lips.

he's quick to find your mouth again, his hands sneaking up under your shirt, finding its way to your breast. the makeout session is getting too intense, you both fanning for air when you slightly unattaches to change sides, you swear the bathroom mirror is starting to fog.

seungkwan finds your boobs, taking your hard nipple on his thumb as you moan on his lips, he grins back but is cut off in seconds when you pull his hair in response, making him grunt on the kiss instead. he takes it full next, palming the flesh as you keep holding louder moans.

"i want to suck them so bad... so beautiful" he says and it sounds throaty and out of breath, and it's the hottest sound you've ever heard. he gets the words out and is already sliding his way down to your breast.

"seungkwan!" you protest, trying to keep it down. your hands on his scalp, trying to pull him up again, but he keeps groaning and fighting back. "no! we don't have time for this" you say.

"thought you wanted this" he sulks, teasingly letting a kiss over your nipples through the shirt instead, making you proper moan and finally push him out with one hard pull.

"seungkwan..." you warn as if you don't want it to get worst, even though nothing can get worse than the dump on your panties right now and the deadly sight of seungkwan with messy hair from all your gripping, his cheeks red and small eyes that look almost drunk ones, what a sight.

he just smiles at you, getting back to the kiss that, unfortunately, doesn't stay long because his phone starts to ring on his pocket. he whines, trying to leave your lips, and you whine too but from the loss. seungkwan gets it from his pockets, pressing the green button, and you can hear jeonghan almost yelling on the other side of the line where he is and for him to get there quickly. seungkwan is all over the place apologizing to his hyung and saying he's going. you try to stop him and warn about his state right now, but he just lets you a peck and leaves.

you take your time to calm yourself down and look presentable again, getting a text from seungkwan later: "didn't know i looked like that, had to tell the boys I'm tired and was napping :/"

[mattyriddlesbitch]

21 Questions

Theodore Nott x Reader

Warnings: Cheating, alludes to sex but nothing direct, cussing

Off schedule, I know, but

I wish there was a situation to be mad at

Or a person I could blame

I've got a loud mouth, I'm pale with a ghost obsession,

But behind the scenes with her I'm playing 21 Questions

There's gotta be a reason

You keep your guy in hiding

I'm becoming what I've hated

But your talk is so inviting

You were dating Harry. You really shouldn't have been as enticing to Theo as you were. You were taken.

But after sitting next to you in class one day and you were assigned to work with the person sitting next to you, he spoke with you for the first time and he was a goner. The way you spoke, your voice, your mannerisms, Merlin, he could listen to you for hours and never get bored.

So, of course, he got your number. For the class, of course. Nothing more. The texts about the assignments were purely for academic reasons. I mean, of course he knew the answers to the questions he was asking you, he was just testing you. Like a study session. Over text. With someone he was maybe developing a crush on. But that's irrelevant. It was all for school. Not to just talk to you.

And neither were his questions during class itself. Still purely academic and friendly when he joked with you in class to hear your laugh and see your smile. He just didn't wanna be a rude classroom neighbor. That's all. 

But then what?

You drop your guy and take me on,

It's everything I wanted,

But then what?

Would you get tired of my time?

My mood's dictated by our conversations,

And if you don't text I get too frustrated

I want you all to myself this time

Conflicted looks good on me

I'm trying desperately

I want you all to myself this time

He would never dream of you leaving Potter for him. He didn't dream of how your lips would feel against his, or your hands on him, or how warm and soft your skin would feel against his.

That'd be wrong of him. As much as he despises the boy, he couldn't imagine taking away his partner. Right?

And it most certainly didn't upset him when he texted you and you took a while to respond because he would be imagining you with your boyfriend. Your boyfriend that wasn't him. Your boyfriend that could hold you and kiss you and-

Oh. You responded.

I never have to

Carefully shape sentences

When I've got some words to say,

They're falling from my mouth from the time

That they hit my brain

'Cause we built a picture made for frames

We live in chemistry away from all the wasted time and taste

He managed to become your friend so easily, it could make him laugh. Your boyfriend and him hated each other, but yet, they both loved you so much. Of course, your boyfriend warned you about him and tried to get you to stop talking to him, but you shut that down quick, telling him to stop being controlling.

You asked Theo to go to Hogsmeade with you one weekend since Harry was going to be with his friends and Theo agreed eagerly. You two walked around the shops and bought things and played in the snow outside.

He couldn't ignore how cute you looked making snow angels with him and his body was moving faster than his brain. His brain only caught up once his lips connected to yours and he pulled back, mumbling apologies. But you cut him off by kissing him again.

But then what?

You dropped your guy and took me on,

It's everything I wanted,

But then what?

Would you get tired of my time?

My mood's dictated by our conversations,

And if you don't text I get too frustrated

I want you all to myself this time

Conflicted looks good on me

I'm trying desperately

I want you all to myself this time

Luckily for you two, no one saw the kiss, but you felt guilty. Especially when you were still kissing Theo when no one was looking. When his hands would roam over your body. When he laid you down in his bed and kissed every inch of skin he could get to. When you looked in the mirror the next morning and saw his marks on you under your clothes.

You broke it off with Harry. You never said why, but you're pretty sure he caught on when he saw you kissing Theo only a few days later.

Theo was over the moon to have you for himself. He was happy to get to touch you and kiss you without having to know he was sharing you with Harry.

But then he got a nagging feeling after a few weeks. If you could cheat on Harry, then you could with him. Someone else could charm you behind his back and take you away from him just like he did to Harry.

We built a picture made for frames

We live in chemistry away from all the wasted time and taste

And it sucks to sleep

'Cause you aren't talking to me

I wanna give you space

But the amount between us is wrecking me

This caused some fights with him. Your relationship was great otherwise. You liked him a lot, you were super affectionate together and could talk and joke about anything. So why was he starting problems that didn't exist?

You told him you need a break after another month of this back and forth. He agreed to it because he was mad in the moment. He hated seeing you in classes and around the castle, but he knew he'd make it worse going to you and disrespecting your space.

He missed your texts. He missed your kisses. He missed your touch. And your scent. And your laugh. He'd do anything to hear your laugh again.

But then what?

You dropped your guy and took me on,

It's everything I wanted,

But then what?

Would you get tired of my time?

'Cause then what?

You dropped your guy and took me on,

It's everything I wanted,

But then what?

Would you get tired of my time?

'Cause then what?

You dropped your guy and took me on,

It's everything I wanted,

But then what?

Am I in his position now?

'Cause then what?

You dropped your guy and took me on,

It's everything I wanted,

But then what?

Would you get tired of my time?

Even with him missing you, though, he couldn't shake that feeling away. What if you got bored of him? What if someone better comes along? What if you just cheat on him?

You did it to someone else before, you can do it again. He can't predict that.

And while he was stressing about that, you were upset at him for thinking you would do something like that to him. You weren't even thinking about other guys. You were thinking about him and how he made you happy when he wasn't doubting you.

Did you cheat on Harry for him? Yes. Does that make you feel insanely guilty? Yes. Would you ever even dream of cheating on Theo? No. He's made you happier than you felt in a long time. Happier than Harry made you feel. He made you feel appreciated and adored and loved. And you want to make sure he feels the same from you.

My mood's dictated by our conversations,

And if you don't text I get too frustrated

I want you all to myself this time

Conflicted looks good on me

I'm trying desperately

I want you all to myself this time

I'll forget you if you need me to,

Like nothing ever happened

My sun still sets without you,

Like nothing ever happened

“Can we please talk?” One simple sentence. But Theo had yet to press send on the text, wanting to give you the space you needed. Fuck it. He hated having you be mad at him and just wanted to sort this out. He finally hit send and watched for you to respond. When you didn't for a few hours, he had another ‘fuck it’ moment and went to your dorm. You opened the door and any angry feelings disappeared when he saw you. He hugged you before you had a chance to react saying a quiet ‘I miss you.’ in your hair, taking in the scent of your shampoo.

He went on a small spiel about how he's bad with emotions and he just got scared of losing you, but he understands if you're still mad and will go fuck off if you asked him to. 

You could feel his whole body relax when he heard you laugh at the last part.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff

@call-me-mishi @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @brittney-121 @leovaldezsbitch

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddleluvbot @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

@demieyesore @akira1246 @queenshu @prettypinkprincess15 @starryslytherin0

@jolly4holly @st0n3dbarbi3 @kurumbukaari @whydoireadanymore

Let me know if you wanna be added!

[corviacore]

Last Sunday I hosted a game of Eureka by @anim-ttrpgs two friends of mine, there was supposed to be 3 but one couldnt make it, oh well you all know how it is with scheduling, it still played quite well with two people though, this system is actually really good for smaller groups from my experience with it so far.

We were playing horror Harry's haunted house, a premade module that comes with the free download of Eureka from ANIMs itch.io site! Check it out if you haven't yet and support them if you like Eureka!

Both of these friends of mine were new to the system and I had only narrated a single session of Foriva the Angel game before so I was breaking new ground as well and we were struggling a bit to RP while learning a new system, still a lot of fun though and honestly I think Eureka is pretty easy to get into, dont let the large pagecount on the rulebook dissuade you, its simply not done yet and gas some editing left to be done on it.

I don't wanna spoil too much, but the players had a lot of fun giggling about their own characters stubbornness and resulting consequences such as tumbling off a small balcony and bumping their butts.

In the end my players told me they really liked it and would be willing to play some more and while they did NOT correctly solve the mystery of horror Harry's haunted house they had a lot of fun with it! I also found it mostly smooth and pretty easy to run and I think I managed well enough. My players enjoyed that they felt more like theyre driving the game then in DND where it's often hacking and slashing or freeform rping until the DM puts the next thing in front of you (our personal experience) and they enjoyed the partial successes as well, they even made use of their Eureka towards the end wich they managed to scrape together enough points for and that helped them get to a conclusion, even if it was the wrong one xP

All in all a successful session and I think Horror Harry's haunted house is a EXCELLENT introduction into the game ,with low stakes it showcases allmost all major mechanics (except combat) and is easily finished within a single session if about 4-5 hours, take it as a sort of tutorial for both narrator and players and you will have a decent idea of how this game plays amd what to expect from it!

[6lostgirl6]

Can you do a request for me with Hannibal x Fem Reader where she starts seeing him as a patient and you reveal to him that you have kinda gray morals when it comes to murder and stuff like that and over the course of about 6 months or so you two start falling for each other but he tries to keep it professional until he can’t anymore and fires you as a patient which upsets you until he tells you why he did it (which was so he could date you)

Unexpected Romance

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Fem!Reader

TW: slight meltdown, hints of murderous thoughts, dependence, slight angst, arguing, fighting, happy ending

You sighed, walking out of the building that once held your third psychiatrist of the month, clutching onto the white paper labeled 'referral.' It felt like a slap in the face, sitting in a comfortable office chair and spilling your deepest secrets to someone you barely knew, only for them to refer you to someone else.

'I don't know how else to help you.'

They would question you, offering you a false sense of security, yet when their prescribed medications and deeply-rooted questions did nothing, they simply lost hope in rekindling your sense of morality.

You were...beyond saving...

You slammed your car door shut, flinging the piece of paper onto your passenger seat where it lay abandoned, seemingly mocking you that it would add to your collection of your previous referrals, prescriptions, and office information. You sniffled, staring at the leather of your steering wheel. The next second, you were screaming, crying, and slamming your fist against the steering wheel as if it insulted you.

"Fuck!" You yelled, clutching your sore knuckles, staring at the bruises that were already starting to form from the force of your rage. "Fuck..."

You sniffled, staring into your rearview mirror, hastily wiping away the tears that were streaming down your face, eyes bloodshot and nose threatening to plug up from your excessive crying. You tried calming down, taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. Your first psychiatrist taught you about breathing exercises.

Yet, those techniques didn't stop you from the plague that invades your subconscious. The images of your family murdered, blood staining every crevice...

You shook your head before glancing over at the piece of paper, sighing to yourself as you reached over, picking it up. The name of your new therapist stared back at you, promising you of more false promises and hurt.

Dr. Lecter.

A few weeks later, you were sitting in the waiting room waiting for your first session. Well, first session with your new therapist. You were picking your nails as you watched the clock, dreading the unavoidable. The minutes were ticking by, seemingly mocking you of your adversity.

You were anxious all morning, pacing in your room, dressed and prepared only a few hours ahead of schedule. The drive was hellish, thoughts of canceling the appointment, suffering a fee and turning back haunted you. Now, you were in the waiting room with a racing heart, the pattering of the raindrops outside distracting you.

'I am beyond help...'

"Miss (L/N)?" A deep-toned voice asked.

Your head snapped, mind clearing as you faced the person that had called your name. Standing by the door, keeping it open with a charming yet polite smile upon his face, was your new and fourth psychiatrist.

Dr. Lecter

"Sorry, yeah, that's me." You said, standing from your seat but keeping your distance, you simply didn't want to barge into his office. You gave him a small smile, still feeling uncomfortable with the beginning of your session. "It's very nice to meet you, Dr. Lecter."

"Likewise." He replied, stepping to the side with the door still opened for you. "Shall we begin with our session for today?"

"Of course." You walked past him, nodding in thanks before stepping into his office, maintaining from letting out a gasp of surprise over the vastness of his office. If you hadn't known this was his office, you would have guessed it was. The room screamed elegance and filled with decor one would see in an art museum.

"You have a lovely office." You complimented, looking around the room as Dr. Lecter closed the door and walked over to his desk, picking up some papers.

"Thank you, I quite enjoy displaying decorum through interior decorating." He replied, almost in a teasing way. "I apologize that you've been waiting a few weeks before we could start. Your psychiatrist had to send your information over from previous sessions."

"I wish it were longer, actually." You stated halfheartedly, finally taking a seat when he gestured silently towards one of his many available chairs nearby, nodding in thanks.

"Not very fond of sessions are you, miss (L/N)?" He asked, glancing your way as he shuffled through some of your paperwork, most likely your old medications and lack of diagnoses.

"I'm not particularly fond of wasting my time talking about my issues until the person trying to help me figures out I'm just incurable." You refused to return his gaze, fiddling with your nails. "They can't figure out what's wrong with me."

"There is no such thing as being incurable, there's only being overlooked."

"How do you figure?" You asked in confusion, looking up to watch him place down the papers and take a seat across from you. You didn't like the way he refused to look away from you, it made you...fuzzy.

"I believe your experience with your previous psychiatrists are, in better terms, unfit to handle someone like you." He paused for a moment, "You need someone that is able to understand you, discover your innermost self and I'm simply a better fit."

You felt your cheeks warm slightly, glancing away and unable to understand that fuzzy feeling you were feeling in your chest. "You make it seem so undemanding." You only glanced back when he called your name.

"You, my dear, are not incurable."

You were speechless, you didn't know what else to say. Something that would make him deter him away, but nothing could cross your mind before he continued.

"You are not beyond saving."

You stared at him for a while, the words sinking into your mind and chasing away some of the doubt that has haunted you for a majority of your life. You decided, against your judgement and the aching of your heart at the risk of more pain, you would give him a chance.

You nodded, which prompted him to give you a polite smile.

Time to restart the process.

At first, it was morbid curiosity.

When Hannibal was notified that he was being referred to a fellow colleague's previous patient, he was curious, very curious. He wanted to know the reason a respected psychiatrist, with an incredible track record, couldn't help a patient for once.

Therefore, he decided he would see the person behind his fellow colleague practically being close to ripping their hair out in stress. However, he was genuinely surprised when he opened his office door and saw you sitting in the waiting room. Your timid form playing with your nails with your gaze laser-focused on the clock that you didn't even react when he stood in your presence. Yet, you were oddly polite and if Hannibal didn't read your paperwork, he would have assumed you were an ordinary girl with her own issues.

However, you were...different.

He couldn't place his finger on what it was, but you weren't like anyone else he had seen step into his office. Your profile made it seem like you were a delinquent waiting to happen. However, you were polite, respectful, and had a deep passion for the arts similar to himself. He's never met an individual who shared a multitude of common interests with him. Perhaps, he underestimated you. He certainly wasn't prepared by how pretty you were and how close you two would become and he wouldn't forget your first session. When he had the opportunity to dig deep within your center and rip out your deepest secrets about yourself, in his own space.

Your gaze was focused on the window, watching the water droplets from the rain slide down the glass, the sleeves of your sweater hiding your delicate fingers. Those slim fingers that he couldn't stop staring at. You seemed so helpless, desperate for validation for the things you were going through, and he wanted to know the root of the problem.

Perhaps then, his curiosity would dissipate and he would have an easier time letting someone like you go.

"You must tell me what you're feeling if I am to help you, Miss (L/N)." He spoke softly, crossing his fingers and catching your gaze as you turned away from the window to return your attention with him.

“I feel…” You muttered with a pause, before turning your attention to the man across from you, “like I’m a danger to myself and others because of the things I think about.”

“And what do you feel?”  He asked, voice subconsciously matching your own.

“I think about hurting people, people that I used to care about. Seeing their faces twist in pain as their life drains from their eyes.”

“How does it make you feel? Those thoughts that haunt you, you mentioned that they plague you. Is it because you’re ashamed of them?” He mentally cursed himself, allowing his growing curiosity and obsession to take hold in order to discover you.

“They do haunt me but…it’s not because I’m ashamed of them.” You avoided the intensity of his stare, staring at the loose fabric of your sweater. “I’m ashamed of them because I like the thoughts.”

He swore he felt his heart skip a beat.

It has been six months since you've become his patient and Hannibal was plagued with conflicted feelings. Over the course of six months, Hannibal began to notice the ever growing affection he held for you. The soft moments between you during the break between sessions where you both would discuss your various common interests of art, music, and food.

He never thought he would find an individual so interesting, articulate, and extremely beautiful. He could still remember your lovely smile when he presented you with one of your favorite books he happened to have in his many collections of literature. He knew that he had fallen in love with you. Something he never quite expected to happen in his entire lifetime.

However, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Not when he was still continuing to be your psychiatrist.

A few days after your last session, he turned in his referral for your new psychiatrist and he prayed that you would allow him to reason with you when you find out what he has done in order to be with you properly. From your previous sessions, he knew of the abandonment you’ve feared, however, he didn’t want you feeling like he gave up on you.  

He was sitting at his desk, checking his watch as he waited for your arrival. His mind was repeatedly going through the possibilities of your reaction. Your consistent timing insisted that you would arrive any minute. He decided with a heavy sigh, that he would check the waiting room and hoped that you would accept his feelings.

You smiled to yourself, sitting in your usual spot in the corner of the waiting room. You arrived a few minutes early, yet it allowed you to have some time for yourself before you continued your session with Dr. Lecter. 

Despite the happiness you felt, you still felt a little nervous. For the past few weeks, you have realized something about yourself that you didn’t think would possibly ever happen. The fuzzy feeling that continued to tickle your mind all those months was the blossoming feeling of love. 

It left you scared, scared of the possibility of what it could do to affect the professional relationship between doctor and patient. The possibility of Dr. Lecter discovering your feelings and refusing to continue helping you. All due to the disgust of having someone like you fall for someone like him. It left you feeling defeated already, yet you will allow yourself to continue to be around him. To be around him and never letting your feelings show. 

The sound of the door opening made you stand, giving Dr. Lecter a smile which he gladly returned with a soft greeting. However, something in his face made you hesitate in replying. He seemed to have something bothering him and your heart skipped a beat. 

This couldn’t be what you think it is…

Pushing the thought from your mind, you quickly returned the greeting. 

“Afternoon, Dr. Lecter.” You said, stepping forward when he moved to the side to allow you to walk past him and into his office. “Something troubling you?”

The suit-clad man quietly closed the door, walking past you to stand near his desk, he leaned against the wood, hands perched on the surface. “We have something to discuss.” He finally said, gesturing to the recliner. 

“I think I can manage just fine standing.” You retorted, voice full of ice as your eyes hardened slightly. Your body tensed as you continued standing your ground, crossing your arms. “What’s the issue?” you asked, desperately trying to keep the hurt from your voice. 

“Please, allow me to explain myself, I do not wish for you to assume-”

“I think I’m assuming correctly, right? Just go ahead and tell me what you’re thinking.”

He sighed, glancing away, presumably gathering his thoughts. 

“I believe it is best if I am no longer your psychiatrist-” 

Crash.

Hannibal ducked when something was sent flying towards his head, resulting in a loud crash as the object practically combusted against the wall. In instinct, he was quick to cover his face with his forearm, protecting himself from getting hit directly. He was shocked for a moment, processing what occurred before hearing you rush towards him.

“How could you?!” You yelled, trying to hit him with raised fists, becoming more annoyed when your old physiatrist kept blocking your feasible attacks. “You said you wouldn’t give up on me! You fucking liar!” 

“I’ve never lied to you! Let me explain!” You couldn’t bother to see his reaction, his face expressing a mix of emotions of shock and desire. He never witnessed you become so angry before, especially at him. He found his fascination for you grew even more. “You’re only making things worse.”

“I don’t care, asshole!” You screamed, pushing him which didn’t even move him an inch as he stared down at you, gripping your forearms as you started crying. “Why are you getting rid of me!”

“You stupid girl!” Suddenly, you were pinned against the wall, gasping in shock at the warmth of Hannibal’s chest pressed against your own, your wrists pinned on each side of your head. “I only did it to be closer to you!”

“What…?” You were breathless, staring into his eyes that were full of darkness and something else you couldn’t recognize. His warm breath hitting the side of your face from his close proximity. “Then, why would you?”

Instead of answering, Hannibal simply leaned down and kissed you, warm lips pressed against your own, which quickly turned passionate. Eagerly, you returned the kiss, pressing closer to him as Hannibal let go of one of your wrists to grip the back of your head, fingers tangling into your hair. 

After a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, he slowly pulled away, gazing down at you while you tried catching your breath. 

“I’m in love with you, (Y/N).” He stated, fingers pulling away from your hair to instead delicately graze the soft skin of your cheek. “I cannot court you properly if I remain your psychiatrist.”

“Dr. Lecter, I-” Your eyes watered, ashamed of your previous behavior. 

“Hannibal, darling.” He muttered softly, stroking your cheek as he pressed his forehead against your own. “I accept you as you are and I want you to be mine, always. Will you consider that?” 

You smiled softly, sniffling as you nodded, resulting in Hannibal pulling you into a tight embrace which you gladly returned. “You already have me.” You replied. 

Spam Liking = Blocked

Taglist: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed

[clickoly]

O'Knutzy Week - Day 1

I saw the prompt Racing on the bingo card and I couldn't resist. 

Me? Watching twenty cars go vroom vroom in a circle for sixty laps every other weekend? Absolutely not. 

Here's the first of five parts of Starboys, a Cubs Formula One AU! 

(Leo will arrive in style, fashionably late, tomorrow)

Characters belong to the amazing @lumosinlove. A big thank you to @oknutzy-week-2024 for organizing the fest. 

A5: We lost

Link to Ao3 here

Monza, Italy

National Automobile Racetrack

The late August heat radiating from the pit lane was anything but a pleasant welcome. Sliding his sunglasses into messy hair, slightly sweaty from a short walk under the scorching sun, Logan took a quick look around. 

The Silver garage was uncharacteristically quiet, with only a few mechanics loading tires onto trailers, probably setting them up for tomorrow's free practice sessions.

The weekend hadn't even started yet, and Logan already wished it were over. He ached to wash away the feeling of too many sleepless nights off his body, to get rid of the latent headache that had been haunting him for days—ever since he'd boarded that flight from Amsterdam alone. 

What would happen if he refused to show up? Would they fire him? He actually considered hiding for a second, just as the back door to the offices opened. 

"Logan?" 

The unmistakable sound of Celeste's voice made him turn around. 

"Oui, maman?"

"Don't maman me, Tremblay," she stepped closer. "You're late." 

"I know," Logan risked an innocent grin. "Please tell me why I have to do this."

The threatening look he earned was more eloquent than any real answer. "Okay, okay," he held his hands up in a sign of truce. "Who's at the press conference?" 

Celeste had a habit of memorizing every single detail of his schedule. "Olli, Thomas, Jackson and Finn," she recited. "Do I have to remind you to behave?" 

"You know I hate those fucking-"

"Language," Celeste playfully pressed a finger to his chest, then tilted her head toward the door. "Go charm everyone with that sweet face of yours."

"Yeah," Logan huffed. "If anyone so much as breathes a word about last week, I swear to God–"

"You will kindly remind them it was a misunderstanding." 

"Mais non," he tried to reason. Had it been a misunderstanding?

"Logan, they want to throw gasoline on this already raging fire. We won't let them." 

"Fine," he gave up. There was no point in arguing with her. "But he better be on the same page." 

Celeste Dumais wasn't just any manager. She was a friend, a steady presence at Logan's side. And she also happened to be the scariest human being he'd ever met in his life. At least when she wanted to be.

"Go," she insisted. The bossy yet extremely loving tone came out, capable of commanding an army and taking care of a wild household at once. "Behave, and be ready for dinner at six. Pascal is taking us to his favorite restaurant in town, and Katie wants to show you she's learned to eat spaghetti."

"All by herself?"

"And with a fork. Can you believe that?" 

Logan's smile was genuine. "Merci, maman."

Down the hall in the Media Center, Logan could hear the loud chatter of people. He checked his watch and realized that they were probably waiting for him to start the conference. 

Media day, real fun. 

The same old faces welcomed him as he sat down at the end of a long red couch, right next to Thomas Walker, Racing Bull's first seat. 

"Care to join the party?" Thomas whispered, muffling his words from the cameras. 

"I'd rather not," Logan crossed his arms and leaned against the backrest. "But apparently I have no choice." 

Thomas tried to stifle a laugh as the journalist spoke into his microphone, drawing everyone's attention. 

"Welcome everybody to the drivers' press conference ahead of the FIA Formula One Italian Grand Prix," he said to the cameras. Years of interviews and conversations with this man, and still Logan found it tricky to understand his thick Scottish accent. "Here are our five drivers joining us today. Closest to me is the home hero for this weekend, Finn O'Hara."

Finn actually smiled for the audience and politely returned the greeting with a grateful nod. 

"Then we have Olli Halla, Jackson Nadeau, Thomas Walker and Logan Tremblay. Welcome to you all."  

Every other Thursday afternoon on race weekends, when his teammate James wasn't on call, Logan was forced to sit through the same boring go-to questions—usually asked by the same three people. What can you tell us about last week's results? What are your expectations for this weekend? And each time, he tried his best to hide his discomfort behind safely prepared answers, carefully tailored to avoid any kind of drama—the very thing reporters were always looking for.

"Why don't we start with you, Finn?" The man, Tom, asked. "How does it feel, as an American, to be able to race again in red in front of the Italian crowd?"

"Oh, man," Finn laughed, and the rapid clicking of camera shutters instantly filled the room.

Fucker.

"This is incredible," he went on. "Every year it feels like coming home. The fans are amazing, and their support means everything to me and, of course, to the team."

Not only was Finn an elite driver, but he also had an innate talent for winning people's hearts with the silliest of comments. Finn O'Hara was pure charm, and Logan hated to admit it, but he had always been a little jealous of his natural way with people—reporters, journalists, fans. Finn acted like he was born to be in the spotlight and, most importantly, on the top step of the podium. It came as no surprise to Logan when Finn received a multi-year contract offer from the most prestigious racing team in the world, the one people could name without thinking twice when asked about Formula One.

Ask a child to draw a car, and they will certainly draw it red—the same crimson as the Scuderia's vibrant and historic livery, the flagship of Made in Italy. 

"Let's move on to Logan," Tom said eventually, his voice as calm and punctuated as usual. "Shall we go back to last weekend? I believe it was a tough one for you, but you still managed to finish the race." 

Logan took his time answering. He grabbed the mic, untangled the long cable twisted at his feet, and slowly pulled it to his mouth, white knuckles clutching the metal casing. "It was," he said coldly. His free hand reached for his hair, feeling exposed by the absence of his snapback. "But there's not much to add, to be honest. As I said in the post-race interview, I got damaged by the contact and the car lost a little performance in terms of aerodynamics," he explained calmly. 

"The safety car he..." Logan trailed off. "The safety car helped. The mechanics did a mega job during the pit stop and fixed the problem enough to let me cross the finish line."

But I still don't know why it happened.

"It was absolutely a fantastic team effort," agreed Tom. "What about your predictions for this Sunday?" 

Logan's lips twitched on autopilot into a cocky smile. "Oh, I can totally see a win." 

"Best of luck to you," the man smiled back. "Now I think we have time to take questions from the print media."

Logan tensed. This was the tough part, when sports journalists went on a merciless gossip hunt, looking for the best headline for their next article. And once again, Logan found himself in their crosshairs. 

It didn't take long for Tom to give the floor to the most annoying of them all.

"Peter Jones, ESPN F1," the man said as he switched on the microphone. "Finn, the DNF at Zandvoort cost you important points in the battle for the championship," he paused. His greedy eyes flicked not so casually between Finn and Logan. "What are the consequences in the close fight between you and the current leader?" 

A subtle question, because Logan knew exactly where this was going. He couldn't help but turn to look at Finn, who sat up straighter on the couch and inadvertently moved a hand to rub the back of his neck—as he always did when he was nervous. 

"Like you said," he cleared his throat, "it's still a tight fight. I made a mistake and I apologized, because..." Logan heard the hesitation in his voice, a faint tremor. "We both lost something last week. The race, good points..." Finn's eyes went blurry for a fleeting moment. "But I have to focus more on the future if I want to close the gap between us. And that's still my goal, so I'd say nothing has really changed". 

"So everything's okay between the two of you?"

Logan had watched the footage in his hotel room. He remembered storming out of his box. He had wanted to talk, to understand. And they just ended up yelling at each other in the middle of the paddock. Fifteen minutes later, the pictures were all over the Internet. 

Sparks flying on and off the track. Tempers flare as Tremblay and O'Hara clash after today's collision, the official F1 account had captioned the post on Instagram. 

"Of course," Finn nodded, a half smile on his lips, uncertain. "Yeah, good rivals and all." 

Rivals. That's what they were these days. Faces of the rivalry between two legendary, antagonistic teams. Names in capital letters on magazine titles and website headlines. 

One against the other.

As soon as they were dismissed, Logan bolted out of the room. It was four in the afternoon, and he still had to find a way to get out of the circuit unnoticed.

Logan wasn't being hostile. He loved his job and the life that came with it—or almost all of it. Even if it meant exposing himself more than he actually liked. 

Just not today, not now, not when the constant pounding in his head kept his focus far away, trapped in a conversation he wished had turned out differently. 

He was close to the exit door when he heard footsteps running after him. 

"Logan, wait." 

"Not in the mood," he said without looking back.

"Lo." a warm hand cupped his shoulder. "Please." 

They hadn't talked in almost a week, a first for them. Finn had texted, but Logan had needed time to figure out why he was so upset. In the back of his mind, Logan replayed the scene for the thousandth time.

Lap fifty, one hour and forty minutes into the race. Logan was leading the Dutch Grand Prix, going through Sector 2 with a 0.286-second lead over Finn, who had his DRS open. At the entrance to Turn 11, they were neck-to-neck, fighting for the apex.

The contact between the two cars happened out of the blue. It felt like a punch in the gut. 

Logan had watched the tape over and over, looking for a valid justification, an explanation. There had been plenty of room for both cars, and yet Finn had pushed him off the track, damaging Logan's front wing and knocking himself out of the race.

"You lied," Logan said firmly, still with his back to Finn. 

"What?"

"You said you apologized. But you didn't."

Finn let out a heavy breath, a hint of disbelief in it. He stepped in front of him, tall and broad as he was, brown eyes unbearably sad. 

"You think I did it on purpose?" he asked, his voice shaking with emotion. 

Logan held Finn's gaze. He felt all the tension in his body release at the sight of the hurt on his face. "Finn, I could never. Merde, I just... I don't understand why you snapped at me like that." 

You know what, Logan? Fuck you too. I don't have to explain anything to anyone. Just leave me alone.  

"I didn't mean to," Finn ducked his head, shying away from him. "I was tired of people asking me what happened and..." he shrugged helplessly. "You were so angry and I was furious because I'm an asshole and that was a fucking rookie mistake." Finn finally looked back at him, "I'm so sorry, Lo. I should have told you right away. I'm sorry." 

We both lost something last week. Something.

Logan closed his eyes.

Competitiveness was rooted in his DNA. He'd been racing for as long as he could remember, and he knew he would become a professional driver from the moment he sat in a kart for the first time at the tender age of five. The son of Marius Tremblay, a legend of the sport, following in his father's footsteps. 

He'd come a long way, with ups and downs, blissful achievements, countless defeats and steady improvement. And yet he'd found his way to this, to be a two-time world champion at the pinnacle of motorsport. To compete for a third title against Finn, the best friend he could've ever asked for. The only thing he hadn't expected to find on this competitive journey, and yet the most precious.

Logan had lost a race. That was it, a mistake. He certainly wasn't going to make the one to let Finn go. He could barely stand the idea of fighting with him. 

Still, he kept his face straight. He would never have given in that easily. "Listen," he said seriously, fighting the urge to hold Finn as he grew even paler, the freckles on his nose and cheekbones a stark contrast to his milky skin. "If you're not taking me out for a drink tonight, we're done."

A sparkle lit up those helplessly kind, soothing eyes. "We're not supposed to drink alcohol, Tremblay," Finn smiled shyly. 

"D'accord," Logan rolled his eyes and bit back a smile of his own. "Alcohol free it is."

[crepesuzette2023]

What We Need Is A Schedule

After the fun and games of one year ago, John and Paul are no longer fooling around. Lennon & McCartney talk about their job, songwriting. from THE BEATLES BOOK MONTHLY, No. 33, June 1966

JOHN: Now that Paul's back from his holidays, we're getting ready to do quite a bit of recording. We have to get two songs for a new single in the next couple of weeks and we've got to start work on another LP album. That means we want nearly twenty new numbers- allowing for a couple of spare ones in case something doesn't really work out when we get in the studio.

PAUL: I think song-writing is like any other kind of writing. You tend to put it off until somebody tells you it has to be finished by a particular date.

JOHN: When we're on our own and we think of an idea for a song, the main thing is to get it down so that it isn't forgotten. Words you can write on bits of paper but it's not that easy with a tune. We've found the best way of all is to use a tape recorder.

PAUL: With a tape you can put on the voice and add bits of guitar and things later when you get a good idea in your mind for a guitar phrase or an introduction.

JOHN: And it doesn't really matter if you haven't got all the lyrics worked out. You can just hum or go "la-la-la-la" for the bits you haven't written yet.

PAUL: Then John and I get together and play over the tapes we've made.

JOHN: Paul's much more of an expert about recording his songs. Some of his tapes are fantastic--they're dubbed and everything so that you get the full group sound--not like mine which are just my own voice and one guitar.

PAUL: Just like any other kind of writing, it's impossible to walk about doing other things and suddenly say to yourself "Ah, l've got a song coming on. Here it comes now" and rush to your tape recorder.

JOHN: I dunno. Sometimes you can start off a new song like that. It depends.

PAUL: We've been talking about this and we've decided we ought to force ourselves to arrange days for songwriting together in advance.

JOHN: It's too easy to put it off if we just meet without any plan and say "Shall we write something today?". If you do that you feel as though you're losing a free day. What we're going to do is make dates beforehand and sort of say "Right Wednesday and Friday of this week are for songwriting. And Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday of next week". Then we'll know it's something we've to keep to.

PAUL: We'll try to fix times and keep to them. Get into a room with guitars and a piano and a tape recorder and work things out.

JOHN: I said at the start we would need twenty new numbers. Actually, both of us have some half-started stuff which needs finishing. Some of Paul's tapes are almost complete too. We'll probably get five or six songs out of these and then begin thinking up new ones.

PAUL: One of the only real differences between the way we prepare for recording sessions now and the way we did it years ago is that we know more about recording techniques.

JOHN: Earlier on we'd go into the studio and George Martin would say after he'd heard something "Well, that's going to be O.K. but why don't you try putting a so-and-so in there." And he'd suggest an organ sound or double-tracking on something. Now we know just how much can be done in the studio we can think up new sounds and different instruments to use before a session.

PAUL: Means we should get more done at a session.

JOHN: Ah, I've got a song coming on. Here it comes now!

PAUL: Right! Let's get back to work.

Photos accompanying the taped "interview" (J & P talking to tape recorder)

[whorekneecentral]

Prompt 22 “don’t cum yet” & prompt 25 “dont be gentle” with hubbie (yours, hes yours anj) sergio ramos

Reader and sergio have only had sex once (she lost her virginity to him, innocence kink to the max) and for the second time hes trying to be gentle, she tells him not to. He edges her (A LOT) (yes im a sucker for edging sue me)

And her just crying and whimpering and the sweet sweet sweet aftercare

- vvd anon

SCREAMMMMM - takes place during his real madrid days cause that era of sergio >>> // prompts: “don’t cum yet” + “dont be gentle”

The two of you had been together for a while but between Sergio's insane game schedule, training sessions and your work, you two barely saw each other. It wasn't until recently that you actually slept together in that sense.

The game had gone horrible; El Classico. They went into it with the hopes of winning but something went wrong. You hadn't caught the whole game but from what you saw, it was a disaster.

Sergio came home pissed, understandably so and he was keeping his distance from you.

"Serg," you called, walking into the living room. Your boyfriend looked over at you, a small smile on his face as he patted the spot next to him. You sat, your hand on his thigh, "you okay?"

"No," he admitted rather quickly. "I can't begin to figure out what went wrong."

"Some things are better left unknown ?" "No," he shook his head at your words, "we have to know, we have to fix it."

Your hand rubbed along his bare thigh, his shorts hitched up when he sat down; something about this man and not being able to wear shorts properly.

You leant over, a hand on his jaw when you kissed him. Your boyfriend welcomed your touch, moving you to sit on his lap for the time being. You knew he was upset, you knew he needed to let go of his anger, take it out on something, on someone.

You didn't mind being the one.

Sergio's hands were gentle, softly wandering over your body; had you not been on his lap, you probably wouldn't have noticed at all. You pull away from the kiss, meeting a confused look from him. "Don't be gentle," you tell him and you can see the surprise on his face.

"But-" "No, please." You whisper, your lips back on his.

He pulls you to lay on the couch, he’s sat between your legs with one on either side of him. You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him and Sergio drags his fingers up your thigh, moving to your clothed pussy.

He pulls the panties to the side, his eyes fixed on your pussy. He gives you no warning, pushing his fingers into you. The sound leaving your mouth was like heaven on earth to him. 

Sergio's fingers curl upwards, your back arching at the feeling. Your face twists, pleasure all across it and our hands stop wiggling, Sergio smiles, satisfied. 

"Don't cum yet," he pressed a kiss to your thigh, he can feel it; he knows you’re close, you’re squeezing on his fingers, your thighs trying to close, trying to squirm away from the pleasure. 

So he stops. 

You sit up a bit, looking at your boyfriend confused. Your brows furrow, a slight pout on your lips, “Sergio,” you whine. “Why’d you stop?” 

He shrugs, “felt like it.” His fingers in his mouth, one by one, sucking them clean. 

[themagicfolf]

Hope in trying times

To all the US Tumnlerites and those struggling in generalI just wanted to let you all know, things are going to be tough, but they will be ok, I'm a pretty pessimistic person but I believe that.

If we stick together as a community we can and will make it

Setbacks happen, sometimes those setbacks are far bigger than others

But those set backs aren't the end. Not unless we allow them to be.

We can and should rest, and if needed, retreat, but we can never give up, never stop fighting for a better future, for our selves, for our friends, for our families, and for those like us.

Right now we can rest, we can cry, we can be afraid, but we shouldn't let it consume us. We can't lose ourselves.

Things will be ok, fight on, and look forward

Know that some of our Governors plan on protecting us to

For example. Look at J.B Pritzker

The governor of Illinois came out in support of Queer, immigrant, and PoC Illinois resident, and abortion rights in Illinois after he found out about the Election of Trump and loss of the senate stating in a press a urgent public notice:

"This morning, our mostvulnerable communities woke up to new uncertaintyabout their future, scared that their rights will nglonger be protected, and unsure whether this natiorstill stands with them. To women whose healthcare isunder even greater threat, to our Black, Brown and AAPIcommunities, our LGBTQ friends and their familiesmmigrants and first-generation Americans our mosfvulnerable Americans and those with disabilities, to allwho have been made to feel unsafe and unwelcomeby the Trump campaign and its allies know that llinoisis your ally. You will always be welcome here"

1

And later on Twitter, and at a press release

"To anyone who intends to come take away the freedom, opportunity, and dignity of Illinoisans, I would remind you that a happy warrior is still a warrior.You come for my people – you come through me."

2

But it isn't just Pritzker Standing up for marginalized Americans,

The Californian Governor Gavin Newsome of all people scheduled an emergency legislative session of the states courts to set up more protections for California's queer residents, environmental protections, and abortion rights.

3

And with Tim Walz still being the Governor of Minesota

That means there is yet another state protected from trumps plans, I say this because Tim Walz has already done a lot as governor and has stated that he will fight along side us for the rights we deserve

4

Many more will most likely follow suite to protect their citizens. But only time will tell.

So for now sit tight, rest as much as you can and try to enjoy the next 2 months, I encourage you to prepare by stocking up on medication, HRT if you take it, and birth control, condoms, and abortion Pills no matter who you are, distribute what you don't need to others who do need them.

Sources Below

J.B Pritzkers emergency statement

2. Pritzkers Tweets

3. Gavin Newsom legislative session

4. Tim Walz Tweet

Resources

[indndwnshead]

Part V: ...lovers

Pairing: Min Yoongi x (f) Reader

Genre/tags: Actors AU, Somewhat Canon Compliant, Stranger to Friends to Lovers, Slow(ish) Burn

Series summary:

It wasn't during your first encounter, nor the second or third. You've lost count of how many times your paths crossed before you truly got to know him. He was a rare soul, hiding his kindness and true emotions, revealing them only through his actions

In this (maybe low-key soulmate AU) story, follow Actress!Reader and Idol!Min Yoongi as their chance encounters gradually blossom into a deep and lasting connection. This is a slowish-burn journey from strangers to friends to lovers, as they bond over shared passions and kindness.

Warning: Some cursing. So fluffy you'd want to kick your feet around. Soft Yoongi.

A/N: Please see end os story notes :)) Let's be friends and stan Yoongi together on twitter @itsdndwn 💜💜

---

Masterlist. Previous Chapter. Next Chapter.

Also read on: AO3

---

2026

Since that night in your apartment, you and Yoongi have been texting back and forth again, solidifying your established connection. Yet, amid this closeness, you couldn't help but grapple with the confusion of your feelings. You enjoyed your interactions with him, but a nagging fear lingered at the back of your mind—that perhaps Yoongi was just caught up in the situation, still playing the role of Minho to your Minseo. You worried that one day he might realize he could stop pretending and leave you behind.

Months after the episodes aired, you both continued to receive comments from fans asking for a continuation of their story. The photo shoot and interview sessions that you and Yoongi did only fueled the fire even more, your undeniable chemistry was once again evident to the public. 

One day, as you hung out in your apartment, another newfound routine you had established with Yoongi, you broached the topic. The two of you were sitting comfortably on your couch, each momentarily preoccupied with something else but still enjoying each other's company, a welcome break from your busy schedules.

Your agent sent a message, reminding you to give your decision about the production company's offer to proceed with the sequel of that drama. You had presumed some time ago that your manager might have some superpower, and she proved it once again with the timing of the text as if she knew you were hanging out with Yoongi on that unsuspecting Thursday night.

You sighed, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you. "You know, Yoongi, the production company is nagging me about a possible sequel for Minseo and Minho," you said, your voice tinged with both annoyance and uncertainty.

Yoongi leaned back against the sofa, deep in thought, pausing from his tinkering on the laptop he had brought with him. He had claimed that working in your company boosted his productivity, and you tried hard to suppress the butterflies threatening to burst from your stomach ever since.

"I've heard about it too, and I can understand why they'd want more," he said, his voice measured.

The unspoken "but" hung in the air, a shared hesitation between you both.

You continued, "This might come as a surprise, but I don't think we should do it. To me, Minseo and Minho's story isn't meant to be explored further. There's beauty in letting the audience imagine what's next for those two."

Yoongi nodded thoughtfully. "Sometimes, leaving things to the imagination can be more powerful."

"Besides, our schedules are going to be crazy this year. You're busy preparing for the group's comeback, and I have other projects lined up as well." You shot him a warm smile, your eyes filled with understanding. "And ultimately, I know it's not something you truly want to do."

Yoongi sent you a grateful smile and decided to open up a bit more. "Honestly, I've got so much on my plate with the group's comeback. And, well, I've been working on some solo stuff too.”

Your curiosity got the best of you as you prodded further, "Solo stuff? That sounds exciting. Are you planning something big?"

He nodded, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "Yeah, I thought it was about time to work on new songs and concepts."

"Is Agust D making a comeback too then?" you asked hopefully, your admiration for his solo work no longer a well-kept secret.

Yoongi chuckled softly, surprised by your enthusiastic response. "Why? Have you heard of him?"

"Heard of him? Yoongi!" you exclaimed, your frustration mixed with embarrassment. "I'll have you know that I was at your final show!" you quickly added.

Yoongi's eyebrow raised in surprise. "Really? Are you a fan, then?"

Your cheeks turned a shade of red as you struggled to find the right words. "I, uh... I mean, I've enjoyed your music, okay?" You buried your head in one of your throw pillows, feeling like a teenager admitting her feelings to a crush.

He chuckled, a warm and amused sound that filled the room. "Hey! In all the time we've known each other, I haven't heard you mention this. At all."

Peeking out from behind the pillow, your cheeks still flushed, you admitted, "Well, it's not something I go around telling everyone, you know? Besides, you never asked!"

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, his mischievous eyes locked onto yours. "So tell me, which song do you like best?"

"One song?" You whimpered, feeling a touch overwhelmed. Your brain quickly reviewed your choices, from his first mixtape to his solo album. "You can't ask me to pick just one favourite!"

He grinned, clearly enjoying your dilemma. "Come on, it can't be that hard. Just one."

You pretended to ponder for a moment, although your heart had already made the decision. "Alright, if I really have to choose one, then... " With a heavy heart, you finally revealed your pick, feeling guilty about slighting his other songs by only choosing one.

His grin widened, satisfied with your choice and your dramatic expression. "Good taste," he teased, making you blush even more.

---

As you sat in your script reading session for your upcoming shoot, news broke from a notorious media outlet. The headline screamed, "Suga Spotted Leaving Restaurant with Mystery Woman." Your heart sank, and a wave of sadness washed over you. You quickly put your phone away, not wanting to deal with the emotional turmoil while having to run through the script with the rest of the cast and crew.

The session ran for a few hours, and unbeknownst to you, your silenced phone had been going off nonstop. Messages and calls were coming in rapid succession. When the session finally finished, your manager met you with an exasperated look as you entered the car heading to your agency office.

Your manager called your name, irritation clear in her voice. “Do you have something to tell me?”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you leaned against the backseat of the car. “What are you talking about?”

“The article,” she said.

Your mind wandered to the headline you saw earlier. She shouldn’t be concerned about that. Was there anything else? Apparently, your continued silence was her breaking point.

“At which point were you planning to tell me about your shenanigans with one Min Yoongi of BTS?” she said in frustration.

Your eyes popped open in shock, your head quickly turning to look at her in surprise.

"Don't look so surprised. This is exactly what would happen if you decide to date anyone without telling me and the agency. Well, it's just magnified since it's him," she said as she handed you her tab, with the browser open to the article you saw the headline of earlier.

As you read through the piece, your anxiety heightened. It detailed how Yoongi had been photographed leaving a low-key restaurant some time ago. You continued scrolling, your heart pounding in your chest.

Then, your shock was palpable as you came across the photo. It was indeed Yoongi, leaving the restaurant, and the woman by his side was unmistakably you. Your friend's burger joint, the one you had insisted he try, was the backdrop for the photograph.

You clearly remembered that night. You and Yoongi were hanging out late in your new apartment when he mentioned craving a burger. You quickly convinced him to try out the burger joint that your friend had recently opened nearby. Seeing your enthusiasm, Yoongi quickly agreed with a teasing smile. It was late, in the middle of the week, unlikely that the restaurant would have many customers, but you still called ahead and asked your friend for a private table in the back of the restaurant, more for Yoongi's privacy than your own.

You and Yoongi had walked there and later back to your apartment, ditching your car, thinking that no one would pay attention to two people in baggy hoodies, sweatpants, face masks, and beanies strolling through your quaint neighbourhood.

Amidst your walk back, Yoongi had playfully proposed a bet, centered around Bagel's reaction to the enticing scent of meat grease that clung to both of you. As his confident owner, you felt affronted by the challenge. After all, who knew your fur baby better than you? So, with a smirk, you swiftly accepted Yoongi's bet.

As you entered the apartment, Bagel's reaction was decidedly different from what you expected. Despite your confidence in your pet-owning abilities, Bagel inexplicably favoured Yoongi's choice of bet. It was sheer dumb luck that won Yoongi the bet, and he couldn't help but grin triumphantly.

As the winner, he reserved the right to choose your next dinner destination. He quickly explained that he enjoyed the culinary adventure you had embarked on together, surprised that you, a former model with a notorious diet plan, had such a deep appreciation for food. You laughed along to his answer, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind his choice.

However, despite the laughter, a nagging feeling tugged at you. There was an air of nervousness in Yoongi's demeanour as he explained, a hint of hesitation in his voice and a subtle stutter that you couldn't quite ignore. It was as though he was hiding something, leaving you with a sense of curiosity and intrigue about what he might be keeping from you.

He has yet to exercise his right. Both of your schedules had been crazy, and you hadn’t hung out in the last two weeks. Just last night, he finally confirmed that he’ll come over to hang out tonight.

A wave of guilt and regret washed over you. You shouldn't have insisted on going to that restaurant.

“Manager-nim.” You whispered. “What do I do…?”

Your manager sighed, “Thankfully, you had the presence of mind to put on a disguise, and it's clear that fans haven’t discovered your new address yet,” referring to the fact that you had just moved to this new neighbourhood the week before that photograph was taken. “You’re not named in the article, but it's evident that the masses are inclined to think it’s you.”

You had no words to say, still clearly in shock.

Unfazed by your silence, your manager continued, “Now, you need to tell me what’s going on with you and him. We’re in touch with Big Hit, and both upper managements are prepared to release a joint statement for the two of you if necessary.”

“But...” You hesitated. “We’re not even dating.”

She frowned, her tone laced with concern. "Are you sure? If you're not dating now, do you think you might be soon?"

You weren't entirely sure. You knew you'd developed feelings for him, and you certainly enjoyed spending time together. But beyond that, Yoongi hadn't indicated his feelings clearly. At least, that's how it felt to you.

“I’ll cancel your meetings for the rest of the day,” your manager decided. “Please take some time to figure this out and let me know by tomorrow morning. We’ll have to release a statement by tomorrow night, at the very least.”

Numbly, you nodded. She had the driver direct the car to your home, and they left you alone with your thoughts.

You made your way to the couch, letting out a deep sigh. In the comfort of your home, the buzz of your phone in your purse finally caught your attention. Retrieving your phone, you found a flurry of messages from your manager, your best friend, and Yoongi himself.

You quickly sent a message to your best friend, asking him to give you some time to sort things out before you could tell him anything. You pondered how to break the news to him – the fact that you'd known Yoongi for a long time and had been hanging out with him after your drama shooting. You knew your best friend would recognize the woman spotted with Yoongi as you; he'd been shipping you two since the day your first drama episode with Yoongi aired.

With that message sent, you turned your attention to Yoongi's messages. His messages were a mix of concern and curiosity. He had sent a flurry of messages in the span of a few hours, along with phone calls too.

Yoongi: Hey, I saw the article. Are you okay? Yoongi: Why aren't you answering your phone? Yoongi: I tried calling, but you didn't pick up. Yoongi: We should talk about this. Yoongi: Oh, you're in the script reading session. Sorry. Yoongi: I hope it's going well! Yoongi: I know you've been wanting to play this type of character. Yoongi: Don't worry, they won't publish more articles. Yoongi: Big Hit is prepared to take legal measures. Yoongi: Just... text me back when you see this. Yoongi: Can I still come over tonight?

You sighed, realizing that he must have been worried sick about you. While you needed some time to sort out your feelings, you understood the urgency of the situation. Figuring out that you'd have a few hours before Yoongi would be free, you quickly replied, confirming that he could come over anytime, as your other meetings had been cancelled for the day.

To your surprise, not even an hour later, there was a knock on your door. You approached it cautiously, peering through the peephole to confirm the visitor's identity. It was indeed Yoongi, but he was heavily disguised, making you double-take to ensure it was not some creepy stalker trying to impersonate him.

Yoongi entered, looking both relieved and apologetic. "Sorry for being a bit late," he said, his voice slightly muffled by his ensemble. "I had to dodge the frenzy of fans and paparazzi waiting at the front of the agency building." He let out a frustrated sigh, clearly not a fan of the situation.

You gave a subtle nod, and without a word, the two of you slipped into an established routine, a comforting habit that had naturally developed whenever Yoongi visited.

First, as always, Yoongi switched his shoes for his pair of slippers. The comfortable black ones he had bought and stored at your apartment.

Then, he'd head to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He’d always use the mug he had brought for himself—a simple white mug adorned with a repeating pattern of his faces, clearly merchandise from somewhere.

Next, he claimed his spot on the couch, the one near a labelled box where his various chargers were neatly stored. On one of his first visits, he had adorably bemoaned your choice of gadgets, complaining that he'd have to bring his own set of chargers to your place. And so, he did that the next time he was over.

Lastly, you'd bring him snacks from your pantry. He had stocked some of his and your favourite snacks there after discovering your lack of inventory. As you were picking your choice for the night, you noticed that you'd need to restock some of his favourites, which he had finished during his last visit. 

As you closed the pantry door, you froze in disbelief. When had this become a routine? The realization hit you like a tidal wave, and you couldn't help but feel astonished by how seamlessly he had integrated himself into your life, forming a comfortable routine without you even realizing it.

When you place the snacks on the coffee table, Yoongi already sheds his disguise. Now completely at ease in his simple white t-shirt and ripped jeans. As you both settled on the couch, there was a brief silence in the room. You could feel the weight of the situation hanging in the air.

Finally, Yoongi broke the silence. "I'm really sorry about all this."

You looked at him, noticing the sincerity in his eyes. Despite the new chaos surrounding your lives, you could still see the familiar warmth in his gaze. "I'm the one who should be apologizing, Yoongi. I insisted we go out that night."

He shook his head. "No, it's not your fault," Yoongi replied firmly. "If anyone should apologize, it's me. I was the one recognized in that photo, not you. If you had gone out with someone else that night, none of this would have happened."

You were taken aback by Yoongi's response, his words filled with self-blame. As he let out a deep sigh, his frustration was palpable, and it tugged at your heartstrings.

"It shouldn't be like this,” Yoongi muttered under his breath before saying his next words clearly at you, "I- I hate that I can't even take you out for an impromptu meal without it turning into a potential scandal."

You reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It's okay, Yoongi. We just need to be patient and let things settle down. Maybe... maybe we should stop hanging out until then?"

"Do you really want that?" Yoongi asked solemnly.

As Yoongi looked at you with a serious expression, you couldn't help but hesitate for a moment. The thought of not seeing him for an extended period tugged at your heart. But you also knew that it might be the best course of action for both of your careers and peace of mind.

You replied, your voice tinged with reluctance, "I don't want that, Yoongi, but I also don't want to keep causing trouble for you or us. Maybe it's for the best, at least for a little while."

Yoongi let out a huff, his gaze dropping to the snacks on the coffee table. "See... I- fuck. This is exactly why I've been stopping myself. You deserve better... You deserve someone who can express his feelings and take you out on dates freely."

You were stunned by his words, unsure if he really meant what you thought he meant.

"What are you saying, Yoongi?" Your voice quivered with a mix of emotions.

"Do you really not know?" He whispered into the night, his voice filled with longing. "Have I not been obvious enough for you?"

You were speechless, your mind racing as you tried to process his confession.

"Clearly, I haven't been," he muttered under his breath. He turned to you and took your hands in his, prompting you to hitch your breath at the intimate gesture.

In the dimly lit room, with the weight of Yoongi's words hanging heavily in the air, you found yourself caught in a moment of vulnerability. His fingers gently caressed the back of your hand, sending shivers down your spine.

"Yoongi, I..." You began, struggling to find the right words, "I didn't want to assume anything."

He heaved another deep sigh before looking into your eyes with a mixture of longing and sincerity. He whispered your name softly, as if he had been keeping himself from saying this for a long time, "I care about you."

Your heart raced as you searched his eyes for any sign that this wasn't just a spur-of-the-moment confession. But what you found was a depth of emotion that mirrored your own.

"I had a plan," he let a curse slip from his lips again, "I didn't want to rush you or make things more complicated, especially with our careers and everything. But when I saw that article, I knew I needed you to know how I feel."

The sincerity in his voice and the tenderness of his touch made your heart swell with emotion. You were deeply moved by his confession and the fact that he had planned something special before the chaos of the article had intervened.

A soft smile graced your lips as you replied, "Yoongi, I care about you too, maybe even more than I should."

He responded with a genuine smile, one filled with warmth and kindness—the same smile that had captured your attention and perhaps even your heart when you first saw it years ago.

Leaning in closer, his forehead gently resting against yours, he spoke softly, "Then maybe we should give us a chance. We can be discreet, take it slow, and see where it leads."

It was an enticing proposition, one that filled you with excitement. As you gazed into Yoongi's eyes, you couldn't deny the connection that had been silently growing between you.

"I'd like that," you replied, a small smile gracing your lips.

In that intimate moment, the world outside seemed to fade away. It was just the two of you, finally acknowledging the feelings that had been quietly blossoming. The kiss that followed was gentle, a promise of something new and uncertain, yet undeniably exciting.

---

A/N: AAAAAHHH it's the end!!! With this, I'd like to announce that this story will be a part of a new series, Unspoken Hearts: A Love Story in Moments. Soulful Strangers was always meant to be an introduction to their relationship. I already have a few more stories up my sleeves for these two, some are just gonna be short drabbles and some are longer, you'll see (At least I hope you will!) 😉🥰

[hardwiredweird]

"Draw every day" is not bad art advice, you're just doing it wrong!

Or it just might not be for you.

(hah, look at me trying my hand at clickbait titles)

I've seen yet another person say that "Draw every day" is THE WORST advice and it WILL kill your creative spirit, yadda yadda yadda and after taking a moment to breathe and find my zen, I wanna say ....

No.

There are many factors to if that advice is good for you or not, but let me start out by stating why so many people, actual long term professionals in creative fields, do give that advice.

Doing something every day builds a habit and a habit is easier to keep up with than something you do occasionally when you feel like it.

When it comes to practicing, shorter but more frequent practice sessions can be retained better than occasional long sessions. We can only focus for so long at a time (studies apparently suggest that 20-50 minutes is ideal) after which we have strongly diminishing results.

So, five sessions of an hour each will be more productive than one long five hour session.

That said, I also think that a lot of people misinterpret the advice as "be creative every day of your life". Which ... yes, that is not sustainable, but that is also not what most people mean when they say that.

Breaks are not just inevitable (and should not make you feel like you 'failed') but they are necessary. Breaks are when our brains can absorb stuff and put it into our long term memory (which then translates to muscle memory for physical tasks).

So "Draw every day" doesn't mean literally every single day of your life. Take breaks, take a day, two days, three days off, if you need. Take those breaks occasionally or give yourself one scheduled day a week to take the time off. Different people will need different schedules.

"Draw every day" also doesn't mean "Be creative every day". A drawing habit consists of studies, too. And switching things up (do something cool and creative one day, practice line art the next, play with some colour theory the day after that...) is good and comes back to the "our brains need breaks to solidify stuff". If you try to come up with something new and creative every single day then, yes, that's going to burn you out.

But drawing every day can also just look like doing a little eye study on a post it note or doodling around to find a stylisation for noses you like. It's about staying in the habit. Not about being productive every day.

"But Tal, I can't draw every day, I don't have the time!" I hear some of you cry and ... yeah. I recognize that. That's what the little sub-title is for.

Some people just don't have the luxury of doing art every day. And that is fine. Be it your work schedule, your day to day tasks and obligations, your other hobbies or your health that prevents you from building that habit, that is all COMPLETELY FINE. In the end, doing art occasionally is still better than not doing art at all (if making art is your goal).

No advice out there (that also counts for a lot of 'do not ever do this' type of advice) is a one size fits all solution.

Drawing daily (under the caveats mentioned above with breaks and all) is a great way to improve fast (but just drawing daily isn't necessarily going to lead to improvement, intentional practice is, but this is a topic for another post). It is great advice for everyone who has the time and means (mental spoons included here) to build that habit. But many people interpret it wrong and it definitely is not advice for everyone.

Just keep in mind that just because something didn't work for you doesn't mean it doesn't work for others and suggesting that is the REAL bad art advice.

[chaotic-archaeologist]

Hey Reid, really random question, but what do you discuss in office hours generally?

For context, I'm a new undergrad student (on a joint English, drama, and creative studies course, I know this isnt your department but it's not too relevant) and we've been sent forms to fill in about what we want to discuss with our personal tutor in our first meeting with them. I have no idea what you're supposed to talk about in these sessions and as the semester's only just started we're not yet doing assessments, coursework or big projects at all. Plus, as a joint honours student I don't know whether I can talk about my other subject well with her or not as she's only from one subject's department.

The only thing I was thinking I could talk about would be the fact that it's become clear already that my passion in the subjects is completely different to everyone else's on my course (there's only about a dozen of us in the classes for one of my departments) and I guess that leaves me a little directionless so maybe something about careers to do with that but I feel like it's such early doors to start discussing careers.

Anyway yeah, as someone who has already been there and who I believe is now doing it too (if wrong, sorry!) do you have any general recommendations of what students can talk about in office hours with their personal tutors or other teachers? Thank you!

Psst, I'm going to tell you a secret: the vast majority of students do not actually come to office hours. Even though they should! It literally cannot hurt! And coming to office hours is a great opportunity to build rapport with your instructor/TA and get academic help! But out of the approximately 300 student's I've had, I've met with maybe 10 of them.

I say this not to be cynical, but to drive home the point that you are winning by just showing up. You don't have to come with a list of perfectly prepared questions—you're a student, and you are, by definition, learning! Do the readings and assignments, and engage with your instructor.

Now, I'm not sure how your program works, and you say tutor rather than TA, so the etiquette might be a little different. A tutor is there to help you academically, while a TA is there to answer some questions, but by and large you are expected to be in charge of your own learning experience.

As a TA, I'm generally happy to meet with students by appointment, but I also really appreciate it when students are able to understand that I am 1) a human being with a finite amount of time and energy, and 2) my job is to support you but not hold your hand. Your section may not be the only one your TA is responsible for, and they also have their own studies to attend to.

Here are some things that are appropriate to ask from your TA:

To look over a paper draft and offer feedback (provided this is something they have offered to do as part of their job)

Request feedback on an assignment after your grade to know what you could do better next time

Schedule a meeting to discuss topics you are struggling with

And some things that are not appropriate to ask your TA:

Questions where the answers can be found on the syllabus (due dates, percentage of grades for certain assignments, the readings for a given week)

When will I get my grade? (See my above point about being only human. If assignments have been turned in, assume your TA is working on getting them back to you, and that they cannot do so immediately. Give it at least two weeks before checking in)

Asking for a particular grade on an assignment

As for your first meeting with your tutor/instructor/TA, I'll reiterate: just show up! Introduce yourself, say hi, and don't feel too much pressure to hit the ground running.

Here are some posts I've made that you might find relevant:

Tips to make your professors love you

Student conduct

Citation how-to

Thank your professors

Take a deep breath. I sense that you might be someone who puts a lot of pressure on themselves to be perfect. Nobody else is expecting that from you. You're learning, and it's okay to be unsure and make mistakes! Trust in yourself to do your best in the moment; that's all you can do.

-Reid

[atranswomansdiary]

Day 149

November 1, 2020

What difference does a year make!

Last Halloween I was as alone in my apartment as I was last night, but I was joyous and filled with hope and love. I woke up on November 1st feeling like the world had given me another chance at happiness.

On that Halloween night, one year ago, as I lay in bed languishing and lamenting the sorry state of my life (little did I know!), I met C.F. through the web. We talked and talked… And fell for her over photos and our shared love for art and literature. Our relationship was short and sweet, and we remain friends to this day, but it is not the same.

This Halloween night was not as miraculous, to say the least.

It did bring me one thing, however. I’ve made my decision: I will tell my family my thoughts and feelings about transitioning. Considering that my sisters may very well have other things to do, I just asked them to clear their schedules for next Saturday because I want to have a family meeting and talk about something important to me. They both agreed and tried to get some idea of what was I referring to, but I didn’t say anything, of course.

So that’s it then. Next Sunday morning, for good or ill, I’ll be telling you how things went with this. Although I’m not sure yet whether I’m going to go through with this, I have already started therapy with a psychologist that specializes in helping people transitioning, and our sessions so far have really helped me to clear my mind and arrive at this conclusion.

Still! How I miss J.N., M.C. or even I.C.! I’d love to have someone I could talk to about these things, about my fears and trepidations and hopes and ideas. A therapist is good, but he doesn’t replace a good conversation with a friend… And I haven’t had one of those in some time now. I don't know why, but I don't feel like A.P. or J.C. could help me now. They're good at being there and listening, but I need more than that. I need words and reassurance. And a hug. Or ten.

Let’s hope everything goes well and, unless anything happens in between now and then, I’ll be seeing/writing you next Sunday morning with some good fucking news, for once!

Until then, with love,

ZZ