#I’m trying my best to push myself with this so I can improve more and more

[neoneun-au]

CAN'T HELP MYSELF; CHAPTER III: WHO WAITS FOR LOVE?

―PAIRING: wonwoo x fem!reader, mingyu x fem!reader ―GENRE: love triangle au, fluff, mild angst, romantic comedy, suggestive, smut ―CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 11.2k ―CHAPTER WARNINGS: angst, mild language, alcohol consumption, masturbation (explicit female, implied/mentions of male), 18+ only ―STATUS: ongoing

―AUTHOR’S NOTE: i cant link them here, but please find the series masterlist and other chapters on my blog. i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far, this is really only fun with interaction and it helps keep me motivation to finish !

iii: who waits for love?

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“You didn’t mention one of my roommates was basically a fucking model,” you complain, sinking into the absurdly massive grey sectional next to Jeonghan as he sits scrolling on his phone, attention removed from the drama providing background noise on the shared TV. 

“Who? Mingyu?” He tosses his head back with a bark of a laugh at the suggestion, “he’s a model idiot.” 

“Idiot or not you should have warned me he’d be so…so,” you toss your hands in the air, a dramatic display of frustration completed by the furrow in your brows. The image of Mingyu’s bare chest from your initial meeting (new and improved version 2.0 of hot roommate: now accompanied by a soundtrack of bed squeaks and the joy of someone else’s orgasm!) assaults your senses and you scrub it from your mind’s eye as best as you can before fixing your weary gaze back on Jeonghan, “so hot.”

“Oh please,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes as soon as the word falls from your lips. “Yeah he’s easy on the eyes, but once you get to know him his looks are much less impressive, trust me.” He shakes his head, raising his coffee to take a sip before pursing his lips and fixing you with a concerned stare, “I didn’t take you as the type to pine after tall, dark, and stupid. You’re not thinking of using him as a rebound are you?”

“What? Absolutely not,” the reply comes out perhaps more fervently than it should have because what was intended to deny the suggestion only serves to deepen the crease settling in between Jeonghan’s manicured eyebrows. You clear your throat and take a sip from the mug of tea growing cold in your hands as a cover. 

“Rebound,” you scoff at the word, trying to play off the twisting feeling in your gut with derision but only managing to dig the knife in deeper. “Definitely not. I have no plans to start dating anytime soon. Not after this breakup.” You’re aware that you’ve begun to ramble but as per usual, your mouth runs away with your words. Try as you might, you cannot scramble to retrieve them as they spill forward like a damn breaking open. Jeonghan stares at you with a slight frown as you monologue, “I barely even want to look at men full-stop. Don’t get me wrong, I mean, you’re okay, we’re friends and all. And Seungcheol is fine I guess ‘cause he lifted all of my heavy shit up the stairs like some kind of bodybuilding angel sent from protein-heaven,” a stray strand of hair falls in front of your eyes and you blow it away with a short puff of breath. 

“But dating? No. No, no, no,” you continue unabated, “absolutely not. I’m taking this time to get to know me. If anything, I’m dating myself. Mingyu might be hot but he won’t break my resolve, that’s for sure. I am determined,” you finish the speech with a single, firm nod–agreement with yourself clear and solid and in no way capable of breaking at the threat of warm brown puppy eyes flashed in your direction. 

“Right,” Jeonghan drags out the word, unconvinced by your impassioned declaration of independence. “Well, if you get bored of dating yourself and do end up wanting someone to mess around with for a bit, I can hook you up with some people. Serious or…less serious. Your choice.”

“I will be just fine on my own, thank you.” You nod once. Firm. Decisive. Not at all embarrassed by the display. 

“If you say so,” he sings, shaking his head and pushing himself off the couch before flicking the TV off. You sit in silence for a moment, sipping the last of your lukewarm tea, and listen as Jeonghan’ footsteps fade into the kitchen. The slight lingering guilt and shame from the night before stains your thoughts. A ring of liquid left on the surface of a coffee table, encircling the memory of Mingyu’s moaning and the keen sense of desire that burned a pit in your core at the sound.

Jeonghan returns from the kitchen a second later and sits down on the arm of the couch. He clears his throat to speak, more serious than you had seen since graduating university. “Listen, I’m not going to tell you how to live your life,” he begins. You inhale to laugh your disagreement of the statement but he holds up a single hand to silence you so you bite it back just as quickly. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I will just give you a warning, if I may” he lets his hand fall back down to his lap, “as your friend. And as someone who has your best interest at heart.” 

“Fine,” you allow, buying into the sincerity, “I’m listening.” 

“I said that I can hook you up with people both serious and not so serious,” he says, pausing to take a deep breath, “Mingyu is not serious.”

The image of the man in question pops up in your mind once more. An observable object–lips locked with the mystery brunette, hands roaming the expanse of her body as they flutter like a pair of dragonflies locked in a mating ritual towards his bedroom. The chorus of “ohs” and “ahs” that chorus in your ears like the audio from the old Italian softcore porn films you used to sneak out of bed to watch in your adolescence. The squeaking of the bed frame, and even the eventual abrupt departure first thing this morning, project themselves across the walls of your brain like a feel of film. All fleeting images and experiences serve as firsthand evidence backing up what Jeonghan is saying to you at this moment in the harsh light of day. 

“If you’re in it for a quick, no strings attached hookup then, well,” he sighs, brushing his bangs out from in front of his eyes, “you’re a grown woman, I trust you can make your own decisions. But I’ve never seen Mingyu with the same girl more than once. So just…be careful. Because if you want something substantial, you would be barking up the wrong tree with him.” 

You nod and the previous image of Mingyu–all roaming hands and bucking hips–dissolves pixel by pixel into the knitted brows of concern and the serious expression his classically handsome face held barely an hour ago. The warmth of his hand as it pressed ever so lightly against the skin of your forehead–an act so painfully tender and familiar it made you yearn at the intimacy of it. While your logical mind does believe what Jeonghan is saying, another part of you (a deeper and much more foolish part) can’t help but feel like there has to be more to Mingyu than the rest of them give him credit for. That maybe there is something to be taken seriously there. 

The thought dissipates into vapour as Vernon strolls down the stairs–bleary eyed and dazed with the lingering sleep still clawing at the corners of his eyes. He nods lazily in silent greeting, clad in tie dye and baggy jeans, and walks past the pair of you and disappears into the kitchen. 

“Just,” Jeonghan hesitates a moment, waiting for the sound of the fridge opening in the next room to disrupt the strained silence that had settled between you, “be careful, okay?” 

“Don’t worry,” you smile, genuinely grateful for the advice and care from your long-time friend, despite the bells of disagreement ringing out inside of you. “I’ll be fine.”

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“Do you think I need a rebound?” The question comes after an hour of banter and conversation over way too expensive cocktails in the dimly lit corner of the bar you used to frequent when you were still going to university with Seulgi. Her insistence that you get out of the apartment and stop stewing in your own thoughts had finally paid off and truthfully the distraction was not entirely unwelcome. But you were still stubbornly refusing to admit that she was right. The status quo of your friendship since the very beginning. 

“Didn’t you say you were swearing off men or something?” Seulgi asks, tapping a manicured fingernail against the side of her nearly empty manhattan. 

“That was before I saw the reality of the men I was swearing off,” you sigh, mourning the loss of your already weak resolve. Solemn regret for the poorly timed declamations you had given voice to in the past. “And the reality is that they're pretty fucking hot.” 

“You mean one of them is pretty fucking hot, right?” she emphasizes, ever observant, and you grimace at her over the lip of your own half-empty glass.  

“One of them looks like a Greek fucking God for no reason,” you grumble, turning to wave the waitress over for another round, “like Adonis or something. It’s not my fault I have functioning eyeballs.” 

“Adonis wasn’t a god, he was the mortal lover of Aphrodite.”

“Well whatever he was, I’m now stuck living in an apartment with him.” The young waitress walks up with an expectant look and Seulgi orders another round of the same while you drain the last of your drink, savouring the bitterness of the gin as it lingers at the tip of your tongue. You watch the waitress as she walks back towards the bar, brunette ponytail swinging behind her like in rhythm with her steps, and wonder vaguely if maybe she’s the girl you saw Mingyu with. 

Seulgi turns back to you with a slight roll of her eyes, “I’m sure it's not that bad. Just ignore him, you’re mostly working or asleep  when you’re not just hanging around bugging me anyway.” 

“Pretty hard to ignore him when he’s so openly hooking up with some random girl in a condo with 4 other people who can clearly hear him.” 

“Well put some earphones in or something, listen to a podcast,” she laughs, shaking her head. You bite your tongue, reluctant to mention the fact that you had willingly listened in as they fucked. That maybe you had enjoyed it a little more than you were letting on. You didn’t need the inevitable teasing that was bound to come if you told her any of that. “Do you remember our one roommate? From second year?” 

“Oh god,” you balk at the memory, “Johnny?” 

“He was so loud,” she grimaces. So many late nights spent huddled together on her bed watching movies, joined in mutual avoidance of the self-proclaimed playboy and his rotating roster of girls. “And then you went and hooked up with him which was just the worst. He was so insufferable after that.” 

“Hey, in my defense I was desperate and not exactly in my right mind,” you bristle at the thought of your pathetic, erstwhile crush. Surely, you had thought in the throes of your youth and naivety, someone who pulled that many girls knows exactly how to make them feel good. Yet by the end of it, as he lay open-mouthed snoring on the bare mattress next to you, you were left with a clear idea of why you never seemed to see the same girl more than once. “Anyway, from the sounds coming out of her, Mingyu seems to actually know what he’s doing in bed.” 

“So you did listen,” she smirks. 

“The walls are thin,” you let the paltry excuse fall from your lips as she tosses her head back in laughter. Gulping down a mouthful of water in a vain attempt to swallow some of the embarrassment boiling like hot lava in your bloodstream. 

“What do you think they were doing?” Seulgi leans forward with a conspiratorial gaze–brown eyes full and bright and filled to the brim with a hint of evil. There have been a few moments throughout your years of friendship where she has fixed you with a look like this, and most of them led to some of the worst decisions either of you have ever made. Breaking into the community swimming pool after dark, stealing the neighbouring houses’ lawn ornaments, making out with dudes that may or may not have been married. Her desire for intrigue terrified and excited you in equal measure. 

“Pretty sure they were fucking,” you respond and she sits back, disappointed at the bland reply. 

“Yeah, I got that part. I mean details. If we’re gossiping, we should do it right.” 

The cacophony of the bar consumes you. Chatter and laughter from nearby tables floods your senses, drowning out the roar of guilt that knocks at the door of your mind as you consider your next words carefully. Whether to completely dive off the deep end and betray your new roommates privacy (in more ways than you already have). If you had been a little more sober and a little less intrigued by the man in your own right, you might have shut the topic of conversation down before it even began. You might have left the apartment for the night and slept on a chair in the lobby and avoided the entire tryst to prevent the memory of his moans from carving themselves into your temporal lobe. 

But you did not and now you are just as invested in the situation, and Seulgi’s complete lack of shame about asking for details further strangled any lingering guilt you had left. “Well,” you start and she leans in closer, eyes alight with anticipation, “they started in the hallway. I thought they were going to have sex right against the wall while I was trapped hiding behind the couch.” 

She laughs, head tossed back in mirth, “bet you would have loved that. Mingyu, bare ass out in front of you,” she jeers and you bristle at the accusation (even if you know she’s right). The waitress returns with your drinks and you mumble a brief thank you to her as she sets the glasses down. Seulgi continues to laugh, pleased with your reaction, “it would have been your wet dream come true.”

“Okay, that’s it. I’m not saying anything else,” you grumble into your fresh drink, wincing at the bite of the liquor. Cocktails were never your thing but Seulgi had offered to pay so who were you to refuse. 

“Aww,” she whines, “fine, fine, I’ll stop teasing you. Please give me the play by play. I am so curious.” She claps her hands together in mock prayer, pleading for your cooperation, and you think she might make an excellent lawyer or serial killer if she weren’t so normal most of the time.

“Fine,” you relent after a beat, already too wrapped up in reliving the night to abandon the story anyway. “Obviously,” you stress, “that didn’t happen. They were making out there for maybe like 5 minutes but it felt like hours. I was so worried she was going to see me but thankfully I managed to stay pretty low.” 

Seulgi takes a sip of her darkly coloured drink, you can tell she wants to interject but she manages to hold true to her promise. 

“So they stumble off to his room,” you continue with a sigh, “and I go to mine, which, mind you, is right next to his. We share a wall.” She winces and you give her a knowing nod, steeling yourself against the all too vivid memory. “I crawl into bed, trying to block out the noise for a while, which at this point isn’t too loud. It’s just like…some muffled talking and moaning and the occasional slap of like…skin on skin. Maybe he spanked her…” you trail off, shaking your head along with the words, fully invested in the theatrics of the storytelling now. “But, through some cruel twist of fate his bed, just like mine, is also right up against our shared wall. So as soon as they really get going, I can feel it.”

“What, like…” she thrusts in her seat, a quizzical slant to her eyebrows, “like shaking?” 

“Yup,” you pop the ‘p’ for emphasis and she lets out a low whistle. 

“For how long?” 

“I don’t know,” you shake your head, “felt like forever. I was just clutching my sheets like it was an earthquake or something.” You do conveniently leave out the heat of desire and curling of toes, but she didn’t need to know that part. 

“Did it start off slow?” she asks, voice conspiratorial. “Fast? Do you think he ate her out first?”

“Seulgi,” you hiss, keeping your voice low. You glance over at the table of college guys next to you but they don't appear to have been listening.

“What, I’m not allowed to ask?” She balks, hand on heart, and appears offended for a moment before the usual mischievousness settles back in and she leans forward with a glint. “Did Wonwoo ever eat you out?”

“We are not discussing the details of my sex life right now.” 

“No of course not,” she rolls her eyes, “we’re just discussing the details of someone else’s.” You grumble at the inability to argue with this statement. “How long has it been since you got laid anyway?” 

“I don’t know,” you sigh, dropping your head to the table and then regretting it immediately when you realise how sticky it is. “Like five months maybe?”

“Five? Didn’t you break up with Wonwoo like…” she fixes her eyes on the ceiling for a brief moment, calculating the time passed in her head before turning back to you with frown lines creased into her forehead, “six weeks ago?”

You shrug, sinking your embarrassment into another sip of alcohol, “so we hadn’t had sex in a while, so what?” 

“Do you think maybe that was a contributing factor in your dissatisfaction with the relationship?” She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. 

“I don’t need a therapy session, Seulgi.” 

“On the contrary, I think you would benefit greatly from therapy,” she laughs, “but that’s not what this is. You’ve just been sort of distant lately.” You open your mouth to protest but she stops you with a glance, “don’t start, I know we’ve been hanging out, but over the last few months you haven’t been as open about your emotions and stuff. You used to tell me everything, even things I didn’t want or need to hear, but for a while it feels like you’ve just been…hiding. Internalizing.” She leans forward and taps the center of your forehead with one, manicured finger. “Stop that. It’s not good for you to be in your head so much.”

“I hate to say it but, you’re right,” you sigh, begrudgingly agreeing with her observation. The skin where she had poked you tingling in the aftermath of her touch like a beacon of truth.

“I always am,” she nods, “but seriously. We’re friends. I want to hear how you’re feeling. I know I make fun of you a lot, but that’s just ‘cause you’re so easy to make fun of.”

“Hey!” 

She laughs and you’re reminded of why she and Jeonghan always got along so well. “Seriously though,” she says, expression sobering, “maybe you wouldn’t fixate so much of your loneliness and desperation onto random guys if you got out of your head a bit more regularly. Just a thought.” 

“It's not desperation, I just…” you trail off, unsure of where to begin. Unsure even of what your own internal landscape was trying to tell you. You wanted to confide in her, to be more open and transparent, but it was hard to do that when none of you couldn’t even sort out your thoughts and feelings from your anxieties and worries. It was hard to be clear when everything just felt like mud. She waits, expectant, as you sift through the much for some clear strand of thought. “You’re right, about the loneliness anyway, I know you are.” She nods, dark hair spilling over her shoulders. “But it’s not desperation.”

“So then what is it?” she asks and you try to place it. Try to tug on the thought to follow where it was leading you. What was it about Mingyu that made you feel like you were chasing something? Clawing at the walls of some well of yearning like a prisoner of your own desires. What was it about him that was making you want more? More information, more contact, more, more, more. 

“I think,” you start, hesitant to speak the word lest it be wrong. “I think it’s curiosity.”

“About Mingyu?” 

“Yeah, him. And about myself,” you shake your head. Ruminating on your spiraling thoughts was one thing, but vocalising them for someone who knew you oftentimes better than you knew yourself was another thing entirely. Your thoughts held more weight now that someone else was bearing witness to them. They had more consequences now than just 15 minutes of anxiety or a few hours of doom-scrolling.

“What about yourself?” she asks, unraveling the mess as you present it to her. 

“I feel like…I’ve been in this strange place between needing people for everything and also trying my best to not need anyone at all. I can’t do my taxes without help, I can’t change a tire without help, I can’t even move apartments without it! But when it comes to emotions or vulnerability…I would rather just deal with it on my own, you know?” She nods, attention focused completely on you. Despite how long you’ve been friends, the direct attention still flickers a switch of shyness inside of you.  

“That’s what it was like with Wonwoo, too. He was never the most emotionally available person and I think I just got used to dealing with things on my own because of it. I didn’t want to burden him with my thoughts or feelings cause I know I have a lot of them. Don’t get me wrong, though, it wasn’t like he refused to listen or anything I just…he just wasn’t really open with his own feelings or thoughts so I sort of started to feel guilty about dominating those conversations all the time with mine. Like I was using him as some sort of emotional punching bag. And then I just got used to it, and it took so long for me to realise that I needed something more than that…” 

Any hesitation you had felt before dissipates as you talk, little by little. You feel like you’re back in your dorm room together, laying on your floor and just letting yourself pour out every thought, every feeling, every worry you had. Stream of consciousness–your lips to Seulgi’s ears. That open vulnerability you shared before life and work and everything else got in the way and left the door open for inhibition, shame, and guilt to move into the space between.

You feel lighter as you speak, like you had been needing this–craving it. Waiting for her invitation to come to let loose the torrential downpour of your mind to a willing listener. To a friend. 

She was right. She always was.

“So what is it about this Mingyu guy, then? You don’t think he would just be the same?” She asks, shifting the focus, and you purse your lips in concentration. 

“I’m not sure…” you trail off. And you really weren’t sure. Was he just an idle fascination after all? Did you just find him hot and that smoke screen of good looks was blinding you to the fact that he was just some guy like everyone before him? Or was there actually something there, in spite of it all? You mull it over while Seulgi takes a leisurely sip of her drink. “I was talking to Jeonghan the other day, and he said something that sort of made me think–”

“That’s a surprise,” she laughs, unable to resist the opportunity for a jab at your mutual friend. 

“He said ‘Mingyu is not serious’ and I don’t know,” you continue, unabated by her comment, “I get this feeling that that’s not the full truth.”

“What, like psychic intuition?” she laughs and you shake your head. 

“No, no…well, maybe. I don’t know. Obviously I don’t know the guy very well yet, and I have seen him do exactly what Jeonghan was warning me he does but…” you sigh, trying to collect your scattered thoughts of the man that is currently plaguing your mind. “He has also been very thoughtful, and he seems to notice such small details that the others don’t. I don’t know…I just think there might be something more to him than that, you know?”

“And you think you’re going to be the one to discover that side of him?” she asks, eyebrow quirked. Astute as ever. 

“No,” you start, but catch yourself in the lie immediately. “Well, yeah, I guess. I just want to see if my hunch is correct.” 

She fixes you with a withering gaze, dark brown eyes boring into your own for a moment before she laughs again, “Oh I get it now, you want to fix him.”

“I can’t help it, I love a project,” you sigh, resting your cheek in your palm and tracing idle circles against the wood grain of the table top. 

“So take up crocheting or something! Stop throwing yourself at every man who looks like a kicked puppy.” You groan at the accusation but can’t deny the truth in it. You did have a track record. “Look, if you want to do this. Really want to crack that big beefy chest open and see what’s inside, I’m not going to stop you, but I’m warning you now that I do not think this is going to end well.”

“You sound like Jeonghan,” you mumble, eyes closed as you listen to the lecture. 

“Good, at least someone you live with has some brains.” She shakes her head, pausing to hand her card to the waitress as she walks over with the bill for the evening. Silence stretches out for a moment, the din of the bar enclosing in to envelop you in its swell as you wait for the transaction to finish. The waitress returns and Seulgi slips her card back into her wallet before turning back to you, “I’m not saying this to be mean, but I really think you should take some time to be with yourself before you end up repeating the same mistakes you made with Wonwoo.” 

“Harsh,” you mutter, feeling the sting of it spear through your heart and settle there. Slow poison. 

She softens, eyes warming as she slides off her chair. You follow suit and walk with her out into the chill of the night. The bitterness of winter was starting to seep slowly into the air, you can feel it biting at your skin as you step outside with her to wait for the Uber she ordered to pull up.

“I love you and I want what’s best for you, and if you think that there might be something there with this Mingyu guy then I hope you’re right, I really do,” she says, a smile softening her expression. “I just want you to be careful, ok?” 

“Okay,” you sigh, hugging your arms tight against your chest to fight off the wind as it blisters through your thin jacket. “I love you, too. And I will be careful, I promise. I’m not really too keen to repeat my last relationship either…”

“Good,” she nods, eyes roaming to the curb as a slick black sedan pulls up. “I’ll see you soon. Try not to throw yourself too big of a pity party before then.” She waves goodbye as she strides towards the car. You roll your eyes, returning the wave, before starting your brisk walk the few blocks back to the condo.

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Time passes slowly in the new stasis of your life. You take the new opportunity in the wake of your hangout to bury yourself in work and get through some projects that had been building up untouched while you were feeling sorry for yourself. You kept up with regular jogs with Seungcheol, largely at his behest, and they were starting to become an enjoyable break in your days. A way to clear your mind and focus your attention on your body. It also did not escape your notice that the route he was taking you on now steered clear of the street where you had seen Wonwoo a few weeks ago. You use your commitment to the new routine as a silent thank you to him for somehow knowing what you needed when you needed it.

Vernon was becoming a favourite of yours as well. A quiet denizen of the condo; he showed up at random hours, taking a seat near you but not too close, reading through scripts or scrolling on his phone in companionable silence as you worked. It was like living with a cat that took care of itself and had an impressive collection of beanies. 

Mingyu you tried to avoid, for the most part. He still plagued your thoughts on a daily basis, but out of respect for your friends’ concerns you wanted to give this budding infatuation time to settle into shape. To give yourself time to try and figure out what your real feelings on the matter were. You tried to find a delicate balance between roommate and acquaintance, figuring out his general schedule and adjusting your own accordingly so that you weren’t caught in any more awkward situations in the middle of the night or without anyone else around. 

All of these measures were helping to make you feel more at home in the condo. Less like an interloper disrupting their days and more like a part of the makeshift family–even if that part for now was cousin, twice-removed. 

As a result you were spending less time doing your work from the cafe and much more of it huddled over your laptop on the coffee table in the living room. Projects were getting done quicker, though it did mean that you were seeing Seulgi less often. 

“Why aren’t you answering my texts?” Seulgi’s face blinks to life on the screen of your phone as you finally accept her FaceTime call. “Are you still moping?” 

“I’m not moping!” you defend, raising the phone to hide the view of the pajamas you’ve been wearing for the past 24 hours as you were locked in a death-match with an upcoming deadline.

“Well how many more projects do you have left to do before we can go out? It’s been two weeks since I saw you now that you’re actually working from home,” she sighs in exasperation. Judging by the smoked out black liner defining her eyes, she was heading out tonight with or without you anyway. “Yerim is in town and she’s been asking about you.” 

“Yerim? Wait, since when? I thought she was still in England?” you straighten up at the mention of your distant friend’s name.

“She’s back for now to get some visa renewal stuff done,” Seulgi answers, “and we’re going out tonight so you should come if you’re not still buried under a mountain of work.”

You glance at the screen of your laptop, folders stacked on your desktop in a messy landscape of the digital mountain you created for yourself. The thought was tempting but you knew Yerim and you knew what a night out with her always entailed. Read: getting black out drunk in a club and stumbling home at 6:00am the next morning. You had made a lot of progress scaling your workload, but you weren't sure that even without work you would have the energy needed for a night out like that. 

The front door clicks open behind you and you spin your head to spout a quick greeting. Mingyu nods a quick hello, arms loaded with bags of groceries, before disappearing into the kitchen. 

“Who was that?” Seulgi asks, noting the interruption in your conversation.

“Mingyu,” you answer, mindlessly pushing yourself off the ground and bringing her with you as you walk into the kitchen behind him in search of a glass of water. He smiles at you as you enter but says nothing as Seulgi’s voice rings out through your phone.

“Ah,” she smirks, “the one with the nipples?” You roll your eyes at the clear attempt to embarrass you but nod—pointedly ignoring the man in question as he sputters next to you at the comment. You fill a glass with water from the filtered jug in the fridge. “So are you coming tonight or should I tell Yerim you’re too depressed?”

You give it a moment of thought. You haven’t seen Yerim since she moved to the UK in the middle of her third year of university, after the rest of you had already graduated. She sent some odd gifts here and there—chocolate, snacks, a figurine of Shakespeare wearing heart print boxers—but communication had dwindled as you all found your footing in your adult lives, far removed from the heady days of hedonistic college life. 

“Well first of all, don’t tell her I’m depressed, ‘cause I’m not,” you emphasise and Seulgi laughs at the bitter defense, “but I don’t think I can make it tonight. We should make plans for dinner or something before she leaves, though. Something a little more lowkey than the club.” 

“Fine, be boring,” she sighs. “By the way, Yerim brought a friend back with her. He’s apparently cute and not completely useless. She thought you might like to meet him, just as a distraction. Or a rebound that’s not going to jeopardize your living situation. He’s also coming tonight” 

You groan, settling down in a kitchen chair—opposite to the one Mingyu had sat down in with his reheated leftovers. He watches you with mild interest out of the corner of his eye while you try to think of a way to convince Seulgi that you don’t need Yerim’s charity date. “I would, but I already have plans tonight,” you lie, hoping she buys it without question.

“Oh?” she asks, eyes narrowed in cautious suspicion. “Do you have other friends?” 

“Very funny,” you roll your eyes, “but no, actually. It’s just with my roommate.”

“Which one?” she probes, digging you deeper into the grave of your own lie.  

“Oh uh–” you stutter but your eyes flicker above the screen of your phone, locking in on Mingyu’s own wide brown gaze. “Mingyu. We’re going to dinner tonight.”

He opens his mouth to speak, clearly confused by being dragged into your mess, but you shake your head lightly—willing him to just roll with it. He clamps his mouth shut and returns to his bowl of stew. 

“Mingyu?” Her surprise is genuine and you can tell she’s starting to believe you. A flicker of concern shines in her eyes. “Is it like…a date?” 

“No, Seulgi,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger. She was edging dangerously close to that  ‘jeopardizing your living situation’ territory on her own. “It’s just dinner. With a roommate.” 

“Okay,” she drawls, “but if you end up against a wall with his face between your thighs—”

“Goodbye, Seulgi,” you end the call with a panicked stab of your finger and lean back in your chair, eyes shut tight against the rising tide of anxiety. You feel lightheaded. Hopefully Mingyu didn’t catch that last part. 

“Did we—” He clears his throat. His voice, hesitant and low, floating in and dispeling your faint hope that he hadn’t been paying attention. “Did we have plans I forgot about?” 

You want to laugh, he sounds so genuinely worried. It forces a bitter bubble of bile to rise up into your throat. “No,” you shake your head, clearing it with a sip of water. “Don’t worry you don’t have to go out to dinner with me, I just really didn’t want to go out tonight. Yerim is sort of wild sometimes and the thought of meeting some stuffy English guy in a club was making me feel ill.” 

“Oh,” he smiles—also hesitant, but you can see a hint of his canines poking out behind his lips. “Well, glad I could be of service, then.” His smile widens and you can’t help but return it with one of your own. 

“You have been most helpful,” you laugh. “Sorry for using you as a scapegoat. Also sorry about the nipples thing, Seulgi has a selective memory.” 

“I don’t mind,” he shakes his head, the flush of warmth in his skin betrays the hint of embarrassment he’s trying to mask. You smile at the grace he’s giving you in what could have been an exceptionally awkward moment (especially after weeks of avoiding being alone with him) and push your chair back–wooden legs sliding against the tile. You stand up, preparing to turn around and hunker back down in front of your laptop screen, but Mingyu calls out your name before you get the chance. 

“Yeah?” you reply, half-turned towards the living room. 

“If you do,” he pauses, clearing his throat. “If you do want to go out to dinner tonight though…I could do that. I would uh…I’d like that.”

Your eyes trail from his still slightly pink face to his nearly empty bowl of leftovers. “But you already ate?” 

“Yeah,” he laughs, hand rubbing the back of his neck. A gesture so familiar to you from spending so much time with Wonwoo, but it looks different on him. Less like an anxious tick and more like a bashful habit. “I can eat again though,” he drops his hand from his neck and pats his stomach twice, “I’m a bottomless pit.” 

You should say no. You know you should say no. You shouldn’t dig yourself any deeper into this hole than you already have. But looking at him now, eyes so wide and genuine—freely offering you this tether of kindness—you can’t seem to bring yourself to summon up the word.

“Okay,” you reply, deadpan. Numbed with the confusion and surprise of this sudden change of plans so easily agreed to. So easily ruining weeks of careful avoidance and the cooling off of the one-sided tension you felt when you were near him. 

“Great,” he grins, white teeth glistening in the bright lights of the kitchen. “I need to grab a shower first and make a quick call, but how about we head out in an hour? What kind of food are you in the mood for? Do you have any favourite spots?” 

“I uh—” you stammer, unsure of the answer to the posed question. “I’m fine with anything. I don’t go out for dinner a lot so I don’t really know that many restaurants…”

“No problem,” he smiles again, standing up and grabbing his bowl. “I know plenty, I’ll bring you to a good one. Promise.” He winks before turning around to rinse out his dish and your heart skips a beat at the expression. One you would so often find lecherous and off-putting seems somehow so endearing coming from him. You scold your brain for the thought before stalking back to your room to change out of your pajamas and attempt to appear somewhat presentable. 

.

.

.

The lights of the city cast their soft glow over the water of the slow moving river. A hypnotizing dance of yellow and gold against the backdrop of the night sky. It lulls your thoughts–quietens them to a dull roar–as you sit next to Mingyu on a park bench.

You had finished dinner a half hour ago; a mouthwatering feast of flavour grilled by the deft hands of your roommate himself. You watched as he took to the task with an almost reverent disposition—ushering the food through the cycle of cooking as you sat across from him, absorbed in the aroma and savouring each morsel he placed in front of you. 

You had worried that he was going to take you to some uptight, fine dining restaurant where each dish was somehow the size of your pinky finger while costing more than you made in a day (Mingyu did have a vibe of luxury about him); but when he opened the door to the small, hole-in-the-wall barbeque joint in a random side-street you felt the tension in your shoulders ease and you were finally able to let yourself relax. 

He ordered–a generous selection of high-quality but reasonably priced beef–and you sat and ate and talked. It was normal and nice and the old wood-planked walls of the restaurant leant the entire dinner an air of casualness that your anxiety-addled brain desperately needed. Just a nice normal dinner with a roommate who you did not have any romantic attraction to at all.

Conversation continued after dinner ended. He was easy to talk to, easy to listen to, and you lost yourself in it, completely forgetting about your previous plan to avoid him, as he paid the bill. You continued to talk as you left the restaurant, stepped back out onto the street, and as you continued to walk together until you saw the Han River stretching out in front of you. 

You hadn’t been paying attention as you walked–just let your feet move under the vague assumption that you were just heading back home–so reaching the river had come as a surprise. Mingyu’s face remained impassive as he led you past the numerous couples dotting the riverbank, each splayed out on grass and blankets, bathed in the soft amber glow of the city. You followed him for a few hundred feet until he stopped at a small hill and sat down on a bench, draping his arm casually over the back as he leaned against the sun-faded wood.

You hesitate a minute before sitting down. The mirage of purely platonic companionship had dissipated step by step as you followed him downstream, watching the way his jacket moved against his torso–loosely fitted but structured enough to hint at the firmness of his shoulders underneath, swelling as his arms swung idly at his sides. Your mind blaring a fire red warning in Jeonghan’s voice: be careful. Mingyu notices you hesitate and offers a warm smile, just touching at the corners of his eyes. He moves over an inch on the bench to give you more space and your heart takes that moment to consider itself some sort of acrobat in your chest. You silence the warning, washing it out with your own self-soothing lies, before taking a seat next to him and focusing on the night skyline. 

Living in the city always felt isolating. Like the loneliness of existence was only amplified by the millions of other lives that played out parallel to your own. Millions of other people with different thoughts, feelings, and experiences existing right next to yours–there, but never touching. Lines crossing and converging but rarely intertwining for longer than a heartbeat. 

Wonwoo had been an anchor in that sea of loneliness. Something solid to hold onto as you were buffeted by the waves of life. Stabile, grounding. You never realised how much you needed that stability until it was no longer there. Until you were cast adrift once more, alone in the deep blue. 

Seulgi was there of course–as well as your other friends and family–but it wasn’t the same. They were islands of reprieve to visit when needed, and to offer the same when they did, but it wasn’t the same as having that one person to tether yourself to. To merge your life with and create a new island on solid foundations. Unshakeable, until it’s not. 

Maybe you were pathetic, relying on a partner for so much support. Needing someone to rescue you from your own life. Maybe you needed to save yourself for once. 

“Do you ever get the feeling like you’re going to end up dying alone?” you ask the question, half expecting it to dissolve into the air in front of you and go completely unanswered. Unsure if you even want an answer or if you just needed to remove the thought from your mind.

Mingyu scoffs, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he glances at you sideways–evaluating. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem for you.” 

“Oh?” you raise an eyebrow, a twinge of offense scurrying up at the comment. “And what makes you so sure of that?”

“Well, what makes you think you would?” he counters and you let a small laugh slip out at the seriousness of his expression. 

“I don’t know,” you shake your head, dismissing the thought and turning your attention back towards the view. Bitterly regretting altering the mood so seriously. You should have remained flippant, joyous. Unserious. But when did your mouth ever listen to you? “I was just thinking out loud.”

“Oh no you don’t,” he laughs, “you brought it up and now you’re avoiding the question?” You feel the heat of his body warm the air around you as he adjusts on the bench, angling away from the river to better face you and pry the answers free under the weight of his attention.

“You avoided mine!” you bite back in defense, turning in kind to face him, but realising the trap too late as he flashes you a wolfish grin.  

“Ah-ha, so it was a serious question!” he cries, pleased with himself. “Listen if you want my honest answer, I will give it to you but I want an answer in return as well.” 

You hesitate, not for the first time tonight—wavering at the edge of the offer and cursing your propensity for sticking your foot straight into your mouth at the drop of a hat. 

Do you really want to open up to him like this? 

It had been such a nice evening. Good food, good conversation, and a nice walk along the river. It had been a while since you had felt so at ease in someone's company. And yet, despite all of that, you had to go and get lost in your self-sabotaging, meandering thoughts and open your big dumb mouth. Did Mingyu even really want to know? He seemed friendly and open enough but you can’t help but hear Jeonghan’s voice as it bounces off the walls of your mind: ‘Mingyu is not serious’. Did he know what Pandora’s Box he was willingly opening by asking you? Did he care?

You fix your gaze on him, evaluating, searching his eyes for any sign of ambivalence or even trickery. He stares back, waiting patiently for you to mull it over, and you come up with no discernable ulterior motive. Nothing lurking in the clear brown of his eyes other than open curiosity and a slight glimmer of amusement. 

“Ugh, fine,” you relent, falling back against the bench with a huff. You forgot Mingyu’s arm is resting against the back and you feel the pressure of it against you as you settle deeper into the bench. “Why do I think I’m going to die alone…” you repose the question, willfully ignoring the shiver that ripples out from the spot where his arm is pressed against you. You can feel the warmth of it even through your jacket. “Maybe because I’m a bit of an anxious wreck and that can’t be easy to deal with. Or maybe because I’ve managed to fuck up every relationship I’ve ever been in.”

“I don’t think so,” Mingyu replies, assured in his denial of your reasoning. 

You let out a mirthless laugh and glare into the middle distance. “Don’t think so? Don’t think what? That I’m not an anxious wreck? You clearly don’t know me that well.”

“No, I believe that part, though anxiety can be treated to a certain extent. I have this psychologist friend, Minghao, he talks a lot about it. I could get you his number if you want.” he offers and you furrow your brow at the suggestion. 

“You want to set me up with a psychologist?”

He laughs, “not like a date. Like if you wanted to book an appointment to see him about it. You know, like a therapist?” 

“Oh,” you mumble, immediately feeling stupid. “So what did you mean then?”

“Just that it takes two to fuck up a relationship most of the time.  You can’t fuck up something that wasn’t ready to be fucked up, you know? No one is perfect, we all have issues so no relationship is ever perfect and that’s not the fault of just one person.”

“Wow,” you exhale. His words sink in, a stark contrast against the internal monologue of shame and blame you had callously constructed. A differing perspective roaring in to shake your foundations. You try to reckon with it, the thought that it might not be all your fault, and it clamours and clangs against your brain in the worst way. In a way that you know it might be true but you’re not ready to accept it yet. 

“Did I say something wrong?” Mingyu asks, momentarily rendered insecure by your plunge into melancholic silence. 

“No, no,” you assure him, distantly amused by his immediate assumption that it might have been him that did something wrong. “It’s just…” you hesitate, unsure of how to word it. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so insightful.”

He snorts out a laugh, “thanks, I guess. I have my moments.” 

“No, no, I don’t mean that I think you’re like…incapable of insight, just…” you pause, trying to reformulate the thought in a way that doesn’t sound like an insult. “I’m just not used to getting reality checks like that from people I don’t really know that well.”

“Oh, okay,” he laughs again, in relief this time, and you feel the edge of tension you had been holding in your body ebb away. “Well, I mean it though,” he affirms, “I don’t think it means you’re going to die alone.”

“Okay, well,” you sigh, unsure where to follow this new proffered perspective, “thanks, I guess.”

“No problem,” he grins. “Your turn.”

“My turn?” You knit your brows in confusion, eliciting another laugh from your seatmate. “For what?”

“You answered my question, so it’s your turn to ask one,” he explains.

“I didn’t realise we were playing 20 questions,” you tease. The words leave your lips with a little more edge than you had intended and you wince. Why did you always sound so defensive? You glance at Mingyu and feel a slight sense of relief at the fact that he seemed not to have noticed the tone. 

“Well, if you don’t have any questions, I’m fine with being the hot, mysterious one in the house,” he winks and again you find yourself not hating how he looks when he does it. 

Still, you snort derisively in response. If only he knew how deeply not-mysterious he already was to you. “Hardly,” you reply. “Okay, fine. I have a question for you: why does The Notebook make you cry so much?”

Wide-eyed surprise ripples across his face, a tinge of red embarrassment colouring the tips of his ears, “who told you that?” he asks in a nervous half-whisper.

“Jeonghan might have mentioned it when I was moving in…” 

“Traitor,” he seethes, running a hand through his hair as he considers this revelation before answering you. “It’s sad,” he states plainly after a moment’s hesitation and you ‘tsk’, refusing the easy answer. 

“Lots of movies are sad, Mingyu. Why does this one in particular make you cry so much that I was warned never to watch it in the living room?”

He sighs again, heaves his chest in and out like an exasperated dog settling down for bed. You watch as he stares out over the river, wide brown eyes shimmering with the lights of the city, and wait for him to respond. You had never seen Wonwoo cry during a movie. You had barely seen Wonwoo cry at all. He kept his emotions held tight, whether for self-protection or because he really was just that steady you didn’t know, but Mingyu’s upfront expressiveness was a breath of fresh air. Seeing someone so open at every moment with how they were feeling made you feel a little bit less alone with your own rapid shifts in mood. Maybe you weren’t the broken one. 

“Fine,” he relents, “honestly, I know it’s corny. I know it’s a corny movie and it’s lame and dumb that an adult man with a job still bawls like a baby while watching it but I can’t help it. Seeing those two old people dying in bed together after reliving the tale of their love just gets me every single time. It’s a confusing mixture of sadness and hope and I have never been able to get through it without weeping.” 

“Wow,” you remark and he shakes his head. 

“Happy?” he huffs, again with an air of a disgruntled dog and you laugh.

“Very happy, thank you for sharing.” 

“Okay my turn,” he grins, leaning back against the bench once more, the wood groaning slightly under his weight as it shifts. 

“Good luck, movies don’t make me cry often.” 

“Well you’ve gotta have some embarrassing secret. Otherwise we’re on uneven ground, and I don’t like that.” 

“I’ve already told you something embarrassing,” you start to defend yourself but he shakes his head. Resolute. 

“What? About thinking you fuck everything up?” You nod and he laughs, “that’s not embarrassing, that’s normal. Everyone thinks they’re more fucked up than they are.” He shrugs and you again marvel at how casually he accepts the very thing that feels so earth-shaking to you. “Tell me your most embarrassing secret.”

“That’s not a question, it’s a demand.” you point out and he nods, considering the rebuttal. 

“Too broad? Okay, then what’s your favourite song?” 

“How is that supposed to be embarrassing?” you ask, aghast. 

“It’s not, I’m just curious. Not every question needs to be so heavy, you can get to know people through simpler things. Happy things,” he smiles again, coy, and your heart betrays you again with a flutter of wings against your chest. 

“I’m not sure,” you muse. He starts to protest but you cut him off before he can begin, “there are too many songs that I love to feel like I can narrow it down to just one all–time favourite. Too many things to consider.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like, what am I doing when I am listening to it? Is it a song I could listen to anytime, anywhere? Does that make it a favourite or just an easy listen? Is it a song that fills me with a swell of emotions? A favourite from high school that still makes me nostalgic? Or a recent song that I’ve played on repeat too many times to count? You see…too many things to consider.”

“Wow, you’re right,” he laughs again, “you really are an overthinker.” 

“Gee, thanks,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. 

“How about you just make me a playlist with all of the above and we’ll consider it answered?” he winks and you blink back at him, stunned to silence. Wonwoo never really got through the songs you would recommend to him, was Mingyu really going to go to the trouble of listening to an entire playlist? For his roommate? 

“Oh–okay,” you answer, unsure of what else to say. 

Silence descends for a moment, settling comfortably between you, and you glance around in surprise to find that most of the people that had been here when you arrived have since departed. How long had you been sitting on this bench talking?

As if reading your thoughts, Mingyu clears his throat. “It’s getting late,” he feigns a yawn, forearm flexing as he brings his hand up to cover his mouth, “but you have one more question to even it up before we start walking back home.”

You sit still, contemplating. While teasing him had been fun, an overwhelming part of you wants to really get to know him. To know what makes him tick. What thoughts and desires lurk in the depths of those puppy brown eyes. To find out exactly what it was about him that was drawing you in so much despite your (and Seulgi’s and Jeonghan’s) better judgement. 

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?” you ask finally. It feels like a silly question as soon as you ask it but you can’t take it back once it’s been spoken. And you do actually want to know the answer. 

“Is that your final question?” he asks and you hesitate but nod. You’re curious about what kind of kid he was. What his dreams had been before the demands of adulthood had set in. “Alright, but it’s silly,” he warns and you wait silently for his response despite it, “I wanted to own my own bakery.” 

“You wanted to own a bakery?” you parrot the response, surprised by his answer. “Really?” 

“I told you it was silly,” he smiles, voice a slight quiver. You hadn’t expected the answer, true, but it’s the nervousness around it that is really taking you by surprise. Like it’s kid Mingyu answering the question and not the 20-something year old adult you had bought you dinner. 

“No, no, it’s not silly, I just didn’t expect it,” you reassure him and the expression of embarrassment on his face melts back into neutrality. The wave of nerves slipping away into the ether. “Why didn’t you do it?” 

He shrugs, “my parents didn’t think it was a suitable career path for someone like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You bristle, feeling defensive on behalf of the kid he once was. 

“I never asked for clarification,” he laughs. “Just went to school for business like they suggested. Jokes on them, though, I can still make a mean sourdough.” 

“What can’t you do?” you mumble, intending the comment to be unheard but clearly failing as Mingyu throws his head back with a laugh before getting to his feet. 

“Well, what about you?” he asks as you join him and you both head back down the path towards the main road. “What was your childhood dream?”

“I always wanted to be an artist,” you say, “and I sort of am doing that now just in a more corporate-friendly way. Career was the one aspect of life that I always felt I had a handle on. There was no guesswork. It was just me involved.” 

“Your parents didn’t have any different thoughts as to what they wanted you to do?” he asks, a slight note of surprise colouring his voice. 

“Not really, no,” you shrug, “they were pretty supportive, honestly. I think the only things they really cared about was that I got an education and was able to pay for rent and food.” 

“That’s lucky, it’s nice to have such supportive parents.”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” you nod. It had never been something you had actively thought about, just taken for granted and assumed it was sort of the same for everyone. You make a mental note to call your parents soon and catch up as you and Mingyu leave the park and the river disappears behind you. 

“Would you ever bake something for me?” you ask, matching Mingyu’s stride as you take a turn down the block towards home. 

“That depends,” he replies, amusement clear in his voice.

“On what?” 

“On whether or not you want to hang out again in the future,” he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. You see a hint of blush reddening the tips of his ears again and it makes you wonder. Was it just the slight chill in the air causing it?

“Well, we do live together so I think that’s almost inevitable,” you laugh, trying to brush the niggling feeling off with an assurance that you did not feel. 

“True,” he concedes, “then I guess I will. Are you more of a sweet or savory person?” 

“That depends,” you reply, a small grin turning up the corners of your lips. 

“Overthinking pastries now too?” 

“No,” you laugh, all lingering feelings of defensiveness gone from you. “It depends on what you’re better at making.” 

“Oh, I’m good at it all,” he replies, voice smooth–silk slipping over mahogany–as he holds open the door to the condo complex for you. You glance at him, eyes meeting his in the dim light of the lobby, and study him for a moment. He’s smiling, cool and casual, but there’s a seriousness hiding in the depths of his expression that you can’t quite unravel. It draws you in, curiouser and curiouser, until you find yourself face to face with a crossroads. Two paths diverge in the yellow woods of your mind and the only thing that remains is to choose.  

“Then I’ll take it all,” you reply after a breath, thoughts slipping into place. Threshold crossed, decision made. You step into the lobby and head towards the elevator leaving Mingyu to trail behind. 

.

.

.

The condo is blessedly quiet when you arrive upstairs; everyone else scattered throughout the city with Friday night plans. The absence of Jeonghan in particular is a relief, you knew that no matter what the context was, if he saw you return with Mingyu at this time of night you would be primed for some form of lecture or another. Whether verbal or simply that knowing stare he likes to give you when he thinks you’re being stupid.

That silent cloud of judgement would have been especially intrusive tonight as you step in through the front door barely clinging onto the tenuous air of bravado you had conjured up in the lobby downstairs. It would have shaken your resolve to follow this thought of intrigue towards Mingyu and thrust you right back into your torrential thoughts once more, spinning haphazardly between mourning over what was lost and what might not ever be.  

Instead you stand with shaky confidence and a pounding in your chest as you bid Mingyu goodnight, savouring that look of intrigue you’re sure is mirrored in his own expression as you close your bedroom door for the night and bar any doubt from creeping in behind you. 

You listen through the walls as his own door clicks shut before rummaging through the unpacked duffel bag in the corner of your room. You dig through unsorted paperwork, unopened mail, random knick knacks you had found no home for yet until your fingers grasp the object you were seeking.

Sleek, black silicone emerges from the bag and you glance behind you as if Mingyu might be standing there, ready to chastise you for your impure thoughts. 

You stand up, hesitating, evaluating the vibrator as it sits like a brick in your palm. You had only used it once, years ago, after buying it at a convention with Seulgi before it ended up buried deep in the recesses of your drawer. At the time your sex life had been consistent and satisfying–it was early days for you and Wonwoo and the excitement and novelty of having each other at your fingertips for the whims of the moment had kept you too busy to even remember that you had the toy stored away in the first place. It wasn’t until you were packing to move out that you rediscovered it.

You hesitate for a second before thinking ‘fuck it, I paid like $200 for this, I’m gonna get some use out of it’ and slipping out of your clothes and into your bed. 

You try to set the mood in your mind, fingers swirling idly over your bare skin as you flip through mental images of celebrities, movie scenes, fantasies that you used to use to get in the mood. Anything to deepen that pressure that burned quietly inside of you. None of your old tricks produce results and you sigh, ready to give up on the activity completely, before you feel the distinct thud of Mingyu’s headboard against the wall. 

You imagine Mingyu: what is he doing? Maybe sitting on the edge of his bed, scrolling through Instagram, or maybe he’s under his covers too. Maybe he’s having the same thoughts as you? 

You follow this thought where it takes you, back to that night the other week. Back to the low sound of his moaning carried through the drywall and plaster, the thudding of his headboard against your wall, back to that yawning pit in your stomach that felt like it might swallow you whole at any second. Your hand traces the path of the scene playing out in your mind, blazing a trail down your chest, stomach, and finally to the aching space between your thighs. 

You recall the weight of Mingyu’s arm pressed against your back on the park bench–steady and solid. The sound of his voice and laughter muffling your gasp of surprise as you flick the vibrator on and jump at the sudden noise filling your room. 

You flick it back off immediately, worrying that the distinctive buzzing sound would carry itself through the cover of your blankets and body and make it through the proven-thin walls towards Mingyu’s ears. He would know for sure you were in here thinking about him, fantasizing about his lips on your neck. The thought of discovery adds a confusing stab of guilt to the knotting in your guts but you do your best to squash it as it pops up. What exactly were you doing wrong? You were tired of denying yourself pleasure out of fear of other people’s judgements or shame. You flick the vibrator back on, this time prepared for the noise, and dig the object deeper between your thighs. 

Maybe part of you wants him to hear you–wants him to know what you were doing alone in the dark in the bedroom next to him. Maybe, in this alternative timeline, he knocks softly on your door. His brown eyes rake over your naked body, bared to him like a gift prepared just for him. His sweatpants strain with the pressure of his bulge as his blood travels lower, and lower. Filling him with the desire as it fills you now. He steps forward, wavering at the threshold of your bed and asks, voice so low it plucks at the strings of your core, to join you. To help you release this coil of tension that had made its home inside of you, growing bigger and hungrier every single day since running into him half-naked in the kitchen that first night. Maybe he’s been running through this same scenario every night before bed, hand gripping his cock as it pulses in his hand, sweat beading his brow. 

Alternative timeline or not, the thought itself is all that you need to push you over the edge as you move the vibrator against your clit, finding the right rhythm of pressure, the right balance of relief, to feed the beast of desire crying open-mouthed inside of you. To have your legs shaking and your core pulsing with waves of pleasure no longer denied. You cry out, muffling the sound with the back of your free hand, and for the first time in years it isn't Wonwoo's face clear in your mind as you reach your climax.

© 2024, neoneun-au. all rights reserved.

―AUTHOR’S NOTE: i cant link them here, but please find the series masterlist and other chapters on my blog. i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far !

#caratlibrary #svthub #mingyu x reader #wonwoo x reader #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #seventeen angst #mingyu angst #wonwoo angst #seventeen fluff #svt x reader #chm updates

[theladywholivesonthemoon]

LUCID DREAM

warning(s): spoilers, lot`s of them. Just a lot of fluff, angst if you squint;

a/n: It’s a very short piece about the reader and Astarion. After watching so many baldur’s gate content I fell in love with Astarion and I hope I can portray him nicely here ;). Gif not mine.

After the battle has been won, Cazador dead, feelings confessed and a future together building slowly, he needs to breath. They find themselves sitting on the stairs of an old mansion they now have chosen to call home, the light of the moon coats the pale elf in a cold light, making him more ethereal than usual, while she watches him in complete silence. The promise of forever, braving the world together exhilarates him at the same time it scares. It`s all so new, this freedom. Shackled for 200 yeas and now he is free, yet he has no idea what to do. So many things come to mind at the same time, and at the same time none at all. He feels so much, and nothing at all, but-

“Astarion?” She prompts him softy, a hand coming to caress his cheeks, pushing a stray curl behind his ear.

“Yes, love?” Mirth coats his voice, yet she sees right through his attempt of charming her- she always does.

“Tell me, please?” The vampire smiles crookedly, turning his sights away from the bright moon and towards the cobblestone bellow. A great sigh leaves him and after twisting his fingers nervously, letting out a humorless laugh, he finally turn to her. He is faced with soft, welcoming eyes and a small smile as she gazes into his eyes. Astarion offers his hand and without much thought she places hers in his. He tugs her closer, their knees touching and another heavy sigh leaves him before he can speak again.

“It’s just- I’m free, right? But, it feels so… hard. I keep coming back to those moments before his death, all that anger, pain. I can`t just let go of it all, forget it. Sometimes I feel like I’m dragging you down, having to cope with this mess of feeling. And I know what you’ll say- ‘You love me and nothing will change that’, but sometimes it’s just, hard”.

Her looks shift, and before he can call it one of pity, she holds his hand tighter, bringing her other hand to entangle with their hold. “I know, and I can’t even begin to fathom all that you’ve been though and I’ll hate that bastard until the end of my days, but you can talk to me. All that you want to say, I’ll listen. I love you, Astarion. And I’ll love you through all hardships, that is what we promised, wasn’t it?”

He stares at her again, gazing deeply into her eyes, her soul, searching for any trace of falsehood, yet he finds none. He thinks it silly, how he still distrusts her on occasions, hates himself for it. He should be able to trust her completely, but 200 years of abuse impedes him. But, he braves though it, pushes though his distrust and meets her warm embrace, reminding himself in her arms of the love and trust they share, at lets go. His arms tighter around her waist as his mouth meets her neck, delivering a sweet kiss to her pulse point. She drives her fingers through his curls, petting his hair slowly.

“I wonder,” He says softly, voice slightly muffled, “what comes after. Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in a lucid dream, trapped in my place as the world turns around me. I know I have carved a new beginning in stone, I know we are together always, I know my undying love for you, for us, and sometimes it all eludes me. Like I’m looking through blurry water. I just wished I could be more for you. Give myself fully. And I swear I’m trying my best to be the new and improved Astarion, believe me. I just wished it was easier”.

She pulls back slightly, cradling his chin to twist his face slowly towards her. She caresses his cheek lovingly, love overflowing from her gaze. A soft kiss is placed on his forehead, his eyes closing as their noses brush in a caress. No words are needed, for she knows now is not the time for sweet words. She comforts him with her presence, her listening ears, for him to whisper his fears and anxiety, to brave through his negative thoughts, to live the wonders, to acknowledge his feelings, to express all of him. They hug for a moment as the cold wind of the night brushes their hairs astray, but it does not disturb their little corner of peace, away from the world. Then, she untangles from him, getting up and offering her hand for him to take.

“Let’s go inside, shall we? I feel rather chilly and would rather cuddle in our soft couch in front of our fireplace”.

He smiles, a big and true smile, like the ones he always gives her, because it’s her. Astarion takes her hand and she tugs him up. Crashing softly into each other as they let out quiet laughs. He tugs her close to him by her waist, delivering a sweet his to her lips, dragging his hands lowers until she pushes back, reprimanding him with a glare of false disapproval as he laughs loudly.

“Of course, my darling”. He delivers a kiss next to her ear, “I’ll be delighted to ravish you inside”. Astarion follows her inside while they both laugh. He delivers a delicate kiss to her mouth before he closes the door and is filled with warmth once again. No words are said, just small laughs, velvety touches and each other, for always.

#astarion #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate iii #fluff #everwritingannafics

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 21 (Tentacles)

Kink: Tentacle Sex

Pairing: Tentacle Monster x Male!Reader

Other Kinks: Roleplay

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1103 words

Kinktober Masterlist

“Oh my,” You gasp “-look at all this treasure! I guess I chose the right cave to explore. Just me, an adventurer all by myself.”

You cringe at your voice, hearing yourself repeated in the echoes across the cave walls. You were never the best actor, delivery a little too stiff and predictable. It doesn’t help that your improv is schlock, reciting the cheesiest lines from dirty books you’ve read in the past.

But the churring sounds around the corner suggest your lines, corny as they may be, are effective.

“I sure hope there's no big, strong monster protecting this treasure.” You call out, eyeing the nearby hiding hole. “It’d be such a shame, considering I’m all by myself,” You languidly bend over, pretending to look at the “treasure chest” in front of you, “-so defenseless.” Wiggling your hips, you turn toward the ‘chest’, popping open the top and pretending to coo at the fake bounty inside.

A satisfied smirk curls the sides of your lips when a familiar tentacle wraps around your ankle. Still playing as the oblivious adventurer, you ignore the creeping sensation that crawls up your pant leg, massaging your calf. You just wiggle your hips some more, pride and something else stirring in your gut when your partner churrs.

“Hmm, what's this?” You whine as another tentacle wraps around the opposite ankle, both quickly pushing up the bottom of your pants. “Oh no! A monster!” Your gasp is breathy and dramatic, paired with you throwing your hand to your forehead in woe. A thicker tentacle wraps around your waist, thoroughly ‘trapping’ you. “Let me go, foul beast!”

You fake slap the tentacle now pulling you towards your partner. Their chuckle reverberates against your skin.

Soon you're pulled into a rolling mass of tentacles, who don’t hesitate to fondle your body. Several crawl up your shirt, petting the skin and even flicking your nipples. Others easily undo the buttons of your trousers, quickly sneaking under the hem once your fly is down. You let out another breathy gasp, half real and half dramatic.

“Oh my goodness, what are you doing?” With all the indignation of a primadonna, you wiggle and thrash in your partner's hold. In reality the act only stimulates you more, lets the tentacles wrap around your limbs and hold them in place. You lick your lips, watching several tentacles pull down your pants and underwear, releasing your cock.

“I’m gonna have fun with you, traveler.”

A shiver rolls down your spine, the normally stuttered and shy voice of your partner especially deep and lusty.

Damn, they are a good actor.

“Ah!” You gasp, really gasp, as a tentacle wraps around your shaft. It squeezes tight as it slowly moves up the head, the tip playing with your slit. Already hard in their grasp, your head begins weeping precum, which the tentacle gleefully smears all over it.

You almost break character when the tentacle slithers off your cock, a whiny “Why?” on your lips. But then the tentacle slides up to your partner's mouth. They lean their faux, shining purple face down and suck on their own appendage, eyes rolling back. After letting go with a ‘pop’, they lean down next to your ear.

“Delicious.” They purr, their entire form rumbling against you.

It takes all you can not to melt in their tentacles right then and there, still trying to put up a ‘fight’.

But your partner doesn’t give you the chance to break, a quick tentacle wrapping around your cock once more as another begins circling your hole. You gasp again, this time quickly silenced by another wayward tentacle, shoved down your throat.

“Your noises are so pretty.” Your partner chuffs. “But I want to explore all of these holes.”

Tears bubble at the corner of your eyes, feeling your throat gag from the new intrusion. But you tap three times on the tentacle, the signal you are good to go forward. It may have been sudden, but the penetration is far from unwelcome.

You can see your partner smirk from the corner of your eye. The tip circling your asshole oozes lube, leaving faintly buzzing trails in its wake. The tentacle around your cock begins oozing as well, some dripping down to your balls as it jerks at a steady pace. That familiar grape flavor touches your tongue, helping suppress the gag reflex and ease your mind a bit.

Your hole stretches slowly open, the lubed tentacle so gentle despite your partner’s dirty talk.

“I can’t wait to see you, all fucked open on me. Dripping with me.” A tentacle lovingly strokes your cheek. “Wait a treat you’ve given me, adventurer.” The easing tentacle hits your prostate, your lower half overwhelmed with sensations from both sides. “A brand new toy to play with.”

Your cock twitches in their grip as they begin to jerk you off faster, another tentacle from underneath coming to fondle your balls. You’re slowly emptied out as they withdraw the tentacle in your ass, before shoving it inside with an emphasized “Hmmp!” Your moans are muffled, stuffed from the appendage still in your mouth, which stays still. Something you’re thankful for, as you’re not sure you have the brain power to fellate them properly.

Your legs spasm and shake, held up in mid air by two tentacles. You can see your toes curling, feel the electric shocks as they fuck you open. The tentacle stroking you keeps you on edge, going fast for some seconds and lingering on your head for others, playing with your sensitive spot underneath. Your balls tighten in their grasp, eyes rolling back into your head as your orgasm begins to creep up on you.

“Are you gonna cum?” Your partner pants, that more familiar desperation coming back to their voice. “Cum from my tentacles? All strung up, like a proper cum-slut?” They lick theit faux-tongue up the side of your face, tasting salty tears. “You came here for treasure, yet here you are— Some monster’s bitch.”

The snarl in their voice is enough to send you over the edge. Nearly numb from overstimulation, your cock jerks and semen shoots into ready tentacles. They lap at it like thirsty tongues, letting the cum drizzle over several as they fondle your cock.

The cavern floor is cool on your face, slowly lowering onto your stomach as tentacles leave your more sensitive parts. The ooze on your skin sinks in like a relaxant, your partner making sure to keep you comfortable.

“D-did you like that?” They pant in your ear.

You give them a lazy thumbs up.

“We’re definitely doing that again.”

#my writing #reader insert #monster x reader #monster romance #male reader insert #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #tentacle monster x reader

[onlycosmere]

REGARDING AUDIBLE

Brandon Sanderson: Hey, all. Brandon here, with what I consider to be some pretty exciting news. Many of you may remember when I wrote last year about my worries regarding audiobook royalties (particularly for independent authors). You can read it HERE, but some of the main bullet points are as follows:

I seriously worried about the opacity of reporting to authors about audio sales. We didn’t know what a sale meant, how much of an Audible credit was given to authors when a book sold via one, and how royalties were being accounted.

I felt that the industry was taking advantage of authors because of their lack of powerful corporate interests to advocate for them. While video game creators and musicians get 70–80% (88%, in fact, on two major platforms) of a sale of their products in a digital platform, Audible was paying as low as 25%–with the high end being instead 40%.

I felt I could have gotten a better deal for myself, but the entire state of this industry was seriously concerning to me. So, I made the difficult decision NOT to release the four Secret Projects on Audible, costing me a large number of sales, to instead try to bolster healthy competition in the space, highlighting some of the smaller Audible competitors.

I hoped this wake-up call would prompt change. I didn’t refuse to put my books on Audible out of retribution or to declare war; I did it because I wanted to shine as powerful a light as I knew how on a system that highly favored the audio distributors over the authors. I was convinced that the people at Audible really did love books and writers, and that with the right stand taken, I could encourage them toward positive change.

I’m happy to say that this stand has borne some fruit. I’ve spent this last year in contact with Audible and other audio distributors, and have pushed carefully–but forcefully–for them to step up. A few weeks ago, three key officers high in Audible’s structure flew to Dragonsteel offices and presented for us a new royalty structure they intend to offer to independent writers and smaller publishers.

This new structure doesn’t give everything I’ve wanted, and there is still work to do, but it is encouraging. They showed me new minimum royalty rates for authors–and they are, as per my suggestions, improved over the previous ones. Moreover, this structure will move to a system like I have requested: a system that pays more predictably on each credit spent, and that is more transparent for authors. Audible will be paying royalties monthly, instead of quarterly, and will provide a spreadsheet that better shows how they split up the money received with their authors.

This part looked really good to me, as I understand their decisions. I tried poking holes in the system, looking for ways it could be exploited, and found each issue I raised had already been considered. This doesn’t mean it’s going to be perfect, and people smarter than me might still find problems that I didn’t. However, I think everyone is going to agree the new system IS better. We will better be able to track, for example, how Audible is dividing money between books purchased with a credit and books listened to as part of their Audible Plus program.

It’s all very technical, but I have to say I’m impressed with the effort they have made. The people there listened to my complaints, and have tried to improve. I’m not at liberty to explain in its entirety their new structure right now, as they’re still tweaking it, but they did say I could announce its existence–and that I could promise new, improved royalties are on the horizon.

Now, before we go too far, I do anticipate a few continuing issues with the final product. I want to manage expectations by talking about those below.

What I’ve seen doesn’t yet bring us to the 70% royalty I think is fair, and which other, similar industries get.

Audible continues to reserve the best royalties for those authors who are exclusive to their platform, which I consider bad for consumers, as it stifles competition. In the new structure, both exclusive and non-exclusive authors will see an increase, but the gap is staying about the same.

Authors continue to have very little (basically no) control over pricing. Whatever the “cover price” of books is largely doesn’t matter–books actually sell for the price of a credit in an Audible subscription. Authors can never raise prices alongside inflation. An Audible credit costs the same as it did almost two decades ago–with no incentive for Audible to raise it, lest it lose customers to other services willing to loss-lead to draw customers over.

These are things I’d love to see change. However, this deal IS a step forward, and IS an attempt to meet me partway. Indeed, even incremental changes can mean a lot. When I was new in this business, my agent spent months arguing for a two-percent change in one of my print royalties–because every little bit helps. These improvements are going to be larger than two-percent increases.

Because of this, I will be bringing the Secret Projects to Audible very soon. I consider Audible to again be a positive force for the industry, and I have decided to shake hands with them. Audible has promised to release their new royalty system for all authors sometime in 2024, though I should be testing it in the next month or so.

And…if you’ll allow me a moment, I’d like to say that this feels good. It isn’t what I wanted, but I’d begun to think that nothing would ever change–that even my voice, loud though it can be, wouldn’t be enough. Yet change IS possible.

I know that there are plenty of people out there who are tired of hearing about me and my works (I’m sorry–I do have quite the group of evangelists, and we can be an enthusiastic lot). However, for better or for worse, I am one of the bestselling authors in the world. Historically, one of the best ways to change things in my industry is for authors like myself to force it to happen.

Feeling this responsibility, when I was first talking to Audible about these issues in 2022, I made it very clear that I wasn’t just seeking some quiet deal that gave me an individual advantage. I wanted to see positive change for all authors. And while I don’t think I can take sole credit, I do feel like my efforts this year have had a significantly positive effect. Soon every independent author who publishes on Audible (and maybe, eventually, traditionally published authors with the huge publishers–depending on what New York decides) will be getting a larger cut of the profit, with more transparency about how that cut is allocated.

So, for those who have been waiting until Audible had the Secret Projects, you’ll get your chance soon. I hope you’ll support them, and support Audible for their decisions. And thank you to all of you who shared the news about my problems with the audio industry last year; I believe that pressure really did help. This is a victory for all of us, because happier authors able to make a better living (particularly those authors who are struggling in the midlist trenches) make for a more vibrant world for everyone.

#Brandon Sanderson #cfsbf #audible #branderson #root #wob #kind of #long post

[elisysd]

5. We'll talk, then we'll cry, then we'll laugh 'til we're done

Masterlist - Previous - Next

Chapter soundtrack: TRUSTFALL - P!nk

Behind a Haas. Never in his career would he have ever thought he would end up behind a Haas. Not that he thought it was a bad team, he truly thought that both Kevin and Nico were fighting the best they could with the car they had. But struggling this much, in a car that was supposed to fight for wins, against one that was the worst of the grid hurt. It wounded his ego and the questions he had already answered hadn’t helped to ease the blow. So, seeing you, adjusting something on your microphone as you were talking quickly with a Spanish journalist, made him sigh. He was dreading your questions as usual but, a part of him was hoping that the chat you had a few days ago and your confessions had improved your relationship. He hoped that it changed something. He hoped he hadn’t been the only one to feel it. As he walked to you, he first noticed your apologetic and empathetic smile. 

“What a weekend for you Charles. Could you tell us more about what happened?”

“I don’t know, really. I feel like I’m repeating myself each weekend but… we have to truly sit and talk about the car and what we can do to improve because we can’t keep going like that. I had no feeling with the car, I was struggling in each corner. Truly one of the most painful races in my career.”

“Do you have any hopes for the situation to improve?”

“Thankfully, Fred already managed to build up a strong team spirit. We can all talk freely, that’s something that was seriously lacking before, so I trust Fred. We will bounce back and come back stronger.”

“Thank you, Charles.”

Getting out of the media pen, he was in a better mood than when he got in. It had felt nice to talk with you, even briefly and if Silvia had not pushed him to leave, he would have stayed. Your gentle smile had calmed him down. He shook his head, suddenly feeling very stupid. Now was not the time to start to develop a crush on you. He would only make a fool of himself, knowing perfectly that you would never reciprocate whatever feelings he could have. He breathed in and breathed out the hot hair of Florida before Silvia told him that he had to hurry to not be late for the meeting. He couldn’t wait to get inside, at least there would be AC. But he wasn’t excited for the meeting ahead. He knew it would be a long one. Fighting with a Haas was not supposed to happen in any way, shape or form. 

You were coming out of your post race debrief as the air felt cooler on your skin. You were tired. It had been a very stressful weekend between the race preparation and your nerve wracking interview with Charles. It had left you emotionally empty. Luc was a tough subject. One you hated talking about. You hadn’t much if you were honest. You had kept it bottled out inside of you, hoping that by not mentioning it, it would be easier to let yourself heal. It was stupid. And you were only seeing it now. You hadn’t been fair to Charles. He didn’t deserve it. And still, he had not judged you when you had explained what had happened to Luc. It felt good. But quickly, you felt scared. By talking about your grief, you felt a little lighter as if it was freeing you. But you didn’t want to be free. You didn’t deserve it. You wanted to keep Luc’s memory alive within yourself. You didn’t want to let go. You didn’t want to let him go. You didn’t want to forget him. And talking to Charles felt like it. You shook your head, trying to get a grip and decided to wander the paddock, fishing for information. That was what you loved to do. It was quite easy, you were just walking from one end of the paddock to the other, trying to see if people were available for a little chat. You were doing that a few times. That was kind of like your working out routine on race weekend. It was how you would get little insides from the teams, new and useful information.  

Though, you were a bit hungry. You hadn’t had the occasion to eat lately, busy with everything that was happening around you. A few biscuits here and there had made their way to your stomach but that was all. You could feel a migraine coming and with the sun still high in the sky and the air still hot overall, your visions start to blur. You barely had time to lean against a motorhome wall when you felt two strong hands grabbing your shoulders and a voice that was feeling so far away from your ears. You felt yourself being forced to sit down on the ground as the voice screamed for water. You felt the tip of the bottle against your lips as the fresh liquid was being poured into your throat. It didn’t take long before you started to feel better and that’s when you saw a red cap and two blue green eyes worryingly looking at you. 

“Nothing good ever comes out of Miami.” you mumbled sheepishly, feeling your cheeks redden. 

“That’s something I can agree with you.” the monegasque replied.

You tried to get up and stumbled. If it weren't for Charles' quick instincts, your face would have met the ground. His hands around your waist, your face close to his chest and his eyes intently looking at you made you feel suddenly very conscious of your surroundings. Trying to avoid his intense gaze on you, you tried to search for a diversion, anything that could break the intimacy of the moment. 

“Nice pants.” you ended up saying. 

“Yeah? One of my friends is a designer. He gifted them to me. They stand out, I wasn’t sure at first but…”

“It was sarcastic.” you cut him. 

“Oh.”

“You make questionable choices in every aspect of your life as it seems.”

“Come on, they are not that bad.” he defended himself.

“You’re right. They are worse.” you chuckled, making Charles do it as well. 

“I will blame the heat. You don’t know what you are saying.” he softly smiled. 

As you were about to leave him to go back to your hotel you felt him next to you. 

“Let me give you a ride. I would feel better knowing you made it home safely.”

“You don’t need to act like a knight in his shiny Ferrari, you know.”

“I would feel responsible if something was happening to you.”

“I’m a big girl.”

“A big girl who faints when there is a little sun outside.” he teased you.

“I don’t want people to see us together. I don’t want anyone to imagine that something is going on between us.”

“Do you trust me?” he asked. 

“No.”

“Well, you will have to because I’m not letting you walk away alone.”

You were about to reply when he took your hand in his and forced you to follow him.

“I promised I would show you that some people are decent human beings. This is me proving it to you. Accept it.”

Reaching the hotel, you still look awfully pale and you didn’t even try to argue when Charles told you he wouldn’t leave your side until he was sure you would be okay on your own. You found it stupid but you were so tired you didn’t send him away. It would have been useless anyway.

“You know,” you began arriving in front of your door, “ I can manage from there. I’m going to order room service, take a shower and work a little…”

“Not even in your wildest dreams. You won’t work after almost fainting. You are going to rest.”

You glared at him. Who was he to try patronizing you?

“I’m going to do whatever the hell I want after crossing this door. I don’t even know why you even think you can allow me to do stuff or not. You won’t be there to watch over me.” you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Do you want to test me?” he replied in the same tone as you. 

“What if I do?”

Quickly he snatched the card from your room, hanging loosely between your fingers and threw you over his shoulder as he unlocked the room and walked in. You didn’t even have the time to protest as you were already sitting on your bed as he poured a glass of water from your carafe. He didn’t even ask you before ordering two burgers with double portions of fries for you from the phone. 

“You are truly something else, Leclerc.” 

“I know.”

“Very humble with that.” 

He laughed, making you roll your eyes, slightly annoyed. Understanding he wouldn’t go anywhere, you decided to still work on what you had planned. You took your laptop out of your bag and opened it on a blank document on which you typed Imola 2023. You prepared a few documents like the race recaps, the track history and started to write some notes and highlight the parts you deemed useful. You could hear Charles muffles and his breath down your neck as you turned around, your left hand closing your laptop. You both stared at each other, waiting for the other one to flinch and give up. 

“I said no work for you.” 

“You’re not my boss.” you replied. 

“I might not be him, but I’m sure Jean would be exhilarated to know that a member of his team fainted in the paddock because she doesn’t know how to take care of herself.”

“I didn’t faint.” you corrected him, gritting your teeth together. 

“Thanks to me. Listen, there is a little break before Imola, you can rest. You don’t have to work right now.”

“I feel fine! And I want to prepare some stuff now. I have the weekend in mind, I’m in the mood to work and I surely didn’t ask for your opinion on that. You can leave, I’ve never asked you to stay.”

“Maybe you didn’t but I want to.” he argued. 

“You’re so annoying!”

“Great, so now you know what it feels like whenever I look at you!”

You hissed and turned your back at him. Maybe if you ignored him, he would leave you alone. As you opened your laptop again, it was closed almost immediately by his hand and you barely had time to process the situation that he took it away from you.

“That’s it! I’m calling the security!” 

You didn’t have time to do so as someone knocked at your door and as if he owned the room, Charles went to open it, said a few words that you could barely make out and came back, the trail of food in front of him. 

“I don’t want to fight…” he sighed. “Let’s make peace around two very greasy burgers.”

“Is that allowed in your diet?” you arched an eyebrow. 

“Will you release an article about me not following it properly?”

You shook your head in his direction. 

“Then we are good. And after this disastrous weekend, I think I deserve a treat.” he told you before taking a huge mouthful. A little bit more shyly than him, you did the same. 

Surprisingly, he was easy to talk to. You talk about many things, the sport's history and he tells you how much he loved Senna and how much he meant to him. He talked about his brothers, his friends and how one of his best friends was the dad to an adorable daughter whom he loved very much. He even was keen on showing you pictures of her. He talked about his life with such ease that it threw you off. He didn’t really know you but yet he trusted you with so many private parts of his life. He felt like an old friend, someone you had met in another life. You were not one to believe in soulmates but yet, he could make you change your mind. Maybe in a past life you were friends. Maybe in a past life you wouldn’t have made all the mistakes you made in this one. Maybe in another life, you had a family. 

You started to feel emotional and he noticed it. 

“Anyway… what about you?”

“What about me?” you repeated. 

“Tell me something about you.”

You sighed. You were much more at ease with making people talk about themselves than you were with talking about your life. 

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Why is your job that important to you? To the point that you don’t even want to be my friend…”

You gulped, fidgeting with your napkin. 

“That's all I have left. My parents don’t talk to me, my best friend has her own life, I travel most of the time, you know how it is. My job is the only constant in my life, the one thing that truly makes me happy. I’m alone. And it’s fine. I’m not saying that for you to pity me. I made peace with it. I’m alone, it’s a fact.”

“Having a good support system is so important for me, it helps me, it grounds me. I’m sorry you don’t have that.”

“You don’t have to. I’m fine, you know.” you smiled. 

He scooted closer to you, snatching fries on your plate making you whine in protest.

“So, you studied journalism.”

“No shit Sherlock.”

“How was it?”

“Fun. Tiring. I spent a year in New York to study there. I used to cover the Yankees’ games and the Knicks’. It’s fun how it had nothing to do with F1. I was supposed to meet an old friend there in the next few days.”

“No way!” Charles laughed. “That’s a funny coincidence, I’m going to New York for a few days as well and I’m invited to the Yankees’ game!”

It made you laugh as well involuntarily. That’s too big of a coincidence for you to keep your poker face. It seemed life had decided to play you by throwing Charles in every aspect of your life. 

“I didn’t take you for a baseball fan.”

“I’m not. But I like to discover new things. It will be fun, I’m taking my brothers with me.”

“I could teach you a thing or two about the sport if you’d like.”

You didn’t know why you said that and from the look on his face, he wasn’t expecting it either. There was silence. Uncomfortable. You checked the time and stood up, almost running to your suitcase, pretending to look for something as you’re unable to look him in the eyes. 

“It’s… it’s late and I have an early flight tomorrow. Not that I’m forcing you to leave but…” you stuttered. 

“You need to sleep. It’s okay, I understand and you’re right it’s late.”

You could see in his eyes that you hurt him. You didn’t mean to, of course, deep down you truly appreciated what he had done for you today. He cared and it had been such a long time since someone cared for you that you didn’t know how to take it. You closed your eyes and breathed in before getting up and looking at him. 

“Thank you. For today. I haven’t told you and I’m feeling so ungrateful when you went out of your way to make sure I was okay. I haven’t been the nicest and you didn’t deserve it. You’re a good guy. Maybe you were right, there are still decent men out there.”

He smiled at you and took a step towards you, putting a hand on your shoulder. That was the first time he had ever been that close to you, willingly. No accident, no fainting, just a calm and steady comforting hand on your skin. You shivered and felt your cheeks getting hot. If he noticed it, he didn’t comment on it. 

“Maybe you don’t want to be my friend but I want you to be mine. And I’m always there for my friends. Whether they like it or not.” he chuckled. 

“Why?” you whispered. 

“Because you look like you need one. And I like lost causes. I’m a Ferrari driver after all.”

That time you laughed. A real, big and loud laugh. It made him smile wide. You shook your head, punching him lightly on his chest. You went with him to your door and as you opened it, you both jumped noticing Marion in front of you. She was as surprised as you were. Her eyes darted between Charles and you, making you both uncomfortable. You could already guess what was going inside her mind. Charles sent you an apologetic look and avoided Marion as he left you alone. 

“Marion, I swear it’s not what you might think it is.” you rushed to explain. 

“Y/N. I don’t care. I really don’t. I won’t judge. I know how tempting it can be, just be careful. If you want to play with fire, you will get burned. These guys are pure gasoline on dry wood under a heatwave. One small ray of sun on it and it’s wildfire spreading for weeks.”

“You don’t have to worry. Nothing happened, nothing is happening and nothing will ever happen between Charles and I.” you stated. 

But for an unknown reason, you had a hard time believing in your words. 

Author's note: It's progressing. Slowly. But don't worry, they will get there. For now, I really do enjoy writing their banters.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

If you wanna be part of the taglist, let me know.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @thirstylion @cmleitora @charizznorizz @sltwins @boherahpsody @herondalism @roseamongthorns13

If you are tagged and do not receive the notifications, please take a look at your parameters!

#charles leclerc 16 #formula 1 #writing #fiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x oc #charles leclerc fanfic #cl16 #scuderia ferrari #ferrari #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc fic #f1 x reader #cl16 x reader #driver x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc

[my-head-is-an-animal]

The Climb

Summary: You're a scientist, an engineer to be exact. Called to a meeting you had no real right to be at, Optimus Prime takes an exclusive interest in you, but you can't help but ask yourself at every turn, Why?

Rating: 18+ 🌹🩸🍆

Story Masterlist

Chapter 4

‘No, no, this is unacceptable.’ Smith exclaimed in a meeting in the hanger.

     Optimus Prime stood in his usual spot in the centre, Lennox right beside me on the balcony at eye level to the Autobot, and a screen displaying the people responsible for making sure the official Plan A succeeded. There seemed to be a shared knowledge that it would fail, and more reliance was being put onto my plan.

     ‘You’re supposed to be finding a way to blow a hole in that ship, not planning to scale it yourself.’ Smith argued more firmly. ‘We gave you a list of perfectly suitable candidates, men who are trained to handle the type of mission you have proposed and now you’re telling us the world’s best athletes are not good enough, but you, a scientist who has never seen a day of hard exercise in her life, can. This is outrageous.’

     The room was quiet, I felt my fear seeping in, he might have been right, but I didn’t want him to know that.

     ‘Someone would need to train you.’ Colonel Morshower said from one of the screens.

     ‘I’ll take that responsibility, sir.’ Lennox stepped forward.

     ‘I thought you might.’ He nodded.

     ‘Now, hang on a minute.’ Smith interrupted. ‘You’re not seriously considering placing the fate of the world in the hands of a scientist, who quite frankly doesn’t even look old enough to have graduated college.’

     ‘I thought it was my physical capabilities and not my superior intelligence up for debate, Mr Smith.’ I shot, tired of the arguing, I just wanted to get started with my training.

     ‘You’re on thin ice, young lady, I’d suggest keeping your opinions to yourself.’ Smith growled.

     ‘And I would suggest you keep your outrage in check.’ Optimus suddenly spoke, startling Smith. ‘Dr Harding is our nominated candidate as well. She has far more to offer than your small mind can see. I will not ask any other to make the climb.’

     ‘You’re not serious?’ Smith scoffed.

     ‘Dr Harding, if your council is agreement, then every Autobot under my command is at your service to ensure you complete your mission. Whatever is needed, you shall have it.’

     ‘Thank you.’ I breathed, knowing with Optimus Prime in my corner, I couldn’t fail.

     ‘And what if she asks for technology? You would entrust a single human being with your weapons-‘ Smith went on.

      ‘I wouldn’t ask.’ I snapped, feeling the bravery that Optimus and Lennox had put in me. ‘That’s the difference, Mr Smith. I’m self-aware enough to know that I may be liable to abuse such technology, so I would never ask. If I did, I would only prove myself unworthy of their trust.’

     The room was quiet again and everyone was in agreement, I would make the thirty thousand foot climb and sabotage the ship that threatened to destroy Earth.

     The council agreed to swap Plan A and B around, devoting more resources to my ascent than to research into weaponry that could penetrate the ship’s hull. Lennox took me out every morning to the track to improve my stamina, I worked with Theo to try and reduce the amount I had to climb, and Optimus was familiar enough with the type of ship that he could guide me through sabotaging it from the inside.

     After the first month I found myself able to run ten circuits of the track and make the climb up the one hundred and fifty foot wall without too much trouble, but I knew I would need to push myself harder. One hundred and fifty was a fraction of what was being asked of me.

     ‘You need rest.’ Theo told me one evening while I was cycling on a machine and working on my tablet.

     ‘I need to keep pushing.’ I reasoned back. ‘I’ll never make it otherwise.’

     Theo just sighed and wandered out of the training hall, it was just as Optimus and Ironhide drove in as their transformed counterparts. Ironhide revved, before driving away. Optimus, however, remained as the blue and red truck for a moment before transforming into his natural state. I never would get used to the sight of it.

     ‘Dr Harding,’ he said, an air of disappointment in his voice. ‘You should be resting.’

     ‘So, I’ve been told.’ I sighed and got back to work.

     ‘Without rest, your body will not recover enough to make the climb.’ He reasoned.

     ‘I won’t make the climb if I don’t push my limits.’ I shot back.

     I heard him take a couple of steps before he was directly in front of me, kneeling down once again. His expression was one of someone who was not used to being disobeyed.

     ‘You must rest otherwise you will fail.’ His voice was deep and unimpressed, it was the same one he used on Smith.

     I swallowed nervously, eventually slowing down before coming to a stop.

     ‘Thank you.’ Optimus nodded, finding his composure once again. ‘Understand this, we all want you to succeed, but you must allow your body to catch up with what your mind commands.’

     I let a heavy breath go, putting my tablet down on my mobile desk and began to stretch my legs.

     ‘I know.’ I said, quietly.

     ‘Then why do you not stop when your friends ask it of you?’

     ‘Honestly? Because I’m scared.’ I admitted and felt the tears fall hard and fast. I slid onto the floor and let myself sob for a moment.

     ‘If you weren’t, then I would question your sanity.’ Optimus gently stroked the tip of his finger down my back, it felt like a whole human hand, he was just so big.

     ‘Can I ask a question?’ I turned to see his hugely complex features nodding. ‘Why did you ask for my opinion in the first place? Why didn’t you accept our presentation?’

     Optimus took his hand away, leaning on the ground. He seemed unwilling to want to answer the question.

     ‘I cannot answer your question, Dr Harding.’ He shook his head. ‘Not for lack of want, but rather lack of knowledge. I do not know what it was about you that had me so captivated that day, but it continues to intrigue me.’

     I frowned for a moment. ‘I don’t understand, you’re an Autobot, not just any Autobot, you’re Optimus Prime and I’m… I’m no one, I’m just a scientist, there’s millions of me.’

     ‘There is no one like you, of that, I am certain.’

     I swallowed again. ‘What are you telling me?’

     Optimus’s blue eyes scanned me. ‘I do not know.’

     He didn’t say anything else. Optimus transformed into the familiar truck and drove off in the same direction as Ironhide, leaving me to continue working and rest my body.

Optimus drove speedily towards the Autobot hanger, angry with himself. He transformed back into his natural form and stomped towards the open doors that looked out at the last remaining rays of light.

     ‘Didn’t go well then?’ Ironhide stepped forward where the others didn’t dare just yet.

     Optimus just grunted in response.

     ‘Look, if you like her, just tell her.’

     ‘It is not so easy, Ironhide.’ Optimus shook his head. ‘I do not understand why. Why her? Why a human?’

     ‘Can’t do anything about the heart.’ Hound spoke up. ‘It choses who it choses, we don’t often get a say in that. That’s what humans say anyway.’ He added.

     Optimus hummed in agreement once again. He thought briefly on how fragile she felt beneath his finger, he tried so hard to be careful not to put too much pressure on her body which was already feeling the effects of training so hard. Optimus couldn’t help but feel something internal groaning to touch her again, even just to talk to her for a while would have been a privilege he didn’t think he deserved.

     He hoped that Dr Harding would rest that night, she was pushing herself too hard and risking injury. If she continued the way she was going, she would almost certainly set herself back weeks and that was time they didn’t have.

If you liked this, please consider supporting me ☕ thanks for reading!

#optimus prime fic #optimus prime x ofc #optimus prime x reader #optimus prime #transformers

[squidpedia]

What was it like for you starting out as a beginner artist? How did you improve?

I mostly just incessantly practiced, experimented, and observed a lot for as long as I can remember. I grew up on a lot of videos going over tips and techniques for beginner artists and mostly just observed their processes and would try to bring them into my art. Othertimes I would just constantly experiment with my artstyle (what if I made the shoulders more defined, what if I changed the size of how I draw eyes, what if tried drawing different body types, what if I tried a pose with a lot more foreshortening etc etc). I tried to push myself a bit further everytime like maybe spending more time on the overall piece, adding backgrounds, drawing multiple people interacting. Drawing challenges also helped a lot I think since they pushed me out of my comfort zone or forced me to approach my art in different way than what I was used to. Things like “draw something using only one line and not lifting your pen from the paper”, or “create a bunch of random shapes using a colored marker and then turn them into characters/objects”, or even just dtiys challenges were great for this. A lot of the drawings I made from these didn’t really end up being things I was super proud of after finishing them, but thats fine since I still learned a lot and they still helped with improving. A lot of it was honestly just not being afraid to draw something I might not be happy with later in the name of getting that practice in and trying new things all the time.

I hope this is helpful, but I’m not too sure so I’m sorry if it isn’t, this is the best way I could think of summarizing it!

#pedia says stuff #asks #not drawing #so sorry it took a while to answer this #i had a bit of trouble putting it into words and was worried i was just defaulting to the usual answer of ‘i practiced’ #but this whole thing still might boil down to ‘i practiced’ so. so sorry i tried #i just got excited all the time over learning new things and still do #shoutout to younger me who excitedly got up at 5am to look up fun2draw tutorials so i could work on that before getting ready for school #shoutout to me in middle school who got so stressed out when people would watch me draw #so i just learned to draw really really fast as like a stress thing #also sidenote if anyone ever does the ‘omg you draw?? can you draw me??’ #hit them with the ‘sure here are my prices’. 90% of the time they will either back off or actually be willing to pay #i WISHHHHH i knew that in school instead of being too nice to say no

[thesapphireprincess]

Let’s talk about doing the damn thing

By doing the damn thing I mean actually working toward your goals with physical action

What is it that you want in your life? What do you truly want that will make you happy? I’ll tell you what I want. I want to be able to come home without a single worry about my necessities in life but it is more than that. I want to be able to walk into any store and not worry about the price tag, a life of abundance. I want to be able to wake up to an alarm by choice, I want the alarm to go off because I want to wake up at a certain time not because I have to be at this job at a certain time in order to keep a roof over my head. This is what I want. I want to be my own boss and run my own business, this is what I want. What is it that you want?

It’s always been my dream to be my own boss and run my own company since I was 9 years old. I am now 23 and I got a little lost through out the years, nothing too heavy just being surrounded by the wrong people. I always wondered why when I would cut off every toxic person in my life I would suddenly be focused on my future but then another test would come and I would fail that test and be lost again and unhappy. Friend groups are not for me. Friend groups are usually toxic and full of so much unnecessary drama. I always felt left out in friend groups. I think I’m meant to be solo until I am so stuck on my path that it would take a literal meteor to knock me off. I prefer to have friends but not a friend group. At the moment I don’t have any friends because as you can probably guess I cut them all off. While I’ve been in Texas I haven’t made any solid friends. The people I’ve met haven’t been too consistent but ig that is for the best. I am not meant to have friends right now. I would like to have a few friends but I want true friends not fake ones. If I was meant to have friends right now I would simply have them, am I right?

Let’s get into the main topic of this post “doing the damn thing”. Just recently I’ve come into myself in a way that I’ve never before. Being content with who I am and where I am. I didn’t say comfortable I said content. Even though I am content with myself I’m still looking for ways to improve and grow in every way possible in order to reach my goals. There are things that I need to do and that I am working on in order to create my dream life. I hope this makes sense. Ik what I need to do to be successful and I need to do more than that. I need to push myself harder not like a working mule because never that. I mean I can feel that I am being lazy in certain areas that I shouldn’t be lazy in. It’s a slight adjustment and it’s not going to burn me. Pushing myself to work towards my goals is so important to me. I want to stick to a schedule, be organized and realistic with myself. I want a balance of work, rest and fun. I’ve been dabbling too much in the rest part so it’s not balanced. I will fix this in time. I have figured out a good schedule and now I just have to try it out.

I want to be able to date the kind of men I want to date. I want to be taken out to really nice places with men who are well dressed, handsome, wealthy, generous, smart, and kind. A gentleman. I have the image of the kind of men I want to date and eventually be with but in return I have to become a women of means. Turning myself into who I’ve always imagined myself to be is something I want. I want to be seen as a woman not a girl. Becoming her requires not only beauty but brains and trust me I have the beauty thing down. I am working on the other half, the brains. Me becoming my Dream version has nothing to do with a man btw but I definitely don’t want to be single forever. I want to be in a healthy relationship and I’m not going to pretend that I’m perfectly ok with being alone for the rest of my life or being 40 with no husband or kids. If that’s what you want that’s fine but that’s not what I want. When I am 40 I want to have a husband or 40 with a husband and kids no in betweens. I want to get married in my mid or late 20’s and then maybe have kids in my early 30’s. I deserve love and I deserve to be with the man of my dreams. Hello like attracts like. I’m done dating men who aren’t what I truly want. I want a Bruce Wayne archetype minus the mommy and daddy issues. I mean the look: dark hair, handsome, young and wealthy. A Mentally healthy and wealthy man. I want someone kind and adventurous with the means to give me and show me true romance. I want someone who can give me a life worth truly living. I want the career, the husband, the lifestyle and family of my dreams. So I will become the woman of me dreams. I’m only 23 and a lot can happen in a year especially with hard work. I refuse to be stagnant in life, I refuse to waste my youth doing nothing and I refuse to waste all the opportunities life has to offer when you choice to knock on the door of your dreams. With all of this being said, stop being stagnant. Stop wasting your time and do the damn thing.

#level up #self improvement #entrepreneur #entrepreneurship #hypergamy #upscale dating #black women in femininity #black women in leisure #black women in luxury #spoiled girlfriend #spoiled wife

[kaijukat-art]

whats the best bit of art you have done or are most proud of

not sure if this counts but for last 6 months or so i’ve been pushing myself a lot more to try and improve, and just generally be happier with my work. i have an extremely bad habit of stunting my own art growth, as well as rushing through pieces and then being unhappy with the result

so i’ve actually been going back and redrawing some aspects of pieces, or full pieces, from the last year or so that have been bothering me, and it’s something i’ve actually enjoyed more than i thought i would!

i’m pretty proud of this giyuu redraw so far (before on the left, new on the right) it’s still a wip, and far from perfect, but i already feel a hundred times better about it. i got way too far into rendering the first time before realizing there was a lot wrong with it, but i was in too deep to be able to salvage it.

idk, i’m just very hard on myself about my work, and feeling like i’ve stagnated. so it just feels good to be reminded progress is possible, and pushing yourself to improve can definitely have results✨

#shoutout to kanzaburo you beautiful old bird you need no edits you are flawless and beautiful ily king <3 #my art #kny #tomioka giyuu

[m0tiv8me]

CHALLENGE:

Nov. 1st-30th push the excuses aside and start making those positive personal changes you’ve been giving yourself excuses not to start. Keep yourself accountable through regular postings and check ins and be part of an encouraging group helping each other stay on track.

HOW TO JOIN:

Start following the tag #noexcusenovember to keep related posts appearing in your feed! Next, write up your short term goal or goals for the month of November and post them on your blog or send them to @m0tiv8me. These can be as simple or elaborate as you wish but it should be challenging for you or something you’ve been wanting to work toward but have kept making excuses about. Simple examples include 15 min of any type of exercise each day. Or do X number of push-ups daily. Cutting back on certain junk foods or toxic habits. Drinking more water, going for a daily walk. Working on building a more positive mental perspective and so on. Or you can get very detailed with a very strict specific workout routine or diet plan. Giving up a bad habit or working toward setting a new personal best in something. Or maybe each week or day is something different to keep it fun and fresh for you. Don’t feel strictly tied to exercise or diet based goals only. Think of things you'd like to improve upon but always seem to make excuses about and then focus on trying to actively do away with those excuses for the whole month and make that thing or things happen each day.

This is meant to be self directed so you can tailor it to your own skill and ability levels without feeling too over or underwhelmed. REMEMBER, make it challenging but realistic to your own ability level. Don’t be afraid to stack multiple goals if your wish. For example my own personal goals will include: Drink 1 gallon of water each day. Do at least a 30 minutes workout each day. Which I’m purposely leaving general because I travel a lot and a gym is not always an option so it may include a broad spectrum of exercise types or varieties to fit my situation. And also getting up at 6:00am each day. To me this has been a challenge lately that I’ve been trying to work on and keep making excuses to myself. I know I can do this, it will be challenging but I don’t feel like I’m setting myself up for failure with unrealistic or unattainable goals.

HOW TO REMAIN ACCOUNTABLE:

This is the important part of this challenge. To help keep us honest and engaged accountability is key. I’m offering numerous ways the group can stay accountable during this challenge to hopefully fit various preferences.

Preferred Option: I’ll be scheduling a daily accountability post titled “No Excuse November” Day x/30” each day at 12:00am. I’ll tag all participants in this post so they don’t miss it. I encourage everyone to reblog and add their own content to it at any point in the day. The idea is to get an accountability chain going that’s easy to follow, view and partake in for the whole group. If you prefer to not reblog you can opt to just add a comment with a brief update on your efforts that day to still remain accountable.

Personal Option: Make a daily post on your own blog with pics or a write up or both highlighting how or what you did that day to work toward your goal(s) This can be as brief or as detailed as you like. Please use the tag #noexcusenovember in all posts related to this challenge so that others can more easily find them. Also tagging fellow participants is great to bolster accountability and help encourage and celebrate each others victories. I HIGHLY encourage anyone posting on their own to tag me @m0tiv8me to stay accountable so I don’t miss posts and can cheer you on.

Private Option: For anyone who may wish to remain private or not post or comment publicly I will have the submissions option enabled on my blog if you want to share there. Or feel free to provide updates to me through DM. I will briefly respond with some encouraging words to reinforce the accountability aspect. Submissions will NOT be shared unless requested to protect your privacy.

WHAT YOU WIN?:

Ultimately the hope is everyone wins by ditching their excuses for a month and kicking off healthier or positive habits. However as added incentive I’ll be doing my best to keep track of who’s staying most active, posting or sharing daily and remaining accountable. At the end of the month I’ll be giving some shoutouts and promos to the top 3 I felt were the most engaged and accountable and really crushed their excuses and made prominent progress towards their goal(s).

WRAP UP:

Of course people are welcome to contact me at anytime if they have any questions, troubles or feel they need help. If you see this challenge late or want to join in after the month has already started you are welcome to join at anytime. Just let me know and start posting, sharing and tagging at any time and I’ll tag you in the daily accountability posts.

THATS IT! This challenge is meant to be fun yet challenging and I fully understand life circumstances happen and sometimes things don’t go as planned. Please don’t quit or give up if you come up short on a day. I’d prefer people own up to an excuse or extenuating circumstance and remain accountable. Let the group encourage you and help you feel like you have the ability to get back on track the next day.

My hope is the support from the group will help keep everyone on track and I highly encourage positive messages and interaction in the daily post comments. Now let’s get to work and make positive progress through the whole month of November! No Excuses!!

*if anyone wishes to opt out of being tagged in the daily posts let me know.

#noexcusenovember #challenge #accountability #goals #no excuses

[crippleprophet]

any tips on doctors who just try to push physical therapy on you?

i have chronic muscle pain (hips + knees) and have already done 4 months of pt for supposed pfps (turns out i don’t have it) and it did absolutely nothing to help with any of my pain (i did a lot of stuff for strengthening muscles around my hips). i told the doctor that exercise doesn’t help and that i’m in pain the whole time and they didn’t care

god i’m so sorry you’re dealing with that, myself & tons of others have been through this experience & i so wish i had better answers for you. unfortunately as far as i can tell you’re at a juncture where your decision is basically whether to become a “noncompliant patient” or not –

you can try doing what the doctor suggests & continue putting yourself in pain through physical therapy with the hope that eventually the doctor or physical therapist will be like okay this is doing fuck all let’s try something else

if you’re in a position where this is an option, you can go to a different doctor, but they might just do the same thing

you can keep going to this doctor without continuing pt, with the knowledge that they’ll probably label you noncompliant & will likely treat you more like shit

i wish so badly that there was a certain response that would make them respect you, it’s a shitshow & a crapshoot & you don’t deserve this. you shouldn’t have to put yourself in more pain to receive healthcare & i’m so sorry the system is so fucked. it is always okay to stop going to physical therapy if that’s the decision you want to make, i wish it didn’t carry so many potential punitive consequences from physicians who think their word is god.

the best resources i can suggest are around resisting medical gaslighting; community support + experiences + theory around both noncompliance & exercise intolerance have been very affirming for me wrt like, i’m not making this up. it can also be helpful to journal or whatever to document how you remember your symptoms being worse after exercise, pt, etc so that if later you’re doubting you were “actually” in worse pain you can read back over your experiences.

the mindset that’s also been helpful for me is that even if pt would help, it’s okay not to do it. i don’t owe anyone an able (or less disabled) body, & not exercising doesn’t mean i deserve medical neglect; no one deserves to be in pain even if they’ve “brought it on themselves.”

again i am so fucking sorry. your pain is real, in the vast majority of cases if pt was gonna help there would’ve at least been some sort of improvement in 4 months, & so much current medical science including around physical therapy is rooted in ableist misconceptions. you deserve further testing & pain relief no matter the cause of your pain (or whether that can even be determined). my heart goes out to you & i can’t always respond quickly but feel free to talk about this more if you need to 💖💖

#physical therapy #exercise #noncompliance #medical gaslighting #exercise intolerance #asks

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hi MBTI-notes, I am an American masculine-presenting (potentially) enby in their early 20s trying to figure out my type so I can work on finding the right path. I have anxiety, depression, ADHD, a lack of socialization, and lack of life experience. I am confident that I am ISFJ or INFJ, and would like your insight into which seems more likely.

For ISFJ, I think I have immature dominant function Si because:

-I feel that I could be happy living a quiet life with my best friend as long as all my material needs are met without any stress. In other words, appreciating stability and quietly appreciating life. Feeling secure in life would give me confidence (on the flip side, I don’t often push my comfort zone because new = scary, though I’m working on it).

-I can be very insistent on following instructions to the letter. For example, even if doing step 4 before step 3 makes more sense, I will do step 3 and then step 4 because if someone wrote the instructions, then it must have worked that way in the past so I should do what has been proven to work/what I was told to do.

-I require a sense of familiarity to feel secure, and rely on past experience to make sense of things. For example, when I got a new job, despite receiving written instructions, I felt uncertain that I was going to the right place at the right time and doing things correctly until I had done it the same way multiple days in a row.

-I need to know the “proper” conduct or procedures to follow before feeling comfortable. For example, whether I should address my supervisor by their first or last name. I proceed very cautiously in new and unfamiliar situations, and don’t try new things because I am afraid of either failing or of being reprimanded.

-I am known for my attention to detail despite having ADHD. I make sure my work is typo-free and conforms to any relevant formats, such as APA, MLA, etc.

-I really dislike people who seem irresponsible, either by flippant attitude or failing to complete their work in the past.

-I easily conform to set ways of doing things and rely on authority figures. I feel directionless without being given explicit instructions or known procedures to follow. For example, I would require someone to tell me how they wanted me to put together a shelf in small steps (first go grab my tools from X location, then come back to the garage, then grab this wooden plank, etc).

-I ask redundant questions; even if I think I may know something, I often have to ask someone in authority or who knows the subject better than me before I am confident in that knowledge. For example, whether humans can lose 1 liter of blood and live or not.

-I like collecting facts, and feel confident when I can share once I know I have memorized correctly.

-I tend to ask a lot of “what” questions in conversation; clarifying basic facts as I try to keep up and trying to figure out what I can say for general responses. When I do talk, I can only really recite facts or things that happened. I don’t really have anything deep to say, or interesting insights, which I feel very self-conscious of. I’m worried people find me very simple.

-When I don’t want to do something, my sense of duty and sticking to my routine is often what makes it possible for me to follow through anyways, such as getting up for work when I dread going. However, this also makes it difficult for me to improve my situation. I find it much easier to keep doing things the way I’ve always done it, or at least accept the situation as-is, than try something new that might not work, and might even make things worse (such as moving somewhere new).

-I work hard, but I feel bad because it takes me twice as much effort to get half the results that other people can. I overwork myself because I feel like my time and effort are the only things of worth that I can offer, but also resent that fact.

-I have been criticized for being too unadventurous, inflexible, and oversensitive about minor physical discomforts.

For ISFJ, I think I have immature inferior function Ne because:

-I’m scared of unpredictable change. If something bad were to happen, like losing my house or job, I would struggle to figure out what to do.

-I feel trapped in my life, just going through the motions and checking off boxes, going from task to task understanding only the bare minimum and being forever stuck as who I am now, without the ability to improve myself or my situation.

For INFJ, I think I have immature dominant function Ni because:

-I am obsessed (negatively) with finding purpose; I feel empty and mannequin-esque without proper drive and direction. I know it’s unrealistic, but it feels like many of my personal issues would be solved by finding something that lights a fire in my soul. Until then, I have no hope for my future and daily life has no meaning. All I have are pleasant distractions, which I will look back on with regret because I will have not anything.

-I feel very detached from the world around me. This might just be the depression, though, since sometimes the feeling of detachment is a crippling feeling that I lack connection to anyone or anything.

-Nothing is ever good enough, especially myself. I can only ever see how I fail to live up to the person I want to be and have a hard time acknowledging what I do have. The fact that I have a place to live and plenty to eat isn’t good enough; I need to be smart, and charming, and talented to even think that I MIGHT be worth anything. The main thing that helps this is positive comparison to other people who are doing worse, which is not the right way to find self-confidence.

-One other thing that can help is being able to imagine myself as a character, at least when I can see myself positively. Would this scene be interesting, would it be meaningful? How would the audience react to me as a character? Would they like me?

-I am always worried about what comes next, though it doesn’t help me at all. Not being able to fully engage when things are happen means I don’t get the benefits of the experience, nor any sense of accomplishment.

-I think it’s important to delay gratification for the sake of the future, and see it as a failure when I indulge in momentary pleasures at the expense of my future self. For example, paying for an expensive meal now, or having more money for retirement.

-I am interested in speculating about potential implications (often people-based; such as whether X reaction means the person has Y or Z intentions, which means I can expect certain reactions from them later; or whether X behavior or thought means I’m a bad person), but I’m no good at it.

-I dislike people who are self-limiting, narrow-minded, shallow, and fickle. However, I'm trying not to be so judgmental, and have even started seeing some people who display these characteristics as better than me because they can function better socially and materially.

-I am scared of being called pretentious, demanding, unrealistic, and unfun. As a result, I have slowly eroded the quality of my personality and squandered my potential over the years by trying to be peppy, forgiving, approachable, and fun to be around. I never let myself express my interests in public (so I lost out on the preteen and teen experience of expressing and finding myself) and I sound stupid when I speak because I jettisoned my pretentious vocabulary.

-I’ve been criticized for being distant, overserious, and for overthinking too much.

-I have to re-process everything every time I recall it, especially if I need to recall a specific detail.

For INFJ, I think I have immature inferior Se because:

-I can be oblivious to my surroundings, which leads to me missing obvious details.

-I have a hard time adjusting to things in-the-moment; I need time to prepare. For example, I would need to know how to handle a bear attack ahead of time.

-I use sensory pleasures, such as overindulging in food, as a way of coping with stress.

-I used to envision my happiness as something that existed in the future, but as I get older and it fails to materialize (mainly because I 1) used unrealistic prerequisites to construct my imagined happiness and 2) never developed the necessary competencies to reach that future) I have started slipping into the trap of instant gratification. I want to try everything, meet people, be reckless, let loose, and actually have fun. I want to stop feeling like I need absolute control for life to go well.

For either stack, I have immature auxiliary Fe because:

-I rely on others for cues on how I’m supposed to feel or react to things. I find myself either empty or easily confused when trying to assess my own thoughts, opinions, or feelings about something even as small as whether something tastes good or not.

-I am overly influenced by others’ mannerisms, speech patterns, and moods.

-I hate how desperate I feel for connection and a sense of camaraderie. I often compromise my (already flimsy) sense of right and wrong in order to go along with what others want.

-I am paranoid about people disliking me and often hide/avoid when I feel like others have negative opinions of me.

-I find it uncomfortable bearing responsibility for things if it means people will have a negative opinion of me, though I recognize that one’s reaction to being blamed (rightly or wrongly) will also impact what others think of someone.

-I want to feel confident in my abilities, but I worry that I care more about being competent because it affects how others see me, and that I don’t care enough about it for “pure” reasons (ie. for my own sake) The same goes for wanting to help other people.

-I am deathly afraid of confrontation because it generates an unpleasant emotional atmosphere and I buckle under pressure. I allow myself to be pushed around and bullied because I can’t stand up. I’m torn between wanting to strive for my own goals (once I figure them out) and quietly carrying out the wishes of others.

For either stack, I have immature tertiary Ti because:

-When searching for an answer, I tend to skim articles to the relevant section, get my answer, and leave without trying to fully comprehend the subject matter.

-I am very lazy intellectually; I passively ingest things I enjoy and give up easily when something requires additional thought.

-I have trouble assigning priorities to different considerations, and am easily overwhelmed or confused by conflicting interests when weighing appropriate courses of action (ex. one person has a time-sensitive task they want completed, but another relevant party would be inconvenienced. The time-sensitive task has the potential for flexibility, but it would be better to complete it on time. Unsure how to proceed.)

-My thinking is generally very disorganized, and people can have a hard time understanding what I mean. In truth, I often lose track of my point or why I mentioned something or started on a certain topic.

[Addendum] One thing that I forgot to mention that probably impacted my development: my mother was extremely controlling. She insisted that I consult her before doing anything (even moving a chair to another room), that I do everything the way she prescribed, threatened to remove the bathroom locks if I ever used them (they were really only there for guests), and kept tabs on me through HS. Whenever I got hurt physically or upset emotionally—cue her dropping everything and rushing onto the scene as if it were a crisis. She tried to keep me happy and prepare me for the future, but she also took every opportunity to remind me how ignorant I was and how much I needed her. Even though she would say I was doing a good job, her constantly correcting minor ‘errors’, such as putting shoes on the "wrong way" or failing to laugh when I was "supposed to", told another story.

--------------------

I can see where the confusion comes from. If you're wondering why I highlighted some parts red, it's only to aid me when processing large amounts of text. I usually highlight any points that stick out to me as: weirdly off, out of place, illogical, contradictory, problematic, or requiring more attention. Afterwards, I can quickly review the points and put them together for analysis. The Fe and Ti sections are fine, so I'll focus mainly on the dominant and inferior.

One common obstacle I bump into during type analysis is "unreliable narration", when people make claims that don't quite add up. For example, you say: "I feel that I could be happy living a quiet life with my best friend as long as all my material needs are met without any stress." And then later on you also say: "The fact that I have a place to live and plenty to eat isn’t good enough; I need to be smart, and charming, and talented to even think that I MIGHT be worth anything." Which is it: Are you easily content or is it difficult for you to feel content? This is quite relevant to distinguishing Si and Ni. How can I get to the bottom of things when the truth remains unclear?

With regard to Si, you've done your best to make a case and it seems convincing, on the surface. However, one should always pause when the majority of examples add up to a very negative vibe that is more characteristic of a lower rather than higher function.

The evidence is trying to convince me that you are very "detail-oriented", yet I believe a more accurate description would be that you suffer from "detail anxiety". Generally speaking, a person who is naturally good with details not only has a deep appreciation of them but also doesn't tend to worry about them. Yet your relationship to details seems problematic rather than automatic, rooted in distrust/control rather than trust/mastery. Instead of using details in positive and life-affirming ways, you seem to merely use them as a means to some other end, such as avoiding mistakes that would garner you criticism. This defensiveness is atypical and reason to proceed more carefully in type assessment because it might be more indicative of Ti loop than healthy Si.

Would you agree that your approach to details is actually detail anxiety... and it perhaps stems from a deeper social anxiety… which perhaps stems from your mother constantly treating you as though you're not good enough? The part you added about your mother being very controlling is indeed crucial to the analysis. If you review everything you wrote through the lens of her parental influence, the bigger picture of your personality becomes more coherent.

You seem to have internalized her mindset to a troubling degree. The way she corrected and criticized you has led you to approach the world in an over-controlling way. The manner through which she exerts control seems to suggest some Si influence. Comparing hypotheticals, if you were both SJ, her way of educating you would resonate better than if you were high Ni bumping up against her high Si. Based on past cases I've seen, the relationship dynamic between you does seem to suggest some N versus S conflict, but more evidence is required to know for sure. Therefore, I think it is pertinent to know her type and flesh out exactly how her function expression influenced your function development.

As a reminder, people who haven't yet learned to use their dominant function appropriately tend to suffer from poor self-awareness (i.e. don't really know themselves and what they want) and low self-esteem (i.e. have difficulty believing in themselves). You exhibit both of these issues. One possibility is you've always wanted to use Ni but have been inhibited from doing so. The examples you gave for Ni don't exactly create a positive vibe either, but you seem to have a somewhat more innate understanding of how it operates than Si. Your mother's influence might have led you to believe that N is invalid or can't be trusted. Distrust of N among Ns is unfortunately quite a common affliction due to two facts: 1) Ns often suffer from minority status, and 2) intuition is much easier to cast doubt upon than sensing.

Let me pose this question: Which function, assuming you were to learn to use Si or Ni appropriately and optimally, would lead your personality development in the right direction and/or allow you to experience meaningful personal growth? I believe you have already answered: "I feel empty and mannequin-esque without proper drive and direction. I know it’s unrealistic, but it feels like many of my personal issues would be solved by finding something that lights a fire in my soul. Until then, I have no hope for my future and daily life has no meaning. All I have are pleasant distractions, which I will look back on with regret because I will have not anything."

Is there an unsilenceable force within you that wants more than what material life can offer? While this force is universal in humans and not exclusive to any one type, INFJ is the type that will experience the most pain and suffering from compromising it, whereas ISFJ is the type that most easily brushes it aside. This is one of the most glaring differences between the two types. However, the only way you can use this distinction to tell which type you are is to get in touch with who you really are, deep down. Perhaps you're not there yet.

ISFJs delight in what you somewhat derisively call "pleasant distractions". Pleasant experiences of concrete reality, especially when shared with loved ones and/or a larger community, lie at the heart of ISFJ fulfillment, which prompts them to build up elaborate routines and rituals to ensure their continuation. Hence, ISFJs are known to be "traditionalists" in the way they approach their routines and rituals as sacred. It seems you have very little understanding of this mindset given that there is no evidence of it provided.

The process of confirming the dominant function requires you to make an equally strong case for the corresponding inferior function. However, the case you've made for inferior Ne is particularly weak, with only two points, why is that? The first point you made is basically a non-point. Is it really unusual, abnormal, or unwarranted to fear big unexpected changes like losing a job or a house? I don't see how such a universal fear is indicative of inferior Ne. The second point, while arguably relevant to Ne, weirdly doesn't fit well with the inferior position. The evidence you gave for inferior Se, while also weak, is comparatively more convincing. Either you haven't understood the concept of inferior functions or you still haven't developed enough awareness of your inferior function to describe and explain its activities in detail.

For the sake of improving your self-awareness, I have to mention that an important stage in ego development is nurturing genuine adult independence. This often involves going through a difficult psychological process of differentiating oneself from parental, peer, and societal expectations. In other words, you need to learn what kind of person you really are apart from what your parents or society have inadvertently led you to believe you are. You don't seem to be there yet, though that's normal for your age bracket. It is my prediction that until you get there, you'll continue to suffer from the "detachment" you described.

You want to connect with the world better (i.e. use Fe appropriately), but how can that happen when it's unclear what it is inside you that the world should be connecting with? One vital aspect of personality development is learning about the gifts that come with your personality and not being afraid to express them. These gifts are what allow people to carve out a space in the world and find a sense of purpose that is well-matched to the core of their identity. Yet I struggle to get any sense of your gifts when reading your self-description. Your conscientiousness certainly shines through, but there should be more than that.

Generally, it seems you approach the world as though it is your mother, so you live in fear of its criticism - this is most likely the main reason you feel yourself and your life to be too small or too "simple". I suggest you take steps to overcome social anxiety in order to discover your true powers and express the more positive aspects of yourself, otherwise, you'll continue to feel uncertain about your type (regardless of how I or others type you) because you are not expressing the dominant function optimally. Maybe your mother simply doesn't recognize your gifts due to the blindspots of her personality type, or maybe the voice you've internalized from her has served to suppress the best parts of you, I don't know. In any case, it is never too late to try to get in touch with them.

At this point, I can't say for certain which type you are, though I lean more toward INFJ due to ISFJ having too many irregularities. I've highlighted some key points that need clarification or fleshing out, and I believe doing so should lead you toward the right conclusion in due time.

#typing #ask

[alwida10]

What's your opinion on the new Loki powers from the second episode? (Energy blasts and moving shadows, as I know you don't wanna watch it -- completely understand, it's really out of sync and tries its main character like shit)

Hi dear anon! 🤗

First of all - I’m so honored by this question!! I kinda considered myself an outdated part of the fandom since I don’t watch the show anymore, and getting this ask gave me such a warm feeling!! 💚

Before I start: I said I wouldn’t watch the show, and I did not, so all I answer here is probably a bit awkward, as half-knowledge tends to be. I did. see the scene in question in the trailers and base my answer on that. If I forget anything or don’t know I’m happy to get corrected or supplemented.

I assume this is the magic we’re talking about:

I saw four types of magic: the green blast, the illusionary doubles, ripping the temped from Brad’s hand, and the shadows grabbing Brad.

In the movies, Loki has often used illusionary doubles. To me, his powers in phases 1-2 have been an integral part of his characterization. A mirror so to say. Or like a curse turned to advantage.

Loki had been stolen from Jotunheim and made something he wasn’t? -> he can appear to be someone else to a degree not even the whole population of Asgard realizes it’s him when he poses as Odin.

Loki was ignored, shut up, and silenced by his family? -> he learns to hide himself from Heimdall’s eyes, and even turn invisible to the shield agents in Thor 1.

Loki was lied to about his heritage, how people treat him, and even his future? -> he learns to forge lies so well that they become illusions that make people believe the wine turned into snakes, Loki was standing in front of them, and many more.

Loki’s rage on him being locked away and forgotten to the point only a guard lets him know Frigga died? -> his rage manifests in a shockwave that destroys everything in his cell.

There are more examples, but my point is Loki’s magic was mirroring what was done to him. It’s adaptive, and telling.

Now, regarding season 2.

Many people criticized season 1 for having Loki work too little magic. Season 2 seems to be “improved” in that regard, but my personal opinion was always a bit more complex. I do agree Season 1 had too little magic, but at the same time, I don’t think any magic is an improvement. If they introduce him doing powerful magic we haven’t seen before it will always lead to the question of why Loki didn’t use that magic against Thanos or the minutemen that arrested him in season 1.

Why didn’t he use the green energy blasts and go for a knife? Why didn’t he magically rip the prune sticks from the hands of the TVA agents and instead talk down to them from a stone? Loki’s journey in the MCU has been long and that makes adding magic incredibly complicated.

But even when we look past this, his new powers imo lack the elegance of his former powers. What does the blast connect to? It’s a push, I guess. Loki was pushed around so now he can push as well? Okay, I guess, but it’s also a very stereotypical way to use magic. The Jedi do it, the Dragonborn does it, the Witcher does it. It’s standard. I don’t think the writers put much thought into it. The same goes for the telekinesis. No worldbuilding or characterization-based explanation. Just some power many fictional characters have.

So, last but not least the shadows. I must say, the visual of the horns growing was … distracting for me. It reminded me of a snail stretching its eyes. 🙈 but of all his new powers I do like this one the best. The connection to the character is shady at best (see what I did here? Bwahaha) but at least I could see Loki trying to get out of Thor’s and Odin’s shadows by learning how to control his own.

Did this answer your question? 😊 if not, do not hesitate to put a follow-up one in my inbox!

#anon ask #tom hiddleston #loki series negativity #mcu Loki #Loki series season 2 #magic

[sunny-likes-pokemon]

Performance

Serena is planning her next performance and is completely stuck. Can her friends help her get out of her own head?

AO3 • ff.net

I absolutely love Showcases. They felt like actual dance competitions to me as someone who danced competitively in high school and college. As a performer myself, I related so much to those girls giving their all and improving their routines over their season, the costume troubles, the fun rivals, the weird ones who took everything way too seriously and weren’t fun at all. I’ll be honest, that’s probably why I like the Kalos adventure so much! It was very relevant to my life at the time.

I’ve read criticisms that the routines were “the same every time” and "boring" and I just want to be like—do you have eyes?? Can’t you see the gradual progression??? The growth of personal character and skill???? The changes that make such a big difference, culminating in a final performance reminiscent of and yet entirely evolved from the start????? Bah.

So this piece is dedicated to little me, full of anxiety but dancing her heart out anyways.

Serena sat with her head in her hands, thinking as hard as she could.

She’d gotten notes from the performance judges after her last showcase, but how in the world was she supposed to incorporate them?

One note had said her routine needed more ‘dimensionality,’ that she needed to use all the space available on the stage, including vertically, for the best effect. Another had said the rhythm of the transition during the bridge of the song needed to be improved. 

And, most confusing of all, one note said that she was ‘overthinking’ her routine.

“What does that even mean?!” she screeched, burying her hands in her hair.

The Pokémon gathered nearby to eat lunch startled, Frogadier jumping to his feet with hands raised, Braixen whipping out her branch and looking for enemies.

“Serena?” called Bonnie from the campsite where she was watching Clemont make lunch. “Are you okay?” Ash, who had been watching the Pokémon, and Clemont, busy with cooking, looked at her as well, concern obvious on their faces.

“Oh, yes, just fine!” she called back, embarrassed that everyone witnessed her outburst. She had to leave, just for a bit, and pull herself together. “I’m just going to take a quick walk.” And she stood in a hurry and quickly walked away.

“Stupid, stupid,” she muttered, then took a deep breath. “Okay. One at a time. Timing.”

That just needed more training, right? The more she and her Pokémon worked together, the more in sync they’d be. They would have to practice every day, then practice until they couldn’t mess up. Then they’d be perfectly on beat. 

“Okay, next. Dimensionality.” 

She closed her eyes and imagined she was looking at the stage from the audience, but frowned and stomped her foot when she started mixing up directions in her head. “I need to see it,” she said, marching back to the camp. 

“Clemont!” she shouted when she got close, still marching. 

The inventor jumped and nearly dropped his ladle into the soup. “Y-yes?”

“Did you record my performance?” He hadn’t mentioned anything beforehand, but sometimes he did things like that to be prepared for ‘a situation precisely like this one!’

“Y-yes?”

She nodded and put her hands on her hips. “I need to see it. I need to see what those judges were talking about.”

“I’ll watch the soup, Clemont,” Ash said, standing up and taking the ladle. 

The inventor was so startled that he didn’t even try to show her a ‘Performance Improver Prediction Machine’ or something. He just dug around until he found a tablet, loaded up the video, then handed it to her.

She sat down on the ground and started the video, studying it intently. 

“Um, Serena?” Bonnie asked. 

“Yes, what is it?” she asked, not looking up. There was the starting move from Braixen. Hm, maybe they could use Ancient Power to push it higher? No, that would change the shape of it too much. Could Braixen learn to increase her range?

“Don't you want to sit at the table…?”

Serena hummed absently and nodded. Pancham’s acrobatics were impressive close up, but diminished at a distance. How could he gain altitude? How far could he jump straight up?

“Notebook, notebook,” she muttered, reaching for her backpack. She didn’t find anything and realized she didn’t have it on. 

“Here,” Ash said, handing her her bag. 

Serena dug through the bag for a notebook and pencil, then started taking notes. 

“How to visualize…?” she muttered, then started sketching out the ‘beats’ of the performance, the big moments she really wanted to linger on, as they currently were, then below that, how she could change them to make them more dynamic. 

They had three minutes to perform, starting from the moment their music started, which was a few seconds after they took their starting poses on stage. 

They had to keep the performance escalating through that whole three minutes, starting off interesting and keeping it that way before a finishing move that would be memorable—popular vote deciding the competition meant she had to stick out in some way. 

“Serena, the soup’s getting cold,” Clemont said from nearby. 

She hummed and nodded, then squeaked when someone plucked the pencil and notebook from her hands. “Hey!”

Ash didn’t look impressed. “Seriously, you need to eat. I’ll give them back when you’re done.”

She pouted and pushed herself up, dusting herself off and stomping to the table to sit. There was a bowl of soup waiting there for her, as well as some fruit in the middle to share and her water bottle. 

She quickly shoveled the food into her mouth, grabbing her water bottle and a piece of fruit before standing up. 

“Okay, done! Give them back!”

Ash did, his eyes wide. He gestured at his face. “Um, you’ve got some soup…”

But she had already gone, heading over to the shade of one of the big trees around the campsite and settling down. She had to figure this out. 

—

Ash stood there, staring at Serena as she plopped herself down on the ground again. 

“That…was Serena, right?” Bonnie said, scooting behind Ash and holding Dedenne close as if to keep him safe. “She didn’t get possessed or…or body-swapped?”

Clemont shrugged. “I guess she must be really excited about working on her routine.” He started to clean up from lunch and Ash quickly shook off his confusion and helped. 

Usually, Serena was the last of them to finish eating, taking her time and talking and laughing, and she always helped clean up. 

Ash had hoped to move further that day, closer to his next gym, but Serena didn’t seem to realize anything else was going on, focused entirely on rewatching her performance and taking notes. The day dragged on and on, and Ash eventually had to admit they wouldnt be going any further. “I guess we’re camping here tonight,” he told the others, who looked over at Serena with concern. Camping here was okay with him. It wasn’t like gym battles were on a set schedule like showcases were (even if he did want to get there as soon as possible). He, like Clemont and Bonnie, was kind of worried about Serena, though. 

They set up their tents, the boys helping Bonnie with the girls’ tent, then got ready for bed. Some nights they all played a card game or something before going to sleep, but as one-fourth of their group was so frantically occupied, none of them were really feeling it. So Ash said his final ‘good night’ to his Pokémon and returned them to their Pokéballs to rest (except for Pikachu, who had already snuggled up in his sleeping bag). Then he put his hands on his hips and frowned at Serena, still scribbling away. At least she was sitting at the table now. 

“Serena,” he said, walking over to her, “it’s time for bed.”

“Just gotta…figure this…” she mumbled. 

He sighed. He understood. He did. And he’d had friends have this problem, before, too—hyper-focusing on planning it ‘just right’ and not taking breaks when needed, not doing what they’d planned. 

So he sat across from her and drummed his fingers on the table until she looked up at him, blinking, her eyes bloodshot. 

“Ash?” she asked, her voice a bit rough. “What’s up?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You. It’s bedtime.”

She scoffed. “No, it’s barely even…” She seemed to notice the dark of the sky then, how Ash was in his pajamas and the others already gone to sleep. “Oh. I guess it is.” She bit her lip and looked down at her notes. “But…but I need to…”

Ash sighed and propped his head up on his hand. It looked like a little more help was needed. “What are you struggling with?” She blinked at him in confusion and he waved at her notes. “I’ve had friends compete in things like this before. I have, too, but just for fun.” He scratched his cheek. “Maybe it won’t be the best help, but I’ll help you.”

Serena smiled at him, her shoulders finally relaxing. “Really?” He nodded, preparing himself for a long night. Then Serena yawned, covering it with her hand and then blinking slowly. “Oh, wow, I’m tired. Um, would you be okay to help me tomorrow?”

A bit relieved, he nodded again. “Absolutely.”

He stayed up while Serena got ready for bed, not wanting to leave her alone in case she decided she wanted to work some more. She did go right to bed, though, waving goodnight to him before joining Bonnie in the girls’ tent. 

The next day, Serena seemed to be back to her usual self, helping Clemont with breakfast and making Bonnie laugh with a story about her and Rhyhorn when she was very little. They got back in the road, and then Serena came up to him. 

“Um, are you still okay to help me?” she asked. 

He pumped his fist. “Of course! What do you need?”

She brought out her notebook, but paused and chewed on her lip. “When you said you competed in something like performances, what did you mean?”

So he explained contests to her, how the trainer was called a coordinator and specifically showed off Pokémon moves and the health of the Pokémon themselves, and then battled another Coordinator in a flashy way. Also, all scores were all decided by judges and not the audience. 

“Interesting,” she said softly, tapping her lips with her pencil. “So they don’t do routines?”

Ash frowned. “Well, I mean, kind of, but they’re much shorter and not set to a specific song. Not very many moves, either. Sometimes just one! They also don’t do the same routine, but come up with new ones each time. They weren’t as…it’s like…ah, buddy, what am I not explaining right?”

Pikachu crossed his tiny arms as he thought, then jumped off his shoulder and got into a ready stance, nodding at him. Ash laughed. “Alright, a demonstration it is!” He closed his eyes, remembering the moves he’d used before and what he’d learned since then. Then he shrugged and called out, “Okay, Pikachu, Electro Ball, straight up!” Once it was in the air, he called, “Thunderbolt at it, then smash them both with Iron Tail!” What resulted was an explosion of sparks and energy, and a very charged-up Pikachu. 

“Pika!!” Pikachu cried, eyes wide and grin wider. 

“Wow!!” Bonnie cheered, running up to them. “That was so cool, Pikachu!!” Dedenne cheered as well, scampering around Pikachu. 

Ash laughed at his little electric mouse, all fluffed up and sparking like a very hyper puff-ball. “Pikachu, Thunderbolt to get rid of all that static!” He looked back at Serena as Pikachu fired off a bolt into the sky and shrugged again. “Sorry, contests weren’t my thing. We probably would have gotten points off for all that static build up making Pikachu look silly. Some contests wouldn’t have allowed three moves. And there would have been a bit more planning, but that sort of thing.”

She tilted her head. “So, a coordinator just calls out a couple moves that their Pokémon practiced? They don’t all perform together?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Coordinators kinda just stand there. They usually have nice outfits, but it wasn’t a requirement.” 

She hummed and thought for a moment. “Well, I guess it’s not my part I have questions about.” Then she opened her notebook and showed Ash the drawings she’d made of a stage, tiny figures in various poses with move effects surrounding them. “One of the judges said I needed to use the vertical space more, so I was trying to think of different ways to get everyone’s moves to go farther.” She sighed. “I don’t know if you can train for that, though.”

“Well, you could have them launch themselves off of Pancham’s Stone Edge and then use their moves to get themselves higher into the air,” he said. “They both could do that, right? And then they could do something flashy while they’re up there.”

“Hm, yeah,” she said, turning to a new page and scribbling a few words there. “Maybe Braixen could blast herself up…”

Ash nodded, trying to think of cool moves he’d seen in his various battles. They continued to talk, throwing out ideas of different ways to add to or change Serena’s routine. Once Bonnie figured out what they were doing, she joined in, although she quickly got distracted imagining how Dedenne could perform. (And then Clemont joined in, too, when Bonnie seemed to think Dedenne could learn Flying Type moves.)

They didn’t make it to a Pokémon Center that day, so they found another spot to camp for the night. Serena seemed much more relaxed, actually joining them for dinner and helping set up camp. 

It was only after Bonnie and Clemont had both gone to sleep (Clemont had made a new invention which had exploded spectacularly and then said he was going to bed early) that Ash realized Serena was bent over her notebook again at the table, scribbling away.

He sighed. He’d hoped their planning session would have relaxed her. He was kind of tired…would it be better to let Serena figure out how bad an idea it was to stay up late on her own? Would she even notice, though? 

And then he heard a little sniff and saw Serena rub one eye, then a few more sniffs as she rubbed her arm across her face. She was crying?!

He grabbed his handkerchief from his bag and hurried over to her, sitting beside her and holding out the square of cloth.

“Thanks,” she said in a rough, quiet voice. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” She kept crying. She used the handkerchief to muffle the few sobs that tried to get through.

Ash frowned, trying to think of something to do or say. He shouldn’t just let her cry, right? When he got upset, he stormed off and brooded for a while. Except when he was at home, where his mom wouldn’t let him mope—she’d drag him into making dinner with her or playing a video game or watching a rerun of his favorite Pokémon battles until his problems didn’t seem so big. And if he was really upset, she’d sit with him and hug him until he felt better. There wasn’t exactly a kitchen, game system, or TV around, though, so he couldn’t do those things for Serena (he also didn’t know if she liked video games, and she probably would want to watch something other than battle reruns). He could hug her, though. So he scooted closer and wrapped his arms around her.

She squeaked and went very rigid. “A-Ash?!”

“It’s okay,” he said, patting her back and trying to remember what his mom had said to him in these situations. “It’s going to be okay.”

She slumped against him. “Why can’t I think of anything on my own?” she whispered. “I can’t just use your ideas all the time. Why…?”

Oh. Well, that made sense. “You’re thinking too hard about it.”

A groan was her response. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Have you thought about anything else these past couple days?”

“I mean…no, not really.” Then she straightened and narrowed her eyes at him. “And hard to believe you’re telling me that, Mr. Battle-Every-Trainer-That-Makes-Eye-Contact.”

He shrugged. “I know this stuff. Sometimes I use what I know.” Then he frowned. “I don’t battle every trainer.”

“But you want to.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong . “We’re getting off track. You can’t just think about one thing all the time. You’ll paralyze yourself. Do lots of things, think about lots of things.” He sighed and looked around at their little campsite. “That’s one of the reasons I like traveling with people. I get too caught up in my own head otherwise.”

She snorted lightly. “You? Really?”

He smiled wanly. “Yeah, I’m…not the best on my own.” 

She had been smiling as if expecting a joke, but it faded as she seemed to realize he was serious. “But you always come off as so confident and mature…”

Ash barked out a laugh, genuinely surprised. “Really?” He didn’t feel any different than he had when he first set off on his journey years ago, and he knew he’d been a brat back then, all big dreams and desperation to prove he had what it took to be a good trainer. Then again, he’d learned so much since then, met so many people and seen so many things, traveled all around the planet and had more adventures than any kid could ask for. It would have been stranger if he hadn’t changed at least a little bit. “If I’m so wise and mature, then you should listen to me and go to sleep. Sleep isn’t something you can miss and still function normally.”

Rolling her eyes, Serena closed her notebook. “Fine, fine.” She went to stand up, but paused and then sat down again, a small frown on her face as she looked at the handkerchief in her hand. 

“…Serena?”

Her eyes met his briefly, her expression unreadable. Then she smiled, bright as could be, and held the square of cloth out to him. When he went to grab it, she put her hand over his, her gaze practically burning into his. “You’re incredible. You’ll reach your dreams and go even further beyond them. I know you will.” 

Before he could say anything, she walked away and off to her tent. He didn’t move for a while, just sitting there, confused as could be. 

But…it made him really happy that she believed in him. She’d been traveling with him long enough to see the kind of guy he was, and apparently she still thought he could reach his dreams, no matter how big. 

He believed in her, too. Once she stopped worrying so much and found her groove again, he had no doubt she’d go on to be the best performer Kalos had ever seen. He couldn’t wait to see it!

#amourshipping #satosere #my writing

[organised-kitty]

Tag 20-28 | 18/100 hours | 28/08/23

So basically this week I barely studied German, I only did like 2 hours in the entire week and I felt like a total failure to be honest. After careful analysis I realised I needed to re organize my goals, my plan, my study techniques and my mindset so I can make this work out the best possible. At this moment I’m in a stage where I feel like nothing works to help me get back on track but I need to see this as a period of experimentation to help me push forward. So this is my take on how to deal with failure and slumps in progress. (Inspired by selfcare-journey)

⭐️ Identify what’s not working

Personally, what’s keeping me from doing my tasks is the fact that I’m always feeling tired and I have frequent migraines; I have been sleeping less than 6 hours a day because of university and yet I haven’t done as much progress because I’m so tired, I can’t focus and therefore I worked very slowly which left me feeling lazier, very frustrated and unmotivated.

⭐️ Prioritizing health and self care

I think we have all been consumed at some point by the idea of toxic productivity where the one who works the most and sleeps the least is the best one, but ultimately enjoying learning and having quality study time will only be possible if we’re physically and mentally sane.

I feel hesitant to redefine my work hours because I feel guilty when I think of studying less, I’m scared of not meeting deadlines, but I already know that this toxic cycle isn’t working for me so I have to accept that it’s okay if I can’t study 8 hours straight, if I need more breaks than other people and it’s okay if I work slow, if I don’t grasp things quickly, it’s okay to fall behind..because I’m in the process of rewiring how I study and taking my time is better than not doing anything and giving up.

⭐️ Managing energy levels

Along with my horrid sleeping schedule this energy slump is also the result of me not eating throughout the day and then having a huge unhealthy meals later in the day, and it’s really affecting my energy levels. So I need to start keeping hydrated, doing light exercise, eating healthier and more regular meals along with having better sleep hygiene because honestly I feel half dead. I also need to go to a medical check up to figure out what’s the cause of my migraines.

⭐️ Dealing with procrastination

I think lately I really struggle with a sense of discomfort when I study because lately I associate studying with failure and frustration. So I think breaking my task into smaller bits might make it less overwhelming. When I was in therapy I learnt a lot about how to deal with intrusive thoughts and emotions so I will put some of those techniques into practice. I also want to work on self compassion and embracing the idea that even a little progress is a step closer to my goal, I think celebrating those small wins can create a positive cycle of motivation.

⭐️ Improving focus

For this aspect I will go back to the ultra short Pomodoro method. (10-15 min with 2 min break) Force myself to work for a small period of time and give myself a tiny break. It’s a pretty basic technique but the idea of this is to experiment and see how well it works for me, identify for how long I can work until things start to become difficult. I think the best breaks are those that keep you away from your phone, because 5 minutes of social media is a recipe for disaster. So I will try to do things like grab some water, stretch a bit, breathing exercises, clean my bag, walk around the room a bit, doodling, have a snack, so that I keep active but refreshed. I think being in a productive environment like a library or a cafeteria could also help to keep focused.

⭐️ Enjoying learning

Now that I’m coming across more difficult content I tend to get unmotivated, so I think the best strategy is try seeing it like a game, where I don’t focus on the learning outcome but rather focus on the process of understanding, problem solving and overcoming new challenges, perhaps that will make the journey more rewarding.

Reminding one self of why I started and connecting the connecting the content to my interests and real world applications could be really useful in boosting my curiosity and motivation as well.

⭐️ Active learning

My study sessions have turned into something very passive, just doing exercises and checking flashcards has become very boring. I think I need to re-incorporate more active learning techniques like writing in a journal in my target language and talking to native friends more.

Additionally I think I need to readjust my schedule and re organize myself so I can include these changes, track them and check for feedback, but this post is already long enough so I will make a separate one.

#studyblr #studyspo #study motivation #organization #studying motivation #studying #study tips #100 days of productivity #langblr #language learning #deutsch lernen #German #Germany #100 hours of german #deutsch langblr #light acamedia #mental health #executive dysfunction

[arimiadev]

2023 Year in Review

2023 has come and gone—it feels like it was just a week ago that my grandma was complaining that Thanksgiving and Christmas were too close together, and now it’s January. I spent the last 2 weeks of 2023 sick (I still am), which made it go by like a blur.

2022 was a fresh slate for me, with a new job, a new home, and new projects. 2023 was a year of finding a new rhythm—figuring out how I work best and molding my work time around that rather than trying to make myself go against the flow.

Working from home is truly a blessing and a curse. I do think that it has more positives than negatives (especially right now as I’m able to work while being sick and don’t have to take time off), but navigating around the negatives is tricky. The main problem I’ve faced, aside from lack of interaction with non-family, is that it’s harder for me to focus on work when I end up spending almost all of my awake hours at my desk, either for my fulltime job or for VN development or for relaxing.

I’ve had to mix things up, usually taking my laptop to other parts of the house or even working outside of home some days. Even if it’s only for a few hours, it helps reset the fatigue of being at my desk all day every day. It doesn’t always work, and one problem I ran into for most of the year was being unable to focus on writing. Art and scripting are more “mindless” for me, I can do them with a video or voice call in the background, but writing is something I’ve always struggled to concentrate on.

This year was my first year attempting NaNoWriMo, though a more casual version of it. A few other devs were also entering NaNoWriMo to work on their projects so I hopped on too. I wanted to use the hype of the event to push myself to focus on writing, and it worked! My goal was to hit 30k total words in the month across multiple projects—which is about what I write in half a year—and I hit it.

Projects

Canvas Menagerie continued to be my main project in 2023. I was able to release several new demo builds for the project, mainly redoing and improving artwork for the game. My art has been improving a lot the past couple of years which is a good and a bad thing—it’s good because I’m improving and it’s bad because it means I have to redo or edit older game art!

I was also able to finish writing Act 2, meaning that Canvas Menagerie is 2/3rds written! A lot of good progress was made on it this year and I hope to continue (and maybe finish?) that this year.

I also got a trailer for it by Hatoge, a fellow BL developer! It came out so nice…

My other main project for 2023 was Lost Lune, a project I started in 2022. It was meant to be a small-ish project for Winter VN Jam 2022, but I ran into some issues with the story structure.

Lost Lune is a story I like but have had a hard time figuring out how to put the world and characters into words. I have an understanding on how the plot progresses, but due to a few different reasons it’s been hard to actually write it. One reason has been the unconventional format for the story, with it flipping between the past and present in a linear way. The other reason I’ve had a hard time with it is the character personalities—Weiss, the main character, is much more forward, blunt, and promiscuous than characters I’ve written before. It’s also the darkest setting I’ve ever written in as it’s set in a post apocalypse.

Thanks to NaNoWriMo I was able to get over 9k more written for the story, leading to about half of the story currently being written. I’d like for the project to be finished this year, but it’s hard to say when.

A small project I worked on for Ludum Dare & Otome Jam this year was a short game featuring some of my oldest OCs, where you play as a witch returning home and helping her father’s delivery service. I wanted to make something more experimental than what I usually make and something just for me.

I ended up adding some extra features to it but never released the updated build, so maybe sometime in the future…

My last project for this year was Asphodelium, my Winter VN Jam 2023 entry. I’ve had a hard time describing it, but basically it’s a dark slice of life romance about the members of a disbanded adventurer’s guild after stopping a doomsday cult at the cost of killing their former leader who betrayed them. Hazel, the one who dealt the final blow, has had the hardest time moving on—until one day he’s approached by a man with the same face as their dead leader.

This was a story I got the idea for sometime in September and began writing on a whim in the middle of October and ended up writing a majority of in November for NaNoWriMo. I didn’t expect the script to get far but here I am, 40k words later…

I finished the script and most of the art in December but was unable to completely finish the game because I got sick before Christmas. Just another WIP to finish this year…

Articles

This year I didn’t make as many articles as in years prior, a trend that will probably go forward. I do still want to write articles on marketing and visual novel dev, but I feel like it’s a waste of time to rehash old topics or talk about social media algorithms and such.

One thing I started this year for articles was interviews with fellow developers, starting with my friend ingthing. I don’t want my articles to be just my own opinions, so I want to get more voices out there. In 2024 I want to do more interviews with other devs to share their views on development.

With a record high amount of games we had to judge for Spooktober VN Jam this year, I wrote up a post about my takeaways from the jam with some commentary from my fellow judges. I was blown away by the response the article received, with it being one of my top 3 articles of all time now.

My last blog post—I hesitate to call it an article—that I wrote in one frantic day somehow was my favorite of the year. After months of radio silence from Aniplex US about Mahoyo, the first TYPE-MOON (pure) visual novel to be released officially in English on Steam, I did a deep dive into why they had forsaken such easy money by refusing to market it. The end result? Well, we’ll probably never know why, but it’s clear that someone at Aniplex made the decision to not give a budget to their marketing teams for Mahoyo and instead let the fans market it themselves.

Art

This year was a bit sparse for full artworks, with a majority of them being for Canvas Menagerie. I got a lot more comfortable drawing his hair!

I also got more into Holostars EN this year with the introduction of the second half of Holostars Tempus, the Vanguard unit (but mainly Gavis Bettel). I was following Tempus from the beginning and was a big fan of Magni and Vesper, but Bettel won as my kamioshi. He’s also the only one in the snapshot above (for August) that’s fanart, as the rest are OCs.

Goals

2023 Goals:

Fully write Act 2 of Canvas Menagerie: Canvas Menagerie is currently split up into 3 acts, around 50k words long for each act. I was able to finish the first draft for Act 2 in October! It ended up being much shorter than I estimated, but that’s how things go sometimes.

Release demo for Lost Lune: …Well, this kinda happened but not really. I wanted to release a longer demo for Lost Lune as the current playable build is more like a teaser—it’s very short and only features 2 out of an estimated 20~ days. I did however end up reprogramming the playable build, changing the main character from a side sprite to being on screen with several other visual changes. I’m much happier with this direction for the game.

Write more consistent devlogs: This also didn’t really happen as my intention was to write an article a month, but with our physicals Kickstarter earlier this year, other things took higher priority. I also realized pretty early on in the year that I’m tired of writing about social media algorithms and want to write about more interesting game dev and marketing topics, like case studies and such.

Open a merch shop: This was the first goal I accomplished this year! It was also the easiest since it was already mostly set up. You can see the merch shop for my games here—I think it’s pretty cute.

2024 Goals:

Fully write Act 3 of Canvas Menagerie: Self-explanatory. I want to get to a first draft state for all of CM. I doubt I’ll be able to finish the game next year unless I get a whirlwind of inspiration as it still needs around 40-50k words, 25+ CGs, 5+ character sprites and more, but we’ll see how far I get.

Write more of Lost Lune: I was able to write over 10k this year for Lost Lune while working on other stuff and in 2024 I want to get close to finishing the script if not finishing it.

Release the full version & an artbook for Asphodelium: Due to getting sick at the end of December, I wasn’t able to fully release Asphodelium. It’s pretty close to being done so it shouldn’t take long to finish it. I also want to release a (digital) artbook for it, as I have a lot of design notes for the LI. It’s also been quite a while since I released an artbook so I want to try making one again.

Go to an out-of-town convention: All my life, I’ve only ever attended the anime conventions in the Memphis area. Despite Memphis being a big city, the conventions here…aren’t really ran by people who want to expand it or even really change anything, so for the past decade it’s been in stagnation. At Studio Élan we’re boothing at more conventions this year, and I want to help! I’m hoping to go to Offkai Expo this summer.

Share more VNs I like: Thanks to rejoining Tumblr in late 2022, I’ve become more acquainted with visual novel players over there and I want to talk more about visual novels that I play. There’s a lot of great games out there that people just don’t hear about, so I want to talk about VNs more.

I feel like in 2023 I was starting to find my “thing”—I really like talking about VNs and I want to share unheard of and underrepresented developers to others! I’ve become bored of making generic marketing articles but I’ve found joy in making posts in collaboration with other devs or sharing other VNs.

2024 is a bit of a scary year and has me rather nervous, but I hope we’ll all make it through it. I want to finish some of the stuff I’ve began and I want to share more lesser known visual novels.

I hope this year will be better for us all. Until next time!

— Arimia

#visual novel #my games #my art #Youtube