#I’ve been typing out for the last like 40 minutes this long long long thing just trying to wrap my brain around something

[octuscle]

Full time barista here I’ve always been envious of the men on stage especially the heavy weights. Don’t want to over work the chronivac but help me become a muscle bull as big as jean pierre fux.

Mate, I understand you only too well…. There are few things hotter than the real heavy beefcakes. I've tried it long enough myself… But I didn't make it either. Jean Pierre is a pretty good role model… But I have an idea…

Friday morning. It's 06:00, you have to hurry, in one hour you have to prepare the first coffee. You don't have time for much more than a few situps and pushups. In the bathroom you have to hurry. You need longer and longer to conceal your receding hairline. You are now 40 years old, slowly you just notice that you are getting older. If you go out tonight to party, it will take you almost the whole Saturday to recover. The cosmetic industry has nothing effective to offer against the wrinkles in the corners of your eyes. And even if you don't need to be ashamed of your body: You won't gain much more muscle in your lifetime.

Shit, at 07:00 o'clock people are already queuing up. You hate it when you can't open the store in peace. But as it looks, it will be 10:00 o'clock, until you have the first moment of rest. In fact, it's even 10:30 when your colleague thinks you can take a break. If you need it, he adds with a wink. You look fantastic today! You take a mineral water and sit down in the warehouse. In fact, you feel pretty damn good right now. You drink the water in one go. You don't have much time for a break. And you have to piss again before the lunch business starts. Your lower jaw drops as you wash your hands. Fuck, what happened to you. There are no more receding hairlines or laugh lines. You look ten years younger than when you got up today. The only difference is that you look as if you'd spent the last ten years doing little else but lifting iron. Your T-shirt is almost blown up by your biceps and pecs. And your jeans look like they're painted on your monstrous legs. How could you not notice that? As you tie the apron back on your way back to the counter, you wonder why you were just amazed. Since your 20th birthday, you've spent every spare minute at the gym, investing every penny you earn in protein and supplements. Hell, if you didn't look the way you do, you would have wasted a hell of a lot of time and money.

The calm in your coffee bar begins to subside again. The lunch business is starting up. There's a beefcake in your line that makes you jealous. Yo, bro! he greets you. It's nice to see that there are real men working here, too. What you can recommend to him. You suggest the protein bomb. A scramble of 10 eggs with 400 grams of chicken breast. He grins and nods. And a liter of still mineral water. The bro shares your taste. While you type everything into the register, he asks you if you're all-natural. Of course you are. With the money for the meal, he slides you a card. In case you want to think about it.

It is 17:00 o'clock, when you tie off your apron. Fuck' according to your watch you have walked 12,000 steps today on the few square meters behind the counter. But it also looks like it's been a pretty good day so far. You're 20 now, and the idea of opening your own café with healthy and, above all, protein-rich food came to you when you were 16. That's when you started getting into high performance bodybuilding. And a place like this was missing at that time. And then you built this place with your mentor and trainer as a straw man. But you can't stand behind the counter for more than ten hours. Even if you are the best advertisement for your products, you have to work out at least four hours every day. Otherwise you don't stand a chance on the big stage.

You might not be one of the big ones yet… But you are on a really good way to get there. You met Jean Pierre Fux once at a fitness fair in Germany. A great role model for you. And he said that at your age he would have been a linnet compared to you. The prerequisites for a brilliant career are there. Enjoy it and make the best of it!

This and other hot pics @anton227ludwig

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #male transformation #muscle transformation #tank top #inked man #age reduction

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 4 - North Greenwich Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 3 Summary: Neil's brief disappearance does nothing to extinguish the sparks. As he returns, you make a series of discoveries about each other and grow ever so much closer. Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language, ridiculous amounts of flirting as per usual. Buckle up bc we're amping the pace a little... ;) Author's Notes: Well... that was a long break between the chapters 🙈 My apologies, turns out that having a job takes away the little joys in life like writing silly stories. Anyways, here we are, at last. With another 10.7k. And this one's packed with many good, fun things ;))) Some of those scenes had been months in the making (if not years, considering I first mentioned this AU to Shet in like 2021? I think?). So, yeah. They had it long time coming. More cameos, more nonsensical POV changes and, above all, more certified idiocy by them two kids. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

What Neil’s departure from London did not do was change the way things worked between you. Although you only had meagre information about his whereabouts (such as that he was within the same time zone but in a different country), there was no sense of a breach building in the space of that strange yet solid connection. With the anxieties surrounding the imminent ‘Don Quixote’ premiere keeping your blood pressure high daily, you more than enjoyed being able to pick up your phone and message him whenever possible.

He did not always respond immediately, but it was not a must. What mattered was that Neil eventually got back to you. Never disclosing any information about his work trip, apart from the fact that it was warm there even in mid-October, he still made the effort to keep up with your antics. In that sense, the insanity of the date you had risked changed absolutely nothing.

But it also changed everything.

It was as if your free will chose to conspire with the soul’s desires to get what they wanted. Namely – Neil. Because as soon as you had even begun considering breaching the line separating friendship from every other kind of relationship, your brain decided it was done.

Being his girlfriend was not on the list of priorities or wants, but getting in his pants definitely was. It was almost freeing to admit.

The only question left after all that soul-searching was whether Neil wanted you like that, too. Sometimes there were no doubts about that, either.

Almost a week in, with the ballet previews looming on the horizon and no chance of sleep anytime soon, you huffed an annoyed sigh and picked up the phone from your bedside table. Bleary eyes registered the hour (five past midnight) as you opened apps randomly, already giving up on the promise of sleep. It took you another few minutes to make up your mind, open the texts and stare at the conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours since the last exchange concerning the warmth of the climate wherever he was. You had been (fruitlessly) trying to make Neil send you a picture. Of himself. Not necessarily without clothes, but that was the dream. And a girl was allowed to dream, right?

Squinting at the screen, you hesitated for another millisecond before typing out the simple question:

/ 🏹, 00:15 am/ Are you missing me yet?

Neil did not make you wait for long.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ Obviously.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ I’m barely coping here, sunshine.

/ 🏹, 00:29 am/ Gee, you’re making it too easy.

/✝️, 00:30 am/ Making what too easy?

/ 🏹, 00:33 am/ Missing you.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ See, I thought my cheeky line would get a lukewarm response, so I was prepared to tease you further.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ And now I’ve no quips to offer.

/✝️, 00:39 am/ Apologies. I’ll do better next time.

/ 🏹, 00:40 am/ I’ll make sure of that.

/✝️, 00:42 am/ And what punishment do you propose?

/ 🏹, 00:43 am/ I’ve always wondered what you’d sound like if you begged.

/✝️, 00:44 am/ It could probably be arranged.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ I’ve no qualms about getting on my knees for a beautiful woman.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ But that would hardly be a punishment.

/ 🏹, 00:48 am/ Yeah, but if I let you have that and then left you… on your knees, so painfully hard with no release… How would that feel?

/✝️, 00:51 am/ You win this one.

/✝️, 00:52 am/ And yes, I’m blushing. Fiercely.

/ 🏹, 00:59 am/ Good, I was hoping you are. Goodnight, Neil.

As you hit send on the last message, your head hit the pillows with an audible ‘oof’. Your cheeks burned; the blush invisible in the dark yet still very much there. That was the problem with Neil and your chats. It was impossible to say when they would turn in that direction. When you would both lose control and follow a line of conversation that probably never should have happened. Not that you were complaining.

It was good to know what you could expect from Neil. If things happened the way you wished, they would. Admittedly, he’d look good on his knees. That was a fact.

That night you only got five hours of sleep, but who counted it anyway. What mattered was that you had some excellent dreams. Dreams that you hoped would end up prophetic.

On other days, your conversations were a little more serious. Like that early afternoon when you just finished the final in-costume run of the Cupid variation and exited the ROH to wander the streets of Soho. Whenever you felt close to losing your sanity, the walk around those familiar spots always did the trick. It was easier to breathe, to hope that you would not fuck it all up when the curtain call came. To believe that imposter syndrome was nothing more than a vile bitch.

Sighing against the thoughts muddling your brain, you took out the phone and immediately noticed the new message:

/✝️, 1:49 pm/ How’s the garden of the Dryads coming along?

/✝️, 1:50 pm/ It probably goes without saying that you’re my favourite ballerina.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ Damn, that’s high praise. Especially considering that I’m the only ballerina you know.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ I think the garden is coming along nicely. Not so sure about Cupid, tho.

/✝️, 2:08 pm/ I call bullshit on that.

/✝️, 2:09 pm/ I just know that you’re brilliant.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ Doubt, she said.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ ‘Cause like… How do you deal with the overwhelming weight of expectations?

/✝️, 2:18 pm/ I mean, I panic and lose it instantly, but generally speaking, I think you just sort of… ignore it and trust you are good enough.

/✝️, 2:19 pm/ I know that you are, Cupid. This role was made for you.

/ 🏹, 2:22 pm/ Elaborate, please. I need my ego stroked.

/✝️, 2:23 pm/ Well, she sorts of saunters onto the stage and has a minute to dazzle everyone, yeah?

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ Which is exactly what you did to me.

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ You’ve got this.

/ 🏹, 2:26 pm/ God, you’re irreconcilable. Better come back so I can force you to sit through this.

/✝️, 2:27 pm/ Working on it as we speak.

A smile painted itself on your face with an inerasable stroke of brush. Neil’s constant support and cheerleading were a welcome surprise. Sometimes, your meeting almost felt like a divine intervention. That is if you believed in such things. Because the odds of gaining both a fascinating man to pursue and a friend were quite low. And yet.

As you looped your steps back towards Covent Garden, you made the mental note to visit the box office and add a request for the guest list. It was a rare enough event to have someone you could invite to the performance. And have the right to believe they would come. You were not going to squander that sort of chance.

***

The whirring ceiling fan was starting to get on his nerves with its endless sputtering. And it was not even working, as far as Neil was concerned. The sweat still clung to his skin and trickled down his back to a point where he seriously contemplated ditching the shirt. And that rarely happened. Especially not on the job, with the whole squad confined to a medium-sized safehouse.

The bustle of the city streamed through the windows, cracked open so they could let in fresh air while still having a chance of keeping them safe from snipers and the like. Granted, one could never be fully prepared for an inverted shot, but it was worth trying not to get killed. Especially during a mission that technically was just a recon. Though Neil knew better than to believe The Protagonist when the man claimed something was perfectly safe. He meant well, sure. But despite the appearances, he did not know everything.

So, the windows cracked open three inches had to do. Neil sighed, annoyance digging deep beneath his skin to stay there for a little longer. It was another one of those boring, yet technically productive afternoons in the safehouse. Today, the task was to plan a hypothetical pincer movement. Just in case, they said. Well, Neil sure did hope the case never came to be.

He glanced at the blacked-out screen of his phone, the muscle memory betraying him as he picked up the device almost mindlessly and opened the conversation with Cupid. It had been a few hours since the last chat, which was pretty usual. They did not need to talk all the time. Neil knew that. He also knew that it was probably better they did not talk constantly. Considering that 3 out of 5 conversations always ended up dirty, up to the point where he was blushing like an idiot. And, sometimes disappeared in the bathroom to deal with some troublesome effects of those chats.

Yes, considering all that, Neil knew it was best they took some breaks. But also-

“Blondie, can you give us a hand with this?” the yell from further inside the apartment acted like a bucket of cold water tipped over his head unceremoniously.

Neil whipped his head up, glaring at the open doorway. Unfortunately, being referred to as ‘blondie’ was becoming more frequent. The petulant nature urged him to ignore it, but he knew that was hardly the last one. With another long-suffering sigh, he heaved himself out of the armchair and called back:

“I said I’m coming,” granted, that was over fifteen minutes ago, but everyone could get distracted. Right? “Would it hurt you to ask nicer?” he stalked down the corridor toward the living area with an arched eyebrow.

It was not surprising to meet a mirroring expression on the faces of Ives, Wheeler, and Jeremy sitting in a trifecta of judgment. Neil had no doubts about his place in that makeshift courtroom.

“Yes, when you’re slacking,” Wheeler dropped the disapproving glare with all the air of nonchalance and pointedly glanced at the table covered with maps and blueprints.

Neil had no choice but to sit down in the remaining chair and offer an apologetic pout to anyone willing to hear him out:

“I’m not slacking. I’m just-” whatever excuse he could whip out on a whim got interrupted prematurely.

“Otherwise occupied with your girlfriend. Yes, we know,” Wheeler raised her head once more with a dismissive wave of hand, making Neil consider the possibility that she was close to losing it right there and then.

That possibility was always worrisome, for no anger could compare to that of his friend. Especially when she was pissed off.

But that careful consideration was nothing in the face of the two realisations brought forward by that simple assumption. Firstly - Cupid was decidedly not his girlfriend. Secondly – fucking Ives.

Neil glared at the man in question, hoping his eyes would reveal the murderous intents hidden underneath as his clarifying statement broke the awkward silence:

“She’s not-” he never finished that sentence (perhaps for the better), for the harsh sound of his ringtone filled the room with cacophonic clamour. Neil scrambled to pick up the phone without as much as glancing at the screen, “Hello?” the tentative opener sounded ridiculous even to his ears.

Soon, it was clear he should have checked the caller before picking up.

“Hi, Neil,” Cupid’s silky tone caressed his ear through the device.

Neil knew she did that purposefully, solely inspired to make the idiot inside him blush and giggle like a loser. Make no mistake; Neil was certainly a loser. And an idiot.

Once he felt the shock pass enough to ensure he would not drop the phone he repeated the greeting.

“Umm, hi,” from the corner of his eye, Neil could see the accompanying trio stare at him without trying to be covert about it. Absolute assholes “You’ve never called me before” trust him to state the obvious.

For a second, Neil considered faceplanting onto the table. Equally, the idea of jumping out of the window sounded appealing. The thoughts of potential demise were interrupted by Cupid’s reply:

“I know. I just thought it might be fun to spice things up,” she was definitely enjoying this and the damage she has caused. It was audible in the lightness of her voice, the vowels curled by a cheeky smile he could hear as she asked, “How’s your day?”

No longer happy to ignore his audience, Neil turned towards them with another glare. All three stared back, with Ives going as far as shooting him a knowing smile.

“It’s fine, except for my team being desperate to berate me,” Neil directed the venom in his voice at the trio as Wheeler casually got up from the table and put the kettle on.

The light chuckle from the phone almost made him feel better about it.

“That’s rude,” her remark contrasted with the laughter he could hear in her voice. Yet it was too late to raise the alarm or prepare for what would follow, “Would it be better if I reminded you what a good boy you are?” as soon as Cupid finished the question, Neil felt the full-body reaction she wanted.

A shudder ran through his spine as his face flushed pink. On a last conscious thought, Neil leapt up from the chair and paced towards the window, hiding from the group. A half-swallowed groan broke through his mouth as he tightened his fist, hopelessly trying to forget how those two words sounded on her lips. It was pathetic.

The more tragic outcome was that now Cupid had even more blackmailing material in her arsenal.

“Jesus Christ, you’re evil,” Neil knew he still sounded wrecked.

There was no way of hiding that. Of making her forget this had just happened and the conclusions she could draw from it. Neil barely resisted the urge to smash his head into the window.

“Oh, so it would help,” as expected, Cupid sounded delighted by what had transpired. The cheeky smile he liked way too much was undoubtedly present on her face as she added, “Not so dully noted” may he rest in pieces, apparently, “When are you coming back?” the question sounded almost out of place.

Yet even in his muddled mind, Neil knew it was genuine. That she wanted to know. If that fact meant anything at all, he did not know. And he tried his hardest not to think about it too much.

“Why? You miss me?” ignoring the chorus of ‘awws’ behind his back, Neil allowed himself to ask.

Even if only for emotional validation. Because while she has hinted at it before, Neil was never tired of being reminded. The whole thing with her might have been hopeless, but it did not change how he worked. How his heart ticked and what beat it chose. Tragically, romanticism was tricky to get rid of. Neil experienced that first-hand.

“You know that I do,” Cupid did not mind humouring his whims as she offered a simple admission without a fight.

With all his predictability, Neil could not hold back the idiotic grin from making an appearance. Sure, it had no future, but that did not make him less eager to play along. What’s the worst thing that could happen? Famous last words and all. Probably.

“I should be back in a week. More or less,” that was the hope, anyway.

The few stray thoughts that had somehow escaped the web spun by Cupid, and her attention reminded him about the work still left to be done. Like the fucking pincer movement plan. With threebastards taunting him mercilessly. So much fun.

“Fab. I got you a great seat for the premiere, so… You know what to do,” the hopeful note in her voice was worth the future pain.

He had no doubts about it. The fact was that Neil was looking forward to the ballet. The hazy memories of seeing ‘Swan Lake’, aged six, hardly compared to the Royal Ballet company. It was a good enough reason to attend. The other excellent reason was Cupid herself, but that was best unsaid. And unthought. Somehow.

“Got you,” ignoring the ridiculous thoughts, Neil offered her a smile she could not see and a silent prayer cast into the heavens that he was not lying unknowingly.

“I know you do. You’re a good boy, Neil,” Cupid’s strike came with no warning.

Yet again, she dropped her tone a notch and whispered the damned two words with a breathy sigh. The metaphorical nail to the coffin this time was how she said his name, almost caressing the letters. And yes, this time it worked, too.

Neil had the mind to faceplant into the window and groan with frustration. The inescapable blush warmed up his cheeks as his body shivered. Some… particular parts of his physique also showed interest in what was happening, eternally oh so eager to betray his wish to stay unbothered.

“For fuck’s-” the choked curse got swallowed by the mightiest effort on his side as Neil took a steadying breath and asked, “Why?”

As if happy to punish him, Cupid laughed.

“Because it’s fun,” the unspoken duh made him both more annoyed and more bewitched by her, “I’ll let you work now, but…” as did the carrot dangled in front of his face like the sweetest of baits.

Always the idiot, Neil could not possibly ignore it.

“Yeah?” he could hear her take a deep breath as if steeling herself for a difficult admission.

“I’m glad we’ve met,” Cupid whispered the confession without as much as a pause between the words.

“Me too,” his reply got lost in the static as she hung up.

Letting out the breath he did not know he was holding, Neil lowered the phone onto the windowsill and stared at the city outside. Well then. The call would take a while to process; that was unquestionable.

“Aw, aren’t you two cute?” Ives’ teasing threw Neil out of that pleasantly fuzzy mind space with all the grace of an elephant.

He turned around with the glower at the ready. This time, he could not bite back the curse:

“Shut the fuck up,” on an afterthought, Neil added, “Please,” noticing the soldier open his mouth for a quip, he dropped his tone to a warning timbre. That called for a final caution, “Unless you want to start looking for a new physicist,” his glare slipped over the trio before Neil settled at the table and unfolded the blueprints without another word.

***

When that awaited text from Neil came, bearing the information that he was back in London and happy to meet you whenever you did not jump for joy. Definitely not. What you did do was grin and discuss the possible rendezvous immediately. When that Tuesday afternoon arrived, with the glory of a decent rehearsal and a good coffee in your paper cup, you happily bypassed the crowds at Green Park and skipped the steps down to the correct platform.

That twenty-minute walk to the station was a blessing, just as much as a curse. When Neil proposed the time you could meet on the train, you did not correct him about your location that day. Or that grabbing the Jubilee line would be entirely off the quickest route back home. You just accepted the time and place and ignored the voice at the back of your head reminding you that this was not how you usually behaved.

It could go fuck itself.

Once you settled on the platform, one glance at the watch told you the next train would be the right one. The strange giddiness sparked in your veins, but you blamed it on the three-week gap between the meetings. It was just that, nothing more. Obviously.

The autopilot carried you through the motions until you had boarded the carriage and came face to face with the cause of all this idiocy. Neil smiled, instantly clocking you before you had even placed both feet inside. It was impossible to keep your face neutral, returning the grin and manoeuvring around the commuters to sit next to him on the three plastic chairs facing the sliding doors.

Then, as if seized by insanity, you propelled your body forward with the arms coming up around Neil’s neck to embrace him tightly. His freeze took approximately twenty seconds to thaw as he returned the hug with equal strength. You could feel the warmth of his breath hitting the crook of your neck and making you fight back a shiver that would not do. Instead, you let yourself breathe him in, rest in the moment that was potentially a mistake. Still, you were not going to treat it like one. Not when the warmth of his hands seeped through the clothes as they rested on your waist.

When the lurch of the train reminded you of reality and all its flaws, you ruefully disentangled from Neil and met his wary gaze. His blue eyes scanned your face as if looking for clues towards the reasons for the madness you just allowed yourself. When that offered no answers, Neil broke the silence with a careful observation:

“I didn’t know that we’re doing hugs,” his impassive face offered no clues either, triggering a wave of uncertainty you had to smother.

Because what if you went too far? What if that was not what Neil wanted?

“We are now,” the confidence was missing from the statement, making you add a crucial question, “Is that okay?” you could hear the insecurity in your voice, betraying the worries.

They disappeared the moment Neil flashed you a smile, his hand lightly patting your knee as a complement to the simple reassurance:

“Sure is,” lowering his gaze to catch yours, Neil winked.

Thank fuck. It surely made life much easier. Or the plans you might or might have not made regarding him. Now that the crisis had passed, you shifted in the seat to find a more comfortable position and allowed yourself a selfish look, measuring him up as usual. The slight tan line revealed by the rolled-up sleeves confirmed what you did know about his disappearance. The minor tiredness in how he carried his body strengthened your guesses. The rest of him blinded you as always.

Especially the three buttons left undone, revealing a strip of his chest. And inspiring ungodly thoughts in your head. Ignoring that what could not be addressed. Especially not right now in a carriage full of people. You switched your attention to the other crucial topic. Everything was better than being arrested for public indecency. At least you did hope so.

“How was the trip?” you noted the shift in Neil’s posture.

How he strengthened in the seat, the mask back in place. Although his mystery had fallen into the background over the acceleration of your dynamic, it was still very much present. You had to figure him out. Had to crack the case. Even if it killed you.

For now, though, simply asking mundane questions had to be enough.

“Well… it was fine. The usual” the answer did not help much, however.

Neil looked as if he knew how enigmatic it sounded but could not do anything about it. Upon your questioning look, he only shrugged and offered no further details. This time, you could not let the moment pass without a comment. You rolled your eyes, a frustrated huff interrupting the silence with petulance:

“God, you couldn’t be any less mysterious if you tried,” although anger was not one of the present emotions, you knew Neil would understand the message as you glared at him without heat.

He winced as if admitting to the guilt you hinted at and turned to you with a more open expression on his face:

“Sorry, it’s uh… maybe one day,” Neil met your gaze meaningfully, making you keener to believe him.

You held his gaze for a beat, even if only to have an excuse to look into his eyes and see Neil without the veil of pretence. It was easy to hope one day he would tell you more. That there was one day, somewhere along the line, waiting for you. That whatever was happening would not burn to a cinder in two weeks and leave you bereft. As things like this tended to do.

“I’ll hold you to that,” before breaking the eye contact, you reached for his hand.

It was another insane reflex that was difficult to explain, even to yourself. Yet, still, Neil went willingly. His long fingers tangled with yours without resistance and allowed you to rest your joined palms between the seats, almost like a beacon to whoever was curious about your meeting. And you could see the nosy stares, the inquisitive grandmas eager to judge and label everything and everyone existing within their vicinity.

You used the warmth of your connected hands to anchor you in the present as Neil asked:

“How’s the imposter syndrome? Did it fuck off at last?” the softness in his eyes could undoubtedly be fatal.

As was the way he knew what to ask and hit the jackpot without even trying. Because, of course, the feeling of not being good enough did not disappear. Of course, you still got up every morning with the vague desire to approach the ballet director and tell her you are giving up. That you cannot do this. It almost seemed like Neil could sense your thoughts.

Which was both terrifying and appealing, if you were to be honest. It would make your job easier if he knew exactly what you were thinking. About him.

“I wish,” the suffering sigh was a cheap trick, but viable in your books, “I still think I’m going to embarrass myself, but well,” not willing to give up the comfortable weight of his hand in yours, you offered Neil a one-sided shrug “Can’t exactly capitulate now” the desperate edge to that sentence did not escape his attention.

Sure, you would not actually give up, but that did not mean you were not half-heartedly wishing it happened anyway. Ideally, in the form of someone else doing the job for you. Pathetic, innit?

Neil squeezed your hand, capturing your attention without needing to try at all. The frown was still present on your face, its force turning the corners of your mouth downwards. As always, Neil seemed to see through all that you were not saying. He met your gaze (which was a feat considering you were happy to look anywhere but at him) and spoke:

“I wouldn’t let you,” there was an edge to his voice, a steely resolve that told you the conversation was gaining another layer.

A different destination to the one you had expected at first. Although, with how your chats recently played out, it was to be anticipated. Probably.

Without giving yourself the time to overthink, you leaned closer to Neil and placed a hand on his thigh. You could see his eyes widen upon the move, the pupils blowing up in the quickest form of flattery a man could give you. Sharpening your smile to the perfectly saccharine variant, you delivered the prepared lines:

“Oh yeah?” his thigh muscles tensed underneath your hand as Neil’s mouth fell agape without him being fully in control of the reaction. It was adorable. And an ideally ripe ground to lay the final strike, “You’d force me? Have your way with me?” the sparks in his eyes were a pretty addition to the already gorgeous picture.

At that moment, you knew that you had missed this. No texting could ever replace the real thing. The back and forth with the arresting strength of his eye contact and the unpredictable suspense of what would come next. Like the sudden softening of Neil’s features and an unexpectedly tentative counter to your bold questions:

“If you’d let me,” he swallowed hard as if desperately trying to get rid of the thoughts in his head and simultaneously unable to shake them off.

As if ripping the thread connecting him to you and shortening it at an alarming rate was causing Neil physical pain. The revelation acted like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your palm. It was difficult to shrug it off as if it was nothing. It nagged and prodded until you could do nothing but stare dumbly at him, feeling every passing second like a wasted beat of time you would never get back.

Before you could get your shit together in any way, it was too late. Neil had already jumped to conclusions, as you worried he might. His brows furrowed as his teeth nibbled on the chapped bottom lip in a familiar nervous tic. Slowly, as if navigating a mined battlefield, he shifted in the seat, widening the space between you by a fraction. You noticed it anyway.

“You don’t mind that this sort of thing keeps happening?” the question was completed with a vague gesture, slashing the air between you awkwardly.

The inflexion offered no space for doubt. Neil concluded that you very much did mind. That somehow you were not an active and eager participant in the heavy flirting and mutual teasing. Neil was an idiot.

And you had to put that point across instantly.

“Why would I mind?” without thinking, you let your fingers repeatedly stroke his forearm as you leaned back into his orbit to confess what ought to have been obvious, “I mean every word I say to you. Including all that post-Watershed talk” it was delightful to see your favourite smile disrupt his frown.

At the same time, it was nice to have it out in the open, no longer unsaid and implied. Because you did mean it. And you did want it. Whatever Neil would offer, be it a friendship or more. The choice was his.

You could pinpoint when the weight lifted off his shoulders and let him breathe deeper. You stared as Neil absorbed and processed the information, his blue eyes showing a spectrum of emotions. Some were unreadable. Other more obvious, like the devilish sparks that always guaranteed the conversation would take a curious turn. Or the cautious hope, making him look so much younger and innocent. Your unoccupied hand itched with the desire to brush his golden locks from his forehead, so you tightened it into a fist hidden in the coat pocket.

Just like you hid everything that had no place in your life.

At the periphery of your attention, you could register the called stations. Or the fact that your stop was mercilessly getting closer. Only one question could make you forget the reality altogether:

“So, what would you do if I kissed you?” when Neil asked, you were glad you had never forced yourself to look away from him.

That hesitant hope was still there, lightening up his eyes. You let it pull you in, as there was no need to search your heart for an answer. It was fair to assume Neil knew that, too. The question was only a preliminary. But it was still admirable he asked. People rarely did.

You shrugged, highlighting the evident conclusion he hopefully had already reached. It would have been easy to close the gap and let that be the answer. Too easy. It was enough that you could hardly ever look away from him, constantly drawn and arrested by his eyes.

Forcing yourself to break the spell, you met his gaze and offered him an impassive smile. If only to keep up the façade for a little longer.

“There’s only one way to find out, Neil,” you hoped that was enough, that he would understand the ball was back in his court to do as he pleased.

You also hoped Neil came to the right solution. Sadly, that did not seem to come to be just yet. One glance outside the window alarmed you about the surroundings and that you were arriving at your station. The frown twisted your mouth downwards as you risked a glance at Neil. The disappointment in his eyes told you he already caught up.

Two choices were waiting at your disposal. You could either stay, miss your stop to find out what would happen next. Or you could choose cowardice and leave the carriage, delaying the fateful moment a little longer. Definitely not forever.

It was hard to say why you chose the second option. Why you stood up without as much as a look at Neil and feigned a cheery farewell that felt foreign on your tongue. Later, you were keen to pretend it was just the influence of the moment. A sudden spell of insanity.

“Oops, that’s me. See you soon,” it was a miracle that you did not trip in the haste to get out.

You barely registered the surroundings as you bolted towards the sliding door and stepped onto the platform, missing the gap by mere millimetres. It was pure luck that you did not walk into any poor soul as you attempted to get away from the train as fast as possible.

You did not get the time to flee. All because you did not consider one thing – Neil had a choice, too.

When you felt a hand take yours and pull you back, there was that split second of panic. Your disoriented mind rapidly flicked through at least ten different disastrous scenarios, starting at a random appearance of Liam and ending at a violent assault you were about to be subjected to. Only then, at the very end, your brain pushed forward another observation. There was something familiar about that handhold.

Before you had a second to follow that thought, the interrupter pulled at your hand, making you whirl around to face them. Your widened gaze fell upon the undone tortoiseshell shirt buttons and wandered up the neck to land on Neil’s blue eyes, patiently staring back at you. It took you another second to understand what happened. And another one to begin processing what it could mean. Why he did it.

Without being aware of the movement of your body, you stepped closer to Neil, tightening the bubble you both had created in the middle of the platform. People bypassed you as they rushed to the train with the beeping doors hastening their steps. But that hardly mattered. It was just white noise. Unimportant and ignorable.

Unlike Neil, who closed the gap between your bodies to mere millimetres, and wordlessly repeated the question from before. The answer did not change. You offered him a tiny nod, not feeling the need to speak. The surrealism of the moment could not be labelled anyhow.

From the second you had tasted Neil’s lips, you knew it would not be something you could forget. That the feel of him would burn into the cortex of your brain and stay there to haunt you for eternity. You were right.

Your eyes snapped shut as soon as he closed the distance and covered your mouth with his in a soft kiss. His gentle and pliant lips caressed yours attentively without effort, making you cling even closer to him. Your arms came around Neil’s neck as your fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. It took another second, a blissful beat of existence, to make you kiss him back. Just as carefully. Just like you never kissed anyone before.

Neil’s relief came through in a short gasp, let out into your opening mouth, and the warm weight of his palms came up to rest on your waist beneath the open coat. Following the logic you did not understand, you tilted your head and allowed his prying tongue to lick into your mouth. The liquid heat traversed your veins, warming up your skin as Neil took his time to map out the inside of your mouth. Suddenly, the instant connection you felt made sense. Things clicked into place as you breathed the taste of him and breathed out the uncertainty. It felt right. Good. Unforgettable, even.

It felt like no first kisses and endless one-night stands ever did. And that made no sense.

Soon, that first kiss evolved into another and then the next. The platform, the people and the noise faded into the background as you swapped kisses, barely interrupted by quiet groans and swallowed gasps. On its own accord, your hand ventured up to tangle in his hair, grabbing a fistful of the golden locks and tugging in time with a particularly hungry nip taken out of Neil’s bottom lip. The reward of a barely stifled moan was more than worth it.

As was how Neil held you close and returned your kisses with equal zeal. He matched your energy and pushed you further until the remaining part of your conscience worried about being arrested for public indecency.

When the burn of your lungs excelled that of your soul, you placed a palm over the centre of his chest and pushed Neil back. Just a fraction. Just to catch your breath. His answering whine felt like another spark of pride, making your eyes glow with self-satisfaction. That was better than any other form of gratification you could think of.

When you finally forced yourself to blink your eyes open and look at Neil, you were met with kiss-bruised lips and darkened blue eyes, showing nothing else but hunger. At least ten increasingly ridiculous religious metaphors battled for leadership in your mind, but you pushed them all aside. The most accurate comment went to two simple words, pushed forward by the strength of your soul’s crudeness. Fucking hell. In the best of meanings, that is.

Following deeply rooted instincts, your tongue darted out to thoroughly trace the expanse of your bottom lip. And get remains of his taste, that you had already started missing. As far as kisses had gone, this one was pretty damn spectacular.

Neil seemed frozen, his eyes fixed on your mouth as if that was the only thing he could do. Admittedly, it was adorable. Yet, still, you decided to break the spell, the only way you could think of:

“I think your train has left,” you glanced over his shoulder, noting the expectedly empty platform.

Only now, when the haze of the kiss (or rather a whole make-out session) had begun to lift, you could understand what had transpired. And that Neil was keen to delay his return home for the price of a kiss. Or for the hope of a kiss, for clearly, he did not think he would get that far. Idiot.

You could see it now, back on his face. The slight disorientation and confusion suggested Neil could barely believe that what just happened was real. He blinked twice, then again, as if forcing himself to wake up and met your gaze with wide eyes. Without thinking, you allowed the hand you had pressed flat to his chest to venture up, stopping when your fingers started grazing over his neck. That was the trigger Neil needed to return to reality. He seized your adventurous fingers in a loose hold and placed your joined hands back over his heart. You could feel it racing.

“I’ll wait for the next one,” Neil offered you a half-smile, the uncertainty shining through the tentative joy in his eyes.

It was not something you were used to. Usually, after a kiss like that (never even preceded with a question, because who the fuck still asked for kisses?), you only ever got smugness. And an attempt at a smooth transition to sex, which did or did not succeed, depending on the participating party). Never uncertainty. Never shyness. Never contentment with what happened without pushing you for more.

You didn’t know what to do with any of it.

“No regrets?” the question was also one that you never asked before.

Not after something as trivial as a first kiss. But then, nothing was the way it usually went with Neil. That much was quite clear.

“Not really. You?” as if sensing your growing uncertainty, Neil did not hesitate before answering the question.

He squeezed your fingers, still wrapped in his palm and met your gaze with something almost resembling confidence. Somehow, that was enough. You took a fortifying breath to gather courage and discard the doubts. There would be more than enough time to deal with them later. Hopefully.

For now, there were other things to do and say. Like answering Neil’s question and reclaiming the conversation from its sombre paths. Especially since no cell in your body regretted the kiss. Or any other thing you had ever said or hinted at to him. It is just that somehow, somewhere along the line, your normal confidence had been wiped off the table. And it felt like it was never to be seen again. Not like before.

You hoped to ignore that bit of revelation, too.

“Nope. I’d offer a coffee at mine, but… I think some things need a better build-up,” you hoped the chaos in your head was not easily seen as you dropped the line with an attempt at the usual smoothness and met Neil’s eyes with remaining poise.

You meant that, too. A part of you, the same that had difficulties ending the kiss, wanted to continue it wherever it may lead you. You were quite sure you knew where it was going. And you certainly wanted that. But, at the same time, rushing into it seemed… wrong. As if the fact that you also wanted to be friends with Neil needed a little more respect. A little more time.

You could tell he understood from the way Neil nodded, his eyes still blown out by the darkened pupils.

“Agreed,” he shook his head slightly as if trying to clear it before glancing at the timing screen over your heads. Whatever the impact those 7 minutes of waiting had, the next thing Neil did was to heave a sigh and set his weary eyes on you, “Actually, I might walk back home. Should probably clear my head,” a small smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

Without overthinking the act, you seized his hand and started for the stairs. Just because you were not yet taking him home did not mean you could not drag out the goodbye. Right?

Right.

***

Although the kiss was not forgotten and only added to the general restlessness, you never mentioned it again. It was another layer added to the sprinkled, complex mess that was your relationship. A tiered cake that had so many flavours it was impossible to label it using a concise, less than five-word description. It just did not get discussed.

That was both a blessing and a curse, considering that with mere days left till the public Don Quixote premiere you could barely handle one type of stress and uncertainty. Let alone two. The reality check deadline crept up on you without warning, catching you pacing the flat for over an hour the evening before the official pre-premiere. The event always happened at least a night before the opening soiree and was reserved for the press, Royal Ballet directory and special guests of honour. It also meant that every detail of the performance had to be up to par if one wanted to continue advancing the career in the company. Which you did want. Desperately. It was just bloody unfortunate that the usual insanity of anxiety now was interlaced with something else.

Something that made you stop the pacing and pick up the phone only to open the messages and stare at the text conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours, and considering the 9 pm on the clock, you had a fair right to believe that he might be asleep. Maybe. But that could hardly deter the part of your brain that tended to get ahead of itself. Especially fuelled by stress and anxiety.

Without letting yourself falter, you typed the question:

/ 🏹, 9:04 pm/ Are you still up?

Luckily, you only had to hold your breath for an answer (or a lack of it) for less than 5 minutes. For that, your lungs were eternally thankful.

/✝️, 9:08 pm/ Is this the moment you ask me for dick pics?

A ridiculous guffaw broke the silence of your flat, along with that necessary intake of oxygen. Conversations like those still happened daily and only increased the want you could not get rid of if you tried.

And you didn’t try. There was no point to it.

/ 🏹, 9:09 pm/ Nah. Not yet.

You were having fun, chatting the shit on the daily with someone who seemed more than eager to keep the ball going. That was partially why you reached out on a whim, desperate to get out of the flat even for a little while. After all, asking Neil offered a fifty-fifty chance of an entertaining evening. All other intentions did not have to be disclosed. Even in your mind.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ That’s a relief.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ How can I be of service, my lady?

/ 🏹, 9:11 pm/ You’ve no idea, babe.

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ I was thinking of going to the dance studio, that’s open till midnight. Do you want to come?

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ You’ve said you wanted to see me dance so…

After sending the third message, you put down the phone and exhaled. That nervousness residing in your bones was new. It was almost as if it mattered what Neil’s answer would be. As if you cared whether he would say yes to the tentative proposition. None of that had ever happened before.

The urge to faceplant into the pillow was derailed by the buzz of an incoming message. With embarrassing speed of reaction, you read the texts:

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ Happily.

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ When and where do we meet?

You grinned. As you copied and pasted the location pin into the message, you could already feel a different type of nervousness enter your system. It was time for Neil to see you dance. You would also see him for the first time since the kiss. It was high time someone covered this topic on wikiHow. Or, at least, you thought so.

***

Although the Royal Ballet had more than good enough facilities at the Covent Garden building, the company could also use a studio by the Southwark Underground Station whenever you felt like it. Conveniently, that alternative place was open till midnight on weeknights, offering a one-in-a-million chance to run over the choreography for a billion times more before the pre-premiere. Without an audience of your fellow ballet dancers and their critical eyes, at that.

The other perk to the external studio was that nothing stopped you from bringing someone from the outside along. Nothing except for maybe the deeply rooted fear of showing Neil what you could do. Or couldn’t do.

That fear had not left through the Uber drive from your flat, growing in force from the moment you set your eyes upon Neil waiting outside the studio with a smile on his face. You exchanged the usual niceties, bypassing the awkward tint to the interaction with an avoided hug and nonsensical commentary from your side.

The nerves seemed to reach the peak as you left Neil in the main ballet studio room, the space lit up sparsely to maintain the strangely surreal atmosphere of those late autumn nights in London when nothing seems to be tangible and real. Having left the house in a pre-planned rehearsal outfit, you only took off the unnecessary layers, leaving you in a simple bodice and a wrap mid-thigh skirt and pulled on the woollen leg warmers to keep the chill at bay.

Luckily for your racing heart, the ritual of putting on and lacing up the pointe shoes always did its magic, allowing you to centre yourself and take a couple of deep breaths. Until there was nothing left but to march out of the changing room and connect your phone to the speaker, the right track ready for you to press play.

But before you could go that far, you made the mistake of locating Neil in the room. He had settled on the floor opposite you, his back pressed to the mirror-covered walls of the studio. He stared as you entered the invisible stage and offered you an encouraging smile. A slow, gentle warm-up was a valid opportunity to falter. A necessary step you had to take while also admitting that it was convenient. Although, Neil’s attentive gaze following your every move was much less convenient.

Once you had run out of all other options, you started the music, put down the phone and took up position. Desperate to rehearse as much as possible, you chose to go through the entire dream sequence at the end of Act 2. As always, the Minkus score did its magic, helping you settle into the movement and almost forget about everything else.

You followed the steps with practised ease, hearing the dull thud of pointe shoes hitting the hardwood floors with each landing between the orchestral notes. When the cue to finish was near you were almost out of breath. The pearls of sweat clung to your temples as the sweetness of exertion burned through your muscles and tendons. When those final notes rang off in the quiet studio, you held the finishing pose and waited for the music to end. The resulting silence was deafening.

Slowly, as if pained to do it, you opened your eyes. Neil was right where you had left him; his gaze seemingly never trailed away. But the exact look on his face was different. Instead of the ease and unbothered nonchalance he tried to emit earlier, Neil was now speechless. Dazed. His mouth was still agape, and he had to remind himself to close it before swallowing hard. You tried your hardest not to let that get into your head. You failed.

“So… what do you think?” unable to keep quiet for much longer, you released the question into the ether with a permanent frown and a minimal level of conviction.

It seemed to be what Neil needed to wake up from the stupor. He shifted, pulled up his knees to his chin and eyed you with a bright gaze. The desire to look away rose with every minute, but you tried to endure it. Somehow.

“You’re brilliant. Do you know that?” the matter-of-fact tone threw you off kilter, bringing out an automatic (albeit manic) grin from its hiding back onto your face.

Neil mirrored the expression instantly, only widening your smile in the process. Feeling the need to move again, you flexed your calves, completing a set of rapid changements. Only once that was done you could attempt to answer the question.

“Maybe,” you shrugged, unwilling to stray onto that sort of honest territory just yet, “It doesn’t hurt to hear it again, though,” unable to ignore that one voice at the back of your head that had not been convinced, you asked, “Was it actually… good?” the emphasis on the word was automatic.

You could tell Neil saw right through your faux nonchalance as he smiled, a different type of fondness shining in his eyes. That, too, was best left alone for now. The observation was shelved among others of its kind in the darkest cavern of your brain. Ideally left alone for good, never to be touched or thought of again. Just in case.

Neil’s gaze never strayed from yours as he offered you an answer without a hint of exasperation:

“As far as my virgin eyes could tell, it was perfect,” the corner of his mouth rose in the makings of a familiar smirk.

It eradicated any illusions that he did not know what he was saying. Or the effect the sentence would have. You closed your eyes against the sight, hopelessly willing the inconvenient feelings to disappear.

By now, it was painfully clear that Neil could be a bastard when he wanted to. It was just another thing that you liked about him. Perhaps too much.

For a second, you debated following the easy way out he had offered. It would have been effortless to take up the tone and turn the conversation into yet another pleasant back-and-forth that could potentially lead you past the talking. Past that one kiss, that had lowkey driven you insane with the promise of potential.

But the doubts were still there. They still clouded your mind like a flock of hungry birds of prey hunting for a bite of flesh. And Neil was the only person you could talk to and know he would listen. That he would care. For some reason, it was a crucial thing to share. An important topic to raise. Here and now.

“Allow me to ignore that double entendre potential for a second,” your apologetic frown was accepted with a subtle nod and meaningful glance.

“You’re excused, Cupid,” Neil grinned, evidently taking pleasure from the nickname you became fond of.

Especially because it was him, who bestowed it on you.

“Thank you,” shaking off the sudden rush of affection, you completed the gratitude with a cheeky addition, returning Neil’s smirk, “Sir,” only once noted his answering blush, it was safe to delve into what you really wanted to tell him. You took a deep breath, completing half a pirouette to face the mirrors on the wall and asked, “Do you ever feel like you’re just constantly pretending? Like the whole ‘fake it till you make it’ deal, except you never stop faking it?” training your gaze on the hardwood floors, you stared at the tips of your pointe shoes.

The worn-out, ragged edges caught your attention for a split second. You took a mental note to break in the brand-new pair and prepare them for tomorrow’s show. On the periphery of your vision, you could see Neil’s reflection. You could feel him staring, the intense gazing boring holes in the back of your head. But not even that could make you turn and face him.

“Pretty much every day,” Neil’s reply made you look up, meeting his eyes in the reflection. That was not an answer you had expected, “I’ve found that sometimes, if you’re lucky, all that pretending can fool the brain, too,” he signed off the addition with another reassuring smile.

Still, the scepticism reigned free as an unbidden scoff tore from your throat, forcing you to swallow down the sudden desire to retreat from the conversation. Years of practice did not seem to share Neil’s thesis. Things never got easier. You doubted they ever would.

“I’d hope so. Except that, I’m not sure I am that lucky,” that was a given, an undeniable fact of life like the laws of physics or the ignorance of the Tories. Unchangeable. The familiar wave of frustration threatened to pull you down as you allowed the insecurities to speak their part,“I may appear as a fucking cool cat, confident and all, but… I’m not,” hearing the broken note in your voice, you swallowed hard, unable to look at Neil anymore. There was only one final thing to add, “And I wish I could be,”

There. The curtain has fallen, revealing the truth underneath. Now, it was clear Neil had no illusions left about you. No reason to think of you highly. Somehow, you felt lighter. Sure, still unable to meet his gaze, even in the reflection, but it was better that way. Now, when you did disappoint him somewhere along the line, for whatever reason, it would be much less surprising.

You had no doubts whether that moment of disappointment would happen. It always did.

“You have every right to be. Because you are” when Neil spoke, at first, you did not register it. His words flew right over your head before being caught by your heart, desperate to find anything to hold on to. Only then did you hear what he said. You looked up in time to see the remains of the fading blush on his cheeks, “If that even makes sense,” he shook his head slightly as if scolding himself over the awkward reassurance and stood up. The tense shoulders betrayed the lightness he still tried to emit, “Trust me when I say I feel useless and stupid every minute of every day,” the weariness in his voice clashed with the disbelief you felt when hearing what he said.

That made no sense. The turmoil made you turn around in a half-pirouette and face Neil with wide eyes and mouth agape. Your brain was experiencing severe computing issues, the smoke almost sizzling out through your open lips.

He was none of those things. You barely resisted the urge to close the miles between you and shake him by the shoulders, all the while screaming at him to stop saying such bullshit. You did not do any of those things.

“But you’re… you,” instead, you gestured vaguely towards him, armed with words that were not enough.

No words seemed to be apt to describe him. Neil was just… impossible. Ineffable in his wonderfulness. Much better than anyone you had ever known. But that was something you could not say. Not now.

“In my books, that’s not necessarily a good thing,” Neil glanced at you with tired eyes, kicking around at nothing as he slid across the parquet in his socks.

When you entered the studio, he started unlacing his shoes before you could protest. Said something about not wanting the cleaner to have more work. The comment made you smile too brightly before you excused yourself into the changing room and hid your face in the palms of your hands. That state didn’t seem to have passed.

In an effort not to do anything stupid, you backed away till you could feel the barre against your back. Only then you met his searching gaze and made sure to show Neil the extent of earnestness on your face:

“It is. I’ve never met anyone like you, Neil,” the admission was met with a surprised double-take, so you decided to soften the tone with a stupid addition, “The hottest priest in London and whatnot,” you did mean that one, too.

Neil’s huff of laughter felt like a dodged bullet.

“Funny,” the bright sparks in his eyes confirmed the praise with doubled force, making you turn back towards the mirror to avoid being blinded by the strength of his affection. That stuff could be dangerous, “You’re the hottest ballerina in London, so we’re even,” once you registered Neil’s words, the silky tone of his voice that had not been there just a second ago, you knew that trouble was coming.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him close the gap. The warmth settled in your cheeks as you felt the comfortable heat spread around your body. That pleasant anticipation ignited in your bones with every step Neil took. Somewhere, at the edges of reason and logic, you knew you still had a choice. You knew that whatever he had envisioned in his mind, could easily be stopped with one word from your side. What was the problem?

Mainly that you didn’t want him to stop. Did not want to cut short the moment slowly blooming into something crucial. You could feel it buzz beneath your skin as Neil took the final steps towards you and leaned in. His hands came to rest upon the barre, millimetres from yours. Not quite touching but enough so you could not ignore his presence. You could feel the heat from his body as Neil pressed his chest to your back and whispered into your ear:

“A cool cat,” in normal circumstances, the call-back to your rant would have made you laugh.

But those weren’t normal circumstances. Not with Neil’s proximity, his hands slowly tracing invisible lines up your arms. You could feel his breath on the nape of your neck, creating goosebumps effortlessly. And the thing was – this wasn’t anything new. It was far from the first time someone had done this. Far from the first time you had been tempted by someone who desired you. But it was the first time they seemed to take their time for it.

Your head felt dizzy with the revelation as Neil’s fingers lightly brushed the neckline of your bodice and journeyed down. It was a first in the fact that he did not even try touching your breasts, instead respectfully settling over your ribs and tapping a vague rhythm over your heated skin. Without searching your heart, you knew that you did not mind it. Not one bit.

You covered one of his palms with yours, firmly pressing it against your waist and raised your head to seek Neil’s gaze. He was already looking back at you, the blue eyes of his eyes dark and consumed with something you wanted to call hunger. The same feeling could be easily found on your face.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” you frowned at the hoarseness of your voice and the breathless tint to the question.

For the first time, it was impossible to fake your reaction. Impossible to pretend you were not affected. Neil’s answering smile, full of confidence and mischief, made that discovery seem fine. Not troubling at all.

“Is it working?” the warmth in his eyes made you feel safe, not threatened by the potential of what could happen.

Not viable to the pains of consequences. That seemed enough.

Enough to make you gently tug at his hand, asking for the freedom of movement to turn around and face him. Only then, with Neil’s curious gaze beaming down on you like a desirable spotlight, you placed his palm back on your waist and offered an honest reply:

“I think you already know,” as proof, you picked up his other hand and guided it to press against your chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat.

The wolfish grin you received in return was worth any leftover sense of shame and embarrassment. Neil leaned in, and just as you were about to close your eyes, awaiting another life-changing kiss, he left a promising peck on the edge of your jaw. On its own accord, your hand tightened over the wooden railing as you exposed your throat for his use.

Neil wasted no time leaving a trail of kisses down the slope of your neck, only just being careful enough not to leave marks. Each kiss felt like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your neck, blazing hot and impossible to shake off. You closed your eyes, letting the sense take in the sensation of his tender care. Of the contrasting burn of stubble, scratching at your skin with a delicious sting.

Every kiss took time, only then to be sealed with a lick of his tongue, eliciting your quiet gasps and barely kept in groans of pleasure. The wave of insanity rose, threatening to take over your brain, save for one consistent thought. One revelation.

No one had cared this much before.

Letting go of his hand, you tangled your fingers in his golden strands, lightly tugging to gain his attention. The answering groan was sure to enter the library of sounds and images you liked to relieve in private. But before you could attempt to formulate the desire painted across your face, the door to the studio creaked, disrupting the silence.

You gasped in shock as Neil took half a step back, warily eyeing the doorway. A thousand curses lodged themselves in your throat as a silhouette of an older man, armed with a bucket and a mop, peered inside the room with a scowl. Fucking Rich, the Janitor.

The older man scanned you both from head to toe and sighed.

“It’s closing time, kids. Go home,” his gravelly voice acted like the much-needed bucket of cold water.

As he turned back towards the darkness of the corridor, you met Neil’s eyes. The depths of exasperation visible there told you this business was far from over. You certainly hoped so.

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[try-set-me-on-fire]

Oh I'm such a wimp I don't even wanna think about bad things happening 🫣 But I keep coming back to touch starved, secret caretaking and cry into chest, if you want to talk about any of them?

Well secret caretaking would be kind of a fluffy one! Buck is a pretty stubborn guy when it comes to taking care of himself and asking others for help related to that, so it would be Eddie quietly doing things to make his life easier/nicer while he’s having a tough time. A lot of him being sappy while making sure his ice packs always get back in the freezer, etc.

Haven’t figured out the other two so I’ll just start typing shit out under the cut

Cry into chest…. Not sure what to do about this one…. Maybe I’ll make Eddie cry about something…. Family problems? A nightmare? Buck got hurt and he’s worried? Chris is sick and he’s worried? Or maybe nothing at all has happened but he still is just caught up in an overwhelming feeling of nonspecific worry and frustrated about it because he thought he was past this, The Breakdown ™ was so long ago at this point and like he knows making progress doesn’t mean he magically doesn’t have anxiety anymore and he can have set backs and that’s okay, but he’d been getting better at recognizing when panic like this is coming on and what might trigger it, he’s upset that this blindsided him. Yeah I like that I think I’ll turn that into something…

Touch starved might be another Eddie one. Maybe lawsuit era, maybe post shooting where Ana is there and touches him but he just wants buck, maybe breakdown era where he doesnt see buck anymore and misses him so much but doesnt know how to ask for it, maybe just a general him getting in his head about what kind of touch he’s allowed to have? Like he and Buck casually touched and hugged more in the first season or two they were in and then got a little more distant and that could be characterized as like… in the early days Buck is a friend, its fine to pal around with your friends, but then uh oh the emotions are getting really intense now and you’re not supposed to want to touch your friends this much! Danger! What would the guys on his baseball team have said? What would his dad say? In other words Eddie Diaz Fights The Forces Of Internalized Homophobia. OR I might repurpose and finish this snippet (that I think I’ve already posted before??) about Buck coming back to the Diaz house for the first time after the tsunami

They’re in the locker room, shift over by a good ten minutes, when Eddie puts a hand on his arm. Buck, carefully, doesn’t startle or say this is the second time you’ve touched me in three months out loud.

“You wanna come over,” Eddie says, theoretically a question but presented more like a statement, and Buck should probably feel more annoyed at that except for the fact that there’s a less than zero chance he’d ever say no.

“Yeah,” he says, unnecessarily. “Sure. You want me to grab food?”

So, 40 minutes later, he’s in front of the Diaz house holding a few greasy boxes and worrying that somehow everyone’s taste in pizza has changed since the last time they did this. Eddie’s taste, probably, at nearly years old, has settled such that the most garlic-y option Buck can find is still a safe bet, but Chris is just a kid, getting bigger every day, changing all the time. Three months is an age to an eight year old, maybe pepperoni is disgusting now, embarrassing, food for babies.

So. Buck is standing on the porch, holding the boxes, biting his tongue not to cry wondering what all he might have missed when Eddie pulls into the driveway in his new big truck. He bites down harder because he doesn’t know what he’s allowed anymore, if it would be okay for him to laugh and say what the fuck are you hauling around that you need this much car, Diaz.

Sorry Eddie I will never pass up the opportunity to rage on you for your poor choice of car for city driving

#tag games #asked and answered #wip tag game

[radi0activesmile]

Thoughts under the cut!

1. I’ve loved Andrealphus since the moment they dropped a picture of him, so I’m psyched we got to see him finally. HOWEVER...

The fact that they dropped that image of him months before season 2 dropped, and Stella name-dropped him in episode 1 of season 2 making him out to be this big threat that Stolas did not want to anger... seems like they were building up a lot for a guy who was just sorta... there. 

2. I think if this episode had been longer (it’s like seven minutes shorter than Exes and Oohs) that would have helped a lot. If scenes had like 30-40 more seconds in them, I think it would have flowed a little better. Like. Andrealphus was clearly trying to accomplish something by playing up Stolas cheating on Stella, but Striker came in before we could do it. Maybe we could have seen how easily he can get under Stolas’ skin, or maybe he could have said something to help us understand why Stella uses him as a threat. 

3. I like the idea of Millie and Moxxie going to take someone down without Blitz, but I wish it was someone other than Striker. Not that they didn’t have personal beefs with him, but when we last saw Striker, we kind of got the idea that he had almost convinced Blitz to join him, and I think that emotional scene at the end would have been waaaaay more effective if Blitz had been there to save Stolas, and Striker had offered that same deal, and Stolas could get to see Blitzo falter again. 

4. I think this episode suffers the same way Seeing Stars suffered in that, I get why they wanted Blitz to be away from the main plot, but I think the way they got him away... needed some work. Maybe if they’d been on a mission and Loona had been really hurt, and that’s why he needed to take her to a hospital? I know Helluva’s a dark comedy but the tone shifting so drastically from ‘haha dog getting shots’ to ‘man is getting tortured to death’ was a biiiit... extreme? 

5. I do like us getting to see how other hellborns treat imps... and seeing Blitz nearly lose it when someone mispronounces his name is a nice callback. 

6. Shoutout to the boyband imp. I love him. 

7. With how rushed things already felt, I don’t... really understand the scene where Millie and Moxxie stop at the gas station. Seemed like that time could have been better spent developing one of the other scenes. 

8. I’m all for Stella being a jaded girl boss who wants her husband to suffer for cheating on her (which he did, no matter how he tries to justify it, and no matter how loveless the marriage was, he did cheat on her) buuuut why was she okay with Striker shooting him last time? This seems like something she would want done quickly-- and quietly. She’s a noble with an image to think of, right? 

8.5 Then again, they’re clearly trying to paint her as someone who isn’t thinking this through (even though she clearly did think it through the first time she hired Striker? When she waited until he was an entire ring away from his castle and his guards? And could easily pin it on someone else? Rather than getting him abducted in public and not even pretending to be surprised?)

9. Really hope we get some Striker backstory, ‘cause the man’s clearly got some issues with nobles/overlords and I’m dying to find out who hurt him so badly. 

10. There’s so many scenes I wish were longer, but the Loona getting a shot scene could have been cut by a loooot. 

11. Did... did the person who wrote the scene between Andrealphus and Stella forget they’re siblings? Did they think Andre’s her sassy best friend? Because he does strike me as the type of guy who talks like this... but not to his sister. 

12. I like that they’re seemingly painting Andrealphus as this deep thinker who’s out here playing the long-game, but I don’t like that they had to make Stella so oblivious to the obvious to show that. Don’t tell me this woman, who has been plotting this for months (probably over a year) was so blinded by wanting Stolas dead that she didn’t consider anything else. She was raised a noble. Her marriage was arranged in childhood. Don’t tell me she isn’t very aware of what would happen to her status if he died. Don’t tell me she didn’t think of a way around that waaaay before she found an assassin. Why is she a whiny child all of a sudden?

13. STOP. CALLING. YOUR SISTER. THINGS. LIKE. THAT.

14. Edward Basco does an amazing job as Striker and I love the level of so done with these blue blooded dumbasses he brought during that phone call. 

15. That fight scene is absolutely gorgeous. 

16. I’m so confused about how Blitz got Loona into the car and into the doctor’s office only for her to suddenly put up a fight? I get her being freaked out but knowing it’s something she has to do to keep herself alive, and I could see her fighting Blitz the entire way there. The sudden flip just seemed... again, tonal shift. 

17. Love Doctor goat’s design though. 

18. Music is a bop!

19. So M&M get no credit for absolutely saving Stolas’ ass huh?

20. Stolas’ doctors being legit Plague Doctor demons is fantastic and I have no complaints. 

21. He can get hurt?

All jokes and gripes aside I really do like that line. Blitz clearly has a fear of people leaving him either by choice or by being taken away by death, and I bet thinking Stolas was this immortal being that, while annoying, he was likely comforted by the idea that Stolas physically can’t be taken from him. Then suddenly that security is jerked away from him. No matter what other feelings I have about this episode, that was really well done. 

22. Glad we’re finally getting some clarification on what’s been up with these two since Ozzie’s. It looks like Stolas is trying to give Blitz space and prove their relationship is not just you wanting me to fuck you and Blitz is being dismissive and guarded. They’re acting like nothing happened when they’re in front of others but it seems we’ll eventually get them talking about what happened that night. 

23. Why do you insist on hurting me with these character breaks after looking at phone endings, Viv?

All in all, I didn’t hate the episode. It absolutely wasn’t one of my favorites, and I don’t think it was a good follow up at all to Exes and Oohs, but it wasn’t terrible. I’ll admit my hopes and expectations were high AF because I’ve been dying to see Andrealphus and also dying for Striker to come back. 

So far, in season two, I’ve:

Really enjoyed episode 1

Had... thoughts about episode 2.

Loved episode 3.

Thought episode 4 was meh. 

Soooo, if the pattern keeps up, episode 5 should be great!

#Helluva Boss spoilers #⛤My Work Became MUNdane ⛤ - out of character #and now I'm gonna pop over to Andrealphus' blog and post about things I specifically disagree with in regards to him

[kingeorgey]

the reception to ‘Faithless and Mystic, Faint as Can Be’ on ao3 has blown me away. i know i don’t reply to comments or reblogs (i get really anxious replying to comments) but they mean the WORLD to me. i obsess over each and every one.

as my thanks for reaching 1,000 hits, i present to you:

Things About “Faithless and Mystic, Faint as Can Be” that Only the Author Knows

1.) I kind of hate the title because it doesn’t fit anymore (see #2)

2.) This book was never meant to be a book. It was going to be a roughly 15,000 word 3-chapter fic, purely about the group’s first meeting post-cyclone. I was as shocked by The Kiss as the audience, and that’s when I made it a full length fic.

3.) I don’t know why I decided to put poems at the beginning of the chapters. Just for fun, originally. Now I feel like I’m committed. The first 3 chapters, I had the poems decided beforehand. Since then I either do it towards the end, or right before I upload. Is it pretentious? Slightly. But I’m committed now.

4.) I do not write characters if I don’t know their favorite ice cream flavor. Whether it’s Ricky or Penny, or the bully with one line in chapter 5. There are some tossups, though.

5.) Ricky’s dad, Henri, is actually Henri-Pierre Potts. He and Victoria met at a French-Canadian speaking university in Sudbury. Uranium was only a 40 minute drive from their post-uni jobs, and real estate was cheap, so they got a nice house and stayed there. Victoria’s maiden name is Charlotte.

6.) The Potts are not devout Catholics whatsoever, just put Ricky at St. Cassians because they make good money and figured it would be a better education. Ricky’s disability (better put, how others treated them) played a big role in their shift away from the religion- will be expanded upon in future chapters or a future oneshot.

7.) 99% of this book has been written with Peaky Blinders in the background.

8.) Mischa is roughly 6’5. Eastern Europeans tend to be pretty tall and I come from a tall family- I thought all boys were 6’3 minimum until I got into high school and 6’0 was considered tall. (I’m just under 5’11 myself)

9.) I purposely do not mention Noel’s height, or whether he is cisgender.

10.) I cannot, for the life of me, write Constance Blackwood. Ocean is a struggle, pretty neck and neck with Noel. The other three are extremely easy to write.

11.) Penny’s height is never explicitly stated, either. It’s mentioned that she’s small, yes- but, was I talking about her literal appearance?

12.) Victoria Potts cannot handle raw meat in any capacity. If Henri does not do the cooking (which, in chapter 4, we learn he does) the Potts don’t eat meat. My older sister is like this, I find it an interesting quirk.

13.) The kids are going to have a homecoming dance / end of autumn dance. I know that’s American, but I’m the author and my fanfictions are dictatorships. The Ricky and Penny interaction is going to be gloriously teenage boyish.

14.) Titling the chapters is the absolute last thing I do, and it’s one of my favorite parts.

15.) So far, one of my favorite moments as an author has been the ceramic plate metaphor in chapter 4 (I think) when Mischa stays the night at Ricky’s. This fic has really pushed my writing beyond what I thought it could be and even though it’s kind of stupid, the ceramic plate thing made me so proud when I typed it out. I’ve been consistently writing fanfiction since fifth grade (started with a One Direction trilogy, don’t ask) and now I’m in my third year of college. I’ve come a long way and I really do enjoy writing fanfic in my free time, it’s nice to write something I’m so insanely proud of!

That’s all for now- thank you endlessly for the support! 🤍

#jane doe #ride the cyclone #ricky potts #ride the cyclone fanfiction #penny lamb #constance blackwood #mischa bachinski #ocean oconnell rosenberg #noel gruber #spacedolls #rtc fanfic #fanfic

[ahappybeginning]

Hi! 👋

So, I honestly didn’t intend for 2 1/2 months to go by without posting here. I’ve just been really focused on my post op journey and making sure I hit all my goals, plus most of my free time was devoted to writing the past couple of months. But now that things have mostly settled, I felt I should check in on here and give an update about what’s been going on since my surgery in October. I don’t even know how many people are still following this blog or care, but I started this mostly for myself so I should probably try to keep up with it more.

So anyway, post op life has been about 85% very positive. Each appointment I’ve had with both my surgeon and nutritionist, they’ve said I’m doing everything perfectly and to just keep going as I have been, which is very encouraging and a huge relief.

I’ve gotten into a fairly good groove with taking all the vitamins and other pills, although recently it’s shifted around a bit because I’m trying to figure out how to make it the most efficient in how it fits into my overall day-to-day schedule. Things got a little wonky over the holidays because I had more days off and it kinda threw some things off, but I’m working on getting myself back into my normal routine again. I’m also adding in a couple new supplements because I’ve felt very tired and sluggish the past few weeks, and I’m worried maybe I’m not getting enough of some things. But overall, I’m doing pretty well.

Food wise, I’m still in the soft food phase for another couple weeks, but after the 20th, I will finally be able to go back to a “normal” diet. Obviously that’s still going to look very different than my old normal, but at least I can add in a wider variety of foods and textures so I’m not just rotating the same 5-6 meals over and over again. I love eggs and cottage cheese but I’m ready for some other options 😅. I’m currently able to eat about 3 oz per meal, which still seems a bit crazy to me that I can be full on so little food, but really I haven’t had any issues with feeling hungry. Probably because I’m supplementing it with a rotation of protein drinks/shakes/shots, and I’m averaging between 120-160 grams of protein a day.

And I’m most happy with the physical results I’m seeing. Not just the actual weight loss (which is fantastic and so much more than I had expected), but also just the ability to move my body more without feeling exhausted or sore. I’ve gotten to the point where I can easily achieve 10,000 steps a day, most of the time by the end of my work shift (I get up and walk around my room every hour or so to make sure I’m not sitting too long), and some days I can get to 13,000-14,000. It’s amazing the difference from just a few months ago, where walking 5 minutes would have me out of breath and having awful back pain. Now I’m walking 30-40 minutes at a time with no problem, and I’m working up to doing even more. And overall, since last May, I’ve lost 134 lbs, 51 of that has been just since my surgery. I honestly can’t be more thrilled with how the physical part of this journey has gone so far. It’s been hugely transformative and I’m so proud of myself for making this decision. Never once have I felt an ounce of regret, even through some of the harder parts.

Which I guess leads me to the 15% not so positive stuff. Thankfully, I’ve not had any issues with not tolerating food, but sometimes my multivitamin will make me a bit nauseous. I’ve tried to make sure and take them right after I eat, but sometimes it still makes me feel icky. And I’ve tried different brands and types, the one I keep going back to is the soft chew, which I like fine (it’s actually kind of like a Starburst candy), but I’m also having a lot of dental work done right now, and they keep telling me to try and switch to the regular pill vitamins. But every time I try, I throw up. So, right now I’m just trying to make the best of it and sticking to the one that I can tolerate the best.

And the biggest not-fun thing: I’m starting to experience some major hair loss. I knew it was one of the more common side effects of the surgery going in, but honestly it was also the scariest thing for me. It’s something that has always been a constant point of pride for me, the one physical feature I had that I’ve always loved and never felt shame or embarrassment about. So now to lose that…it’s more than a little devastating. I had a consultation at a hair salon last week, but there really aren’t any good options that won’t cost me more than I can really afford. So now I’m in the process of grieving my beautiful, soft, full hair and trying to accept that this is just a temporary thing, but it’s been really hard. I’m doing literally EVERYTHING that people have suggested to help minimize the loss and help it grow back faster, so now I just have to wait it out and try to find ways to make it tolerable until things stabilize. It’s honestly been the hardest part of this whole thing, which probably seems ridiculous but it’s the truth.

So the past few weeks have been a bit rough in trying to come to terms with it, but I’m not letting it derail me from my progress in other areas. I just booked my first trip out of state since 2019, finally getting back to traveling, which is a big love of mine and something I’ve been missing dearly. And I’m meeting a friend that I was supposed to meet right when COVID happened and messed up our plans, so I’m thrilled to finally get a second chance for that, and to be in a much better physical and mental state than I was in 2020. So despite the few struggles that I’ve encountered along the way, I’m still 100% happy with my decision and am completely committed to seeing it through. This year is when I start living again.

#bariatric sleeve #bariatric surgery #post op journey

[thisaintascenereviews]

Tyler Hubbard - Self-titled Florida Georgia Line is most often to be considered the worst thing to happen to country music within the last decade, and you could make an argument as to why -- they started the “bro-country” trend, where these artists talk about trucks, girls, beer, and the same types of things, all the while incorporating pop and hip-hop tropes into country. A lot of people hate it, and for good reason. It’s really bad, misogynistic, boring, and uninspired. FGL was always at the forefront of it, especially with their 2012 hit “Cruise,” which admittedly is very catchy. They broke up in 2021, but they didn’t officially call it quits until last year. It was very quiet, but the inevitable finally came. It also makes sense because both members, Tyler Hubbard and Brian Kelley, were putting out solo projects. Hubbard is the latest one to do so with his debut solo album. He released an EP last year, all of which appears on this new self-titled album, but I thought I’d check it out for a couple of reasons -- out of pure curiosity, just to see if this album might be good, and because I’ve got a somewhat soft spot for these guys. FGL’s music is either really, really bad or it’s generic but still rather catchy. I enjoy some songs on all of their albums, at least to some degree, and I like Hubbard’s voice a lot. He’s nothing special, but he’s got a good sound to it, and I can enjoy it. Maybe his new self-titled debut album might be good, so I thought it would be good to check it out, especially when I liked the songs from the EP. As far as EPs go, it’s fine, but how is the whole album now that it’s been out for the last week? Let me ask you, the reader, this first: do you want the short version or the long version? The short version is that this album is fine, nothing more or less. There’s a lot more I can say, but if I had to sum it up, this album’s okay. It’s nothing special, and if you have an idea of what to expect with FGL, you’re going to get the same thing here. This album feels like an extension of FGL, and it’s almost like they never broke up, but this album is less obnoxious. The long version, however, is that there are some bright moments on this album, but it’s frustrating, because it’s so generic in a lot of places, too. It’s catchy, and a lot of the songs on this album have good hooks, but this record places radio-friendly hooks over songwriting and lyricism. Hubbard’s performance is fine, and the instrumentation is well and good, but the lyrics are very bland a lot of the time, usually being very surface-level, and the songwriting is blase, too. It’s just a lot of the same, especially within the album itself. Every song on this hour-long album sounds the same, and it’s bad, folks. Not the songs are bad, but the album is way too long. This didn’t need to be an hour. I would have wanted this to be maybe around 36 to 40 minutes. It doesn’t need to be an hour. You could have cut a lot from this album and it wouldn’t have made a difference, especially when a lot of the songs have very similar lyrics. A lot of this record is about how this girl that Hubbard is with loves him for who he is, such as on “Me For Me,” which is a decent song and a good sentiment, but it’s weird when he’s painting himself out to be this unique guy when he’s just describing country tropes, such as big trucks, wearing boots, and drinking beer. There are a few songs that try to break out of the generic formula, such as “Miss My Daddy,” where he talks about his late father, but it’s few and far between. Some songs are pretty fun, such as “Everybody Needs A Bar,” which is just about how everyone needs a bar to drink, decompress, and socialize at. He even says that everyone needs somewhere to just shoot the shit, and it’s a pretty fun moment on this album that I really liked. Overall, though, this LP just feels like a bunch of outtakes and leftover ideas from FGL records. That’s fine in itself, because a lot of their fans are going to enjoy this, since it’s not much different, but there’s a lot that’s left to be desired. I wasn’t disappointed by this, because I went into it knowing what to expect, and it’s exactly what I thought I’d get. From the EP, it’s the same thing, but there are some good moments. “5 Foot 9″ is a catchy song and one of the lead singles, “Everybody Needs A Bar” is a ton of fun, and “Miss My Daddy” is an introspective song that looks more inward and has something more personal to say than the generic country tropes that this album continues with and that Hubbard and his songwriting team thinks people still want to hear. It’s funny when you consider Hardy’s second album, The Mockingbird & The Crow, came out a couple of weeks before this, and it actively deconstructs and pokes fun at these exact tropes (especially when Hardy himself had a hand in writing some of FGL’s biggest hits). If you’re looking for some solid country with a pop edge, you’ll like this, or you miss FGL, you’ll get something out of it, but people who don’t like country already will not like this. I like some of it, especially some hooks and vocal melodies, but as a whole, it’s really lacking.

#tyler hubbard #florida georgia line #5 foot 9 #country #pop country #bro country #country music #pop #pop music

[ramu-ego]

mind sharing your other fandom favs then? you have me sort of curious if ego is tots ur type LMFAOA .. omg aftwr u-20 win ego was such a proud dad the face he made was honestly sort of emotional ..!!

NEVVER APOLOGIZE 4 WRITING ANOTHER FIC IDEA HEL i think with my pussy half the time and i read ANYTHINGGG as long as it’s dom!reader (can you tell i’m desperate ORR WHATT?) ngl your “pussy dragging on the keyboard” comment made my ass giggle for a full minute LMFOAO i’ll be using that as well thanks!

personally 4 me i never was really into nikko ASSS MUCHH.. but i can see the hype .. cant stop thinking how sweaty and greasy his forehead must be after those thick ass bangs though.!.!?!

WOAH our timezones r so different HELLPP.. by the time you said it was 6:40 am, it was at least night for me, polar opposites in a way sorta! godd you’re a chronic coffee drinker?? i’m more of a tea person myself but coffee does power through most things with ur day anyways, don’t overdose on it or something!! (unless u alrdy do LOL)

i’ve been doing great as ever, taking my time to relax before i’ve got to get back to that tiring education life again.. 🥲 your blogs has been a good way to pass the time though so a win win for me!! for the blue lock anime last week, episode 10 was surprisingly good considering i was scared shitless of animation budgeting and if they would butcher it, sometimes the cgi makes me giggle but hell i’m such a blue lock supporter that i just move on from all of the questionable moments with the animation!

i’m a sub watcher for all animes (which, i haven’t touched a lot of animes .. if you’re an avid anime watcher, any recs?)

for me, u-20 match was an INSANE ride for me, def my fav and i always reread it in a way, i think everything leading up to it like the 3v3 or 4v4 matches were great too, but u-20 match was hype like no other !! whiichhh brings me to my next point, i need to see more of hiori as his design was just too cute for me to pass up, just the hair and the eyes were so ?!? eye catching imo..

oh jeez and there was this one panel with this blue lock player with the most nicest hair but he just. NEVER APPEARED LMFAOO? i haven’t seen him ever since — don’t even think we got a name

ah jeez i’m SOOOO SORRY if my messages get a bit too long, I HATE JUST RESPONDING INSTEAD OF. CONTINUING A CONVERSATION (if this makes sense?) .. so i tend to ramble ^^’ don’t feel pressured to mirror the length though!! i’d be heading off to bed as i send this message in, so this is sort of my goodnight :P - 💌

OH GOD THE OTHERS-

-this will be a dead give a way to some of my very very old followers who've accidentally re found me after I achieved my last blog and took a long hiatus. I have very specific...qualities...to a lot of them that overlap...

in order from top left to right; Kurono Yuichiro (Fire Force absolute love of my life and a near 1:1 character match to Ego honestly), Hanma Shuji (TokyoRev), Sir Nighteye (MHA), Asagiri Gen (Dr Stone), Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Ginoza Nobuchika (Psycho Pass) ...three out of the six are played by the same English VA so you could say I have a type 😂

To be fair my other categories for favs are literally all copy and print similar too. My "These are my babies I'm breastfeeding them and enabling them" favs are near identical copies in every anime I watch 😂 then the third less talked about group...the dreaded libra group 😒

SOMETIMES YOU JUST WRITE WITH YOUR PUSSY AND NOT YOUR BRAIN AND THAT'S WHAT'S HAPPENING WITH THIS STUPID NIKO FIC THAT'S GOING WELL OVER SIX PAGES FOR NO STUPID REASON BESIDES THE PUSSY DESERVES IT UGH

ok but to gush a moment before forgetting the Ego during the U-20 match...that panel!!! Oh god that panel!!! Of him telling Isagi that what happened to him and his career didn't matter, that he was fine to be blacklisted from the sport he loved bc he assured all 22 of them had a career in soccer after this game, win or loose, OH GOD THAT PART. I will literally fist fight anyone at this point who wants to shit talk Ego and say he "doesn't care" bc that man was ready to throw away his livelihood for them to succeed on a world stage in the sport they love. Man's got protective dilf energy and I'm giving him a child this uterus is open for business rn

Niko is....Ok I'm blaming it on his VA actually (sorry I watch dubbed I just literally can't focus on subbed) and his English VA is a well known one but did a creepy high pitched voice with it and I mean I'm willingly fucking Ego like I'm advertising I'll kiss that weird man's ankles but Niko- Niko is just too fucking weird for me. But apparently the pussy wants to challenge that bc fuck me with a six plus page story over god damn nipples! Niko is still....too ugly for me RIP

My time zone is fucked at the butt end of everything so I am WAY use to being the last one up and last one to go to bed in every fandom I've ever been in 🤣 Learned that as a teen when literally no one was ever awake when I was RIP. But yes I'm a chronic coffee drinker I've always have been the bean it calls to me I must have it (given I don't drink enough to like NEED it or get a headache I just enjoy the taste but love tea too) Drank it thru my pregnancy and drank it breastfeeding no one's pulling the beautiful bean from my mouth. Love me a good tea though I won't deny good green, black and other teas hit different. Just no herbal shit stuff makes me wretch istg

Glad to hear I started this blog in good timing then! Ain't nothing like relaxing with some good pegging when you're trying to forget that book bullshit 💅 And honestly even though I picked up the manga right after like episode two (needed Ego I wasn't waiting lololol) I've been very happy with the animation cuz like the manga is illegally beautiful. Holy shit is the manga just so well done and the drawings are top tier throughout the entire thing (coming from tokyorev and jujutsu god I miss manga artists that don't just scribble on things like a coke addict) Questionable animation or not they keep slut drawing Ego's hands so damn fine and that man's watch I'll forgive any animation doozie long as my weird looking stick man looks fine as hell

I don't watch sub (I just can't take in the actual show and read plus I got a mad voice kink so....dubbed it is for me) But I've watch a fair share of anime. Don't really watch it for like...the sake of just watching anime (prefer western cartoons a little more) but I've watched some really good ones though. First on the list, Fire Force. I've single handedly convinced like two dozen people to watch this. It's my favorite of all time and will be tattooing the weird looking man in the collage on my body at some point bc of how much I love that series. Mob Psycho 100 is amazing as always for so many reasons and it has a bit of everything for everyone. The Case Study of Vanitas was better than it was aloud to be and I hate vampires. Dr. Stone fucking nerdy funny and entertaining. Psycho Pass is a good like murder mystery book. Sonny Boy and Space Dandy done by the same studio and will make you question your existence. Kekkaishi is old but still one of my favorites ever. And Blue Exoricst I wrote a 60+ chapter fan fic on it for a reason and its still going strong and written by a woman! Don't know about any of their sub versions but their stories and characters are so good they're worth it.

That entire block from the five round selection to the U-20 game was just- Fucking illegally good for a sports anime?? A sports anime for crying out loud?? Even the way they introduce so many new characters is so smooth and not even clunky and you genuinely take an interest in everyone even if you only see them for one game?? Hiori is cute...a little more feral than I expected when we first saw him being cute with Isagi and Nanase. But Hiori, Otoya, Karasu and Kurona haven't like wowed me yet. I'm invested but I'm still going real fucking soft on Yukimiya right now like. God. The eye thing. LET ME BABY YOU AND HAVE THAT SAD MAN. God he's gonna be so fucking pretty when he's animated I'm screaming already

Was that the panel of the dude with Gagamaru and Raichi? The one that's shown on the blue lock screen but we never have an actual manga cap of him?

PLS DON'T APOLOGIZE I TALK TOO MUCH I WAS A HAIRDRESSER FOR FIVE YEARS I TALK WAY TOO MUCH PLS NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR TALKING TO MUCH AS YOU CAN SEE I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL I'M SORRY I'M THE ONE RAMBLE. PLS HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY SINCE WE'RE OPPOSITE ENDS OF THE SUNNY TIME. RAMBLE ALL YOU WANT I ADORE IT <3

#pls im sorry i talk so much #and i have so many feelings about blue lock holy shit #didnt feel this way about haikyuu like it was ok but blue lock hits different #helps i played soccer a lot as a kid so it hits home #but also it has ego #so bonus #anyways my types are all pretty strong....all my husbands are simliar for the most part #all my babies i wanna smoother are VERY similar #and then a god awful third thing...libras #im a predictable idiot and assume if i call someone ugly...i'll eventually end up liking them #:: thanks for the ask~! ✩ #:: 💌.anon~! ☆

[resistanttodarkness]

A Brief Summary of Immortals, by Nathan Barrow

Hello, dear readers! Can you believe it’s been a whole year since President Della Frienze’s crazy inauguration speech? Life has certainly taken some turns since then!

I feel I would be failing in my duty as a journalist if I did not recap this historic event. And besides, this post can serve as a nice little summary of the world of Immortals as a whole! I’ll have Josh pin it to the main page! (Editor’s Note: Nate made this thing too damn long to pin it to the main page. It’s a mess as it is. I’ll make it a separate page on the site, or something.)

When President Frienze took the stage, everyone thought it was going to be your run-of-the-mill celebration speech, going over campaign promises and the like. Boy were we wrong! Out of nowhere, she drops this bombshell- “While I know this is meant to be a celebration for myself, my party, and those who voted for me, I must deliver an important message. Magic is real.”

Insane, right? I don’t think there was a sound on Capitol Hill for five minutes straight! Why’d she wait that long, anyway? To show she was serious? To check the audience for some Immortal agents? Boggles the mind, right? Anyway, she continued-

“Since nearly the dawn of human civilization, there have been people with the ability to perform inexplicable feats. Creating fire, water, lightning from nothing. Flight. Speaking with animals. The list goes on. These people are Immortals, named as such due to their unaging forms.”

To think she didn’t elaborate on that bit! Unaging! Bit hard to hide that for so long, right? I had to dig this up on my own last year, if you’ll recall. Turns out it’s more complicated than simply being “unaging”. An Immortal ages normally, and can even choose to pass away from old age if they so wish. But, they can also “reset” to the age of 25 from any age past it. Wild! 

The memory of seeing it in action still gives me goosebumps. Back when I interviewed Blake Ravitz over at the dam- The work was getting to him, even at only 35 years old. I guess Immortal powers take a lot to use. But I’ve seen 40-year-old Immortals do similar jobs just fine. Maybe some Immortals have more power than others? I’ve gotta make sure I ask the next one I interview about that!

This next bit’s real juicy- “However, at the end of a grueling war between Immortals in the Dark Ages, Mortalkind forced them into hiding. No longer. I welcome the Immortals of the United States of America to reveal themselves, and I urge my fellow world leaders to do the same.”

And then she just left! Didn’t let a single person interview her! 

It took a few days after that, but shows of Immortal powers started popping up everywhere. Every single news channel in existence just had hours of B-roll playing of people doing crazy things! I think the media bigwigs were in just as much shock and awe as the rest of us!

Since then, things have been weirdly calm. Sure, you have the occasional anti-Immortal protest, but I think the type who like to punish people for being themselves tend not to be as powerful as they like to pretend they are when faced with firebending, lightning-shooting, flying wizard people!

Otherwise, you mostly have Immortals just… Living life, but with the option to use their powers. I mentioned Blake Ravitz working at the dam, but I’ve also heard about psychic warehouse workers, and zookeepers that make the animals the happiest anyone’s ever seen them!

And the best part? This isn’t ruining the workforce! I mean, there aren’t really any Immortal abilities I know about that can help you flip burgers or run the register, so we aren’t fully out of crap jobs, unfortunately. But the thing is, Immortals have always been among us. If anything, the workforce kinda just got shuffled around a bit.

There is one sticking point, though- While law enforcement now has Immortal powers to work with, so do criminals. As such, things on that end have been a rapid cat-and-mouse endeavor trying to match the right Immortal cops with the right areas of jurisdiction to best deal with whatever powers the criminals there have.

And, unfortunately, my lovely home of San Francisco has been one of the places that hasn’t quite caught up on that front. We’ve been dealing with a rash of bank robberies that the SFPD can’t pin down. 

But, that’s not for this post. I’ll be doing a deep dive on that particular story in my next article. Who knows, maybe the problem will be resolved before then!

#writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #urban fantasy #resistant to darkness

[firstdegreefangirl]

July 2023 Reading Wrap-Up

Total books read: 6 

Total pages read: 2,048 

Days read: 24/31 

Average star rating: 4.46/5 

Challenge Prompts Filled: 8 in July; 74 total. Popsugar: 1(24)/40.   Romanceopoly: 4 (22)/36. CRAD: 1(7)/12. BTBL: 2(21)/52 

Mini-reviews under the cut!

Christmas Angels by Nancy Naigle  ⭐⭐⭐(½)  What a way to kick off Christmas in July reading! I wanted something that would read with Hallmark movie vibes, and this was PERFECT. Big city exec moves to a small town and takes over the family inn? Where she hires a handsome construction man to help get it ready for open? Sign me UP. It was funny, it was light hearted, merry and bright, and gave me warm fuzzy emotions in just the right places. I loved the motif with the angels coming up with a sort of spiritual reverence, but still finding a logical, yet meaningful closure at the end. Very cute, very sweet, made me want to give up my corporate hospitality job and go buy a tiny mountain lodge of my own.  

Prompts filled: BTBL – Cozy read or cover; Romanceopoly – Winter/cover is blue, black or silver; or winter holiday book 

The Christmas Wedding Guest by Susan Mallery  ⭐⭐⭐⭐(½)  I meant to get to this one back at the holidays, and I’m SO glad I finally made the time now. As usual, Susan Mallery hits it out of the park, this time with an added boost of holiday spirit! It’s a double romance – rockstar/small town girl and teacher/parent, two EXCELLENT tropes. I think it’s supposed to kick off her new series, and I can’t wait to see what else comes of the worldbuilding. There are a few characters I’m already eyeing for hopeful plots in the next stories. And yes, again, there’s a hotel at the holidays involved. What can I say? I have a type. 

Prompts filled: BTBL – All the romance; Romanceopoly – Autumn/red or green cover; or has trees and leaves on the cover; or has a cozy vibe 

Home for Christmas by Camille Isley ⭐⭐⭐ ⭐ ⭐  No hotel this time, but still lots of holiday travel! This was laugh out loud funny, sweet, romantic, grumpy, sunshine-y and everything in between. I blew through it in like three days and have already downloaded two other books by the same author. We love a writer romance, and a not-quite-only-one-bed, but definitely not enough beds forced proximity setup. This one was different than I usually read too, because not ONLY was there a romance budding, but family dynamics fitting together right out of the gate. It’s a predictable plot, but as we know, sometimes that’s exactly what I want. Give me a prank war with a guaranteed happy ending and lots of Christmas merriment, and I am a happy camper.  

Prompts filled: Popsugar – A book that was self-published 

A Very Merry Bromance by Lissa Kay Adams  ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐  Listen. I knew I would like this one. Anyone who’s listened to me talk about my taste in books probably knew I would like this one. And I LOVED it. Bromance Book Club is possibly the best series I’ve read in a long time, and this one is right in line with the rest of them. It’s funny, it’s sweet, it’s … I mean, the romance goes without saying, but it’s romantic. And this one is Christmassy too, which just makes things better. It’s so fun reading not only the Bromance stories, but the little snippets of the stories the guy are reading throughout the book, but as usual my one regret is that those books don’t exist in full. I’d read the CRAP out of them. As it is, I’ve been thinking about Colton and Gretchen even DAYS after I finished the book. 15/10 recommended to anyone who’s looking for something bright and fun and festive, with just enough emotion to bring tears to your eyes, and always, ALWAYS a big gesture before the happy ending. 

Prompts filled: None, I just really wanted to read it! 

Christmas at the Island Hotel by Jenny Colgan  ⭐⭐⭐ (¾)  A last minute pick, designed to fit the CRAD prompt for the month. I own many Christmas books, but as it turns out, all of them are set here in the US. Ended up with this one as an eBook from the library, following some very specific search parameters. It was … alright, and I enjoyed almost every minute of reading it, but it’s not something I think I’d choose to read again. Generally I’m more romance, less women’s fiction, but this book was definitely more women’s fiction than romance. And sure, it’s good to read outside my comfort zone – and this was a good story, without a doubt – but I found myself frustrated a couple of times when it felt like the author was dancing around the romantic elements. The relationships are there, a couple of them are hinted at, but I would have liked to see them fleshed out a little further. That said, Isla and Konstantin are definitely one of the cutest relationship arcs I’ve read in a hot minute. I just wish the other pairings had gotten a little bit of that depth too.  

Prompts filled: Romanceopoly – Post Office/set in a different country to where you live; CRAD July – set in a different country or world [to June] 

The Christmas Wager by Holly Cassidy  ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐  Alright, full disclosure: I technically finished this at like 1 a.m. on 1 August. But I hadn’t gone to bed yet, and the day isn’t over until I go to sleep, and I would have been done earlier if half a dozen things had gone differently over the weekend. And it was good enough for me to stay up past midnight, running on like three hours of sleep. Of all the books I read this month, it’s definitely top two (and that’s up with some tough competition). I loved the fun, silly competitions, and the heartwarming family dynamics. This book would make an EXCELLENT movie; I could picture so many of the scenes playing out clearly inside my head. It read just like a romance novel should, from start to end, and I’m already eager to find more of the author’s work to read in the future! 

Prompts filled: Romanceopoly – Library/free choice 

#katie reads #kr23 #july #katie christmases #christmas in july

[burntoasters]

Personal Rant/Vent

The last week of my life has been a complete blur and I feel like I’ve been awake for a week straight. Maybe getting it out of my head will help me get my shit together.

For starters, at my job I’m the assistant manager, and usually my job is just splitting the work between me and the other manager. The nice thing though is that he has to make all the final decisions. So if I don’t want to make a decision about something or know what to do, I just have him tell me or the others.

Well he’s been out of town for the last week and won’t be back for another day. So that means ALL responsibility has fallen on me. I have to make sure everything single thing is done and done right. The owner is really not the best boss. Since most of the people he works with directly are family members, when he comes over to my room to talk to my guys he never really knows what’s going on. My Lady Boss is the one I usually report to on a daily basis cause the owner really only handles “business”. The first day of me being solo manager he came in half way through the day and dropped a ton of shit on me that had to get done that day and I immediately had a panic attack. He has a record of being in the room with his son while working on broken machines and arguing very loudly in front of others. He’s also yelled at the other manager. And like I have trauma, I can’t handle shit like that. I’ll have to clock out and go cry in one of the cooler for a bit if he pulls that shit with me. I grew up in a house filled with yelling, so when I became an adult I made it a big deal that my house would be a safe space for me and there would be no yelling and screaming. And my roommate and I have never had an issue with that because we both have the same mindset on that kind of stuff. So since I’m never around yelling or screaming or loud angry arguments, my brain doesn’t know how to react to them anymore and just completely shut down.

So now I’ve been incharge for for about 5 straight days and I am EXHAUSTED! Usually me and the other manager switch on who takes a lunch and who stays to help customers while everyone else takes lunch. Since it’s just me, I have to work through lunch. I still get to eat, but I can’t just sit around the entire 40 minutes since I’m still clocked in. I’ve slept maybe 5 hours total and it’s been the hottest week in a very long time.

ON TOP OF THAT GARBAGE, OUR FUCKING AC BROKE! It’s 94 degrees in my house as I’m typing this. We have cats and dogs cause my roommate does foster and rescue and we are so worried about them. Our landlord is a piece of shit and said she couldn’t get anyone out until the next morning even though it is very much an EMERGENCY! I asked a guy at my work if he could help and he said that he could fix it. Long story short, he couldn’t, it was a big waste of time, and apparently he used to be a {error} addict, so when we were leaving his place to go to mine, we got pulled over. This mother fucker searched my entire fucking car, and pulled me away to ask me questions like “Do you know who you have in your vehicle? Who is he to you?” THE FUCKING MAINTENANCE GUY AND I ASKED GIM TO FIX MY BEOKEN AC CAUSE ITS 90 DEGREES IN MY HOUSE WITH ANIMALS!

So my roommate is staying with people in AC while I sit in 95 degrees with cats who are also miserable still waiting for the people our landlord said would come “some time today” at 6:30 in the morning, and it is currently 4:15.

I didn’t sleep last night or the day before. Since I knew I wasn’t sleeping in this heat I decided to chugged 3 spiked lemons which I do not recommend, even when you do have AC.

Heat is so overstimulating to me, especially being sweaty so I am just beyond uncomfortable. I’m walking around my house shirtless which I have NEVER done in my life. I hate looking at my body but I hate sweating even more. Cat and dog hair stick to ever part of my body because of the sweat. I’m taking random quick cold showers as ways to pass time.

I just want to sit in a cold room in a hoodie and sweatpants with headphones on, oblivious to the world around me

I also had a {relapse} for something I used to do as a teenager but we don’t talk about that.

Doesn’t exist if they can’t see it

#vent post #personal vent #why am i even here #it’s so fucking hot #why is the south literally hell

[benrunschicago]

236 Days until Chicago

So much to cover, where to begin!

I became disconsolate when I saw my weight wasn’t budging and I felt big and heavy. There are two months until the next Army unit weigh-in, so I threw nearly everything out the door and said: I got to switch gears. The scale is stubbornly stuck on 91 kilos. In my mind I keep thinking: 15 seconds less per 5 pounds lost, if I lose 40 pounds that would be two minutes per mile, I’d be doing 10 minutes per mile as my easy Zone two pace.

I’ve done some things that should pay off in the long term: I cut out peanut butter, I cut out chocolate, and I eat a big fruit salad everyday with a dozen different types of fruit, nuts, seeds, bee pollen, yogurt, and honey.

But I’m not sure this will cut it. I think I ruined my metabolism by starving myself for previous Army weigh-in’s—sometimes eating a very small handful of real meals over the course of a month—and I think now the solution to fix that is maybe to rebuild my body and change my body composition.

So I spent last week 1) more body-weight exercises 2 do the Bigger Leaner Stronger plan, which is focused on the Big 3 moves: barbell squats, bench press, and dead lifts. Then 3) I wrote out my Army two-mile run program into a ten page infosheet.

As part of that I started doing it. I said, hey, sure, I certainly have built up an aerobic base this past month. I can start doing tempo runs for 10-20 minutes and get a good score in two months when we do the Army Combat Fitness Test.

The basic gist is you run close to your target speed for half a mile, while feeling like you are running “comfortably hard”. From there each time you can you try to add a quarter mile at the same speed. Once you achieve the two mile distance, you increase the speed slowly over time to the target speed. Then there, you once again continue to add more miles until you’re going at least twice as far as you need to. This link to the PDF here shows the whole plan.

I did this, and already it’s been a big boon for me:

My first day I chose 8.5 mph, or 7:04 pace. I did it for half a mile, and a half of a mile felt like a big stretch, but still relatively reasonable, a.k.a. comfortably hard. Mind you, my month and a half of base building I always ran 12:30 or 13:00 min/mile

Two days off

2nd day: hit my C goal, which is always to do as good as I did the previous time, then hit my B goal, which was to hit 0.75 miles at that speed. Next time, I said, I think I can hit 1 mile.

Two days off, plus one run of 7 miles in the park at easy pace.

3rd hard day (today): hit my C and B goals, which I felt confident doing and knew that I would be able to as soon as I hit the half mile mark and felt strong and fresh still. A goal is to go a little farther than I had planned. B goal : 1 mile, so A goal was 1.25. And I hit that and felt good. I even sped up the treadmill two clicks to 8.7 mph for the last quarter mile.

When I did the 7 mile run in the park, I surprised myself by being able to run leisurely and my mile times were dipping below 12:00. I guess speed is paying off already!

If I can truly change my body composition, then these speeds will be even easier to maintain. I looked at my wife and told her how the speed I ran today is the one I hope to run in seven and a half months! But for 25 miles longer.

What else is new?

I did so much toe yoga that I came close to getting a condition, so I backed off. This is related to how I had foot surgery and now that little toe feels useless.

Also I’m very excited to se me that the other big gym here has a few manual treadmills, which are perfect for learning how to run with good form!

[aleonthis]

Epiphany or newfound misery?

Not sure how to start. I do want to mention that this is a rough realization I’ve come to, I did not want to realize this but my friends and wine helped. After a lengthy mental breakdown that lasted approximately 40 minutes and consisted of me sobbing my eyes out and telling my cousin and her friends why I have the urge to always be with someone, I finally felt this sense of freedom within myself. 

I have always felt as though the way to live my life freely and without any messes was to avoid my problems as long as I possibly could. well I need to say that I was really really wrong, because every time that I have done this it has come back to bite me in the rear end. 

During the breakdown I came to the conclusion that I have never taken the time to heal in this all around year, I went from a momma’s boy who was a pathological liar to a girl that was trying to control everyone to feel ok with her lack of control in her life, to a guy that didn't like me back enough and used me for my body, to a guy who cheated on his partner with me, to someone who claimed who loved me and spent a lot of money on me not because I asked him to but because I thought he genuinely wanted to and not because he thought that was what was keeping me with him, and he was also a pathological liar, after this traumadump of a season I went on to date another person who was eventually going to leave. and don't get me wrong, I like him, but not enough, I certainly do not love him. I know what love is, don't get me wrong, but this is not the type of love I need in my life right now, and I genuinely do not believe that he is actually in love with me. I know I could be wrong, but I am hoping I’m not and he will take this lightly when I end up telling him that it’s over between us. 

I feel so lost, and I feel like if I don't find a mate now I never will, because my friends are right, I don't think I am worth the wait, I don't think I’m the person who ends up happy in the end. This mindset has been engraved so deep into my brain that I need to force it out. It’s so ridiculous when you KNOW you deserve more but the fear of rejection stops you from pursuing what is actually meant to find you. disappointing really.

Anyway, all of this to say, I am making the path, I am taking the step to heal. I am taking accountability for my own experiences in the past, present and future. I learned long ago that what happened to me shouldn't be the only thing defining me, so why change that mindset now? why sabotage my success and dim my light? because I’m afraid? I don't accept it, I was born for greatness, and I am not going to let myself ruin this for myself because of the damned Jonah complex Maslow was talking about. I made fun of it and now I am the living proof of it and let me tell you, it is sickening. 

So I’m putting an end to it. I WILL BE GREAT, ALONE. and if I do meet someone in the meantime that adds something to my mess then so be it, but for now, over and out.

[admhawthorne]

Mother says my father was a good man with a good heart, and I believe her because he was this world’s last main character hero. I’ve read a lot of stories about his adventures and misadventures over the years. I even learned how he came to have an arch nemesis, which is how he died. Apparently, they got into a fight when Father was on the way to the hospital for my birth, and he was killed just a few minutes after I was born.

Most people would call that a tragic back story.

Me? I would call that a Wednesday.

See, I was born with my father’s bright pink hair, which, everyone has told me, means I’m supposed to be the main character, and Mother has fretted over this for as long as I can remember. She’s tried her best to guide me as best she can so that I wouldn’t get caught up in main character hijinks, but she’s objectionably terrible at it, and sometimes she’s the reasons the hijinks even started.

The things is, I have no interest in following in Father’s footsteps. Being a main character is too much work. As soon as I was old enough to understand my situation, which was around 3-years-old, I decided to avoid it by pretending to not understand it. Yes, I realize 3 is too young for anyone to be that cognitively developed, but I’m the main character, remember? In fact, I know I’m a character written in a story right now. Fourth wall breaks are just part of it when you’re the chosen one or whatever.

So, I decided that my father’s tragic death, which should’ve catapulted my tragic back story into me becoming the next fighting main character hero would just not happen. When his nemesis came calling for me around the time one would expect me to be ready to pick up the mantle, I acted as though they were trying to sell me cookies, politely declined them, and trotted off to catch the bus so I wasn’t late to class. I’ve never seen someone deflate so quickly before or since; it was hilarious.

Multiple times during grade school I could have been in the middle of a love triangle or harem type situation, but, again, I had no interest, so I’d just avoid it by either changing after school clubs citing I was bored, or I’d manipulate the situation to get the other two who would be in the love triangle to date each other.

Over and over again, I’ve cunningly avoided starting my hero journey because I expertly and seemingly obliviously avoided the signs. Really, I’ve been very Machiavellian about it all. If someone came looking for an adventurer to help them, I direct them a local guild. When I manifested powers, I was so annoyed that I used them to shut them off for a few years and only told Mother about it, just in case something went wrong later on, so no one has ever known me to be the chosen one.

I can cook or create astonishing items no one has ever tasted or seen, but I only do it for Mother because I am way too lazy to start a business or whatever, and why should I when I could just go to work for 40 hours a week and call it a week? God, owning a business is too much work.

I hate sports; it’s just a recipe for someone finding out I’m extraordinary, so I don’t play them ever, not even tossing a ball to a kid who’s lost it, which means my superpowered abilities like my strength and speed are hardly ever used. No one knows I have them, so no one pressures me to use them. A few weeks ago, I figured out I could actually fly, and the first thing I did was buy a bus pass because a pink haired woman flying through the sky would definitely start some kind of quest line. When Mother asked me about it, I told her flying would mess up my clothes and hair; it was a good enough reason to appease her curiosity.

I’m 25 now, and I still spend every day finding ways to “accidently” not become the main character. I’ve been surprised for years now that Mother hasn’t figured out that I’m actually doing this on purpose.

Then today, she asked me if I felt as though I was missing out on something in my life since it was obvious I was supposed to be a main character but I was living a secondary, or maybe even a lesser than that, character’s life, and I looked at Mother like she was the dumbest person I’d ever known because, bless her heart, she was being so naïve.

“Mother,” I said incredulously, “do you really think I’m not the main character?”

She was clearly baffled, and I had to roll my eyes at her for that. I leaned over her kitchen table and asked her in a mock conspiratorial voice, “Maybe my main character power is the power to not be the main character. Have you ever thought of that?”

She leaned back in in her chair, dazed by this possibility. I stood up with a bounce and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I’m headed home. Call me if you need anything,” I called over my shoulder as I left to give her time to digest what I’d just told her. I yelled out a ‘goodbye’ and a ‘love you’ before the door closed behind me, and I’m now waiting for her to call me once she’s gotten over the shock of it all.

#admhawthorne #redditwritingprompt

[twigstarpikachutroll22]

3, 4, 5, 11, 18, 19, 34, 37, 38, 40

*Berry flicks me in the back of the head with her fingers*

Ow!

"Hey Twig, you've been forgetting that when Sparkle sends asks they're for both of us again. I'm jumping in on this post now. We get in double the amount of songs that way."

Oh! Okay! Sorry. I'm really sorry I don't know why the frick I keep forgetting--

"It’s. It’s fine. Honestly, I forget too, which is kinda even more upsetting. Well anyways, I'm here now. And I can go through your previously answered asks and get on any of those I’ve missed after."

3) a song tied to a specific moment in your life

Not really a specific moment so much a specific period of time, but, Problem Child by Simple Plan reminds me very strongly of 6th grade.

"The Middle of a Moment from the James and the Giant Peach musical adaptation reminds me of when I first left home."

4) a song that is not sung in your native language

H@ppy Together from Fresh Precure.

"Aisling's song from The Secret of Kells!"

YOOOOOO WHY DIDN'T THAT ONE OCCUR TO ME FIRST KJGSHDGKJSDLIGBSDAG

"I have no idea. That was like, your favorite scene back when you were watching The Secret of Kells like, every day."

I mean. Technically that one has a line that's in english.

"Yeah, exactly ONE line. That comes around like, twice. The entire rest of the song is not in english. It counts.

...If it doesn't count, Imma say Histoire de Mensonges by Fred Pellerin."

OH POOP WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF PRISENCOLINENSINAINCIUSOL

"WHY DIDN'T YOU OH MY GOD anyway that's already FOUR songs instead of two, next question."

5) a song over 5 minutes long

The Old Witch Sleep and the Good Man Grace by The Amazing Devil.

"The Most Unwanted Song!"

dsjhfsdkjg the way I'm the one who names a song by the band that makes everything sound like something out of high fantasy, and my best friend who's literally fae names the song literally crafted in a lab to be the worst song ever.

*Berry shoves me*

11) something you'd give ANYTHING to hear performed live

What comes to mind is musicals that I’ve listened to the soundtrack of but haven’t seen. Saw the Hamilton proshoot but never saw it live, seeing it live really really must be AMAZING.

“I think if somecreature were able to perform The Disappearance of Hatsune Miku live I would HAVE to see that.”

JFOISDHGOUASDGBISDGUISDVGIUSDVUIFAVSDIUGVUISDBGSDUIAGDSIVUIVGUIDSVUIFVSDUIVGUISDFDSUVGDIUSVGDAISUGAS okay your answer’s entirely a jillion times better than mine and I 100,000% agree.

“Aurelio Voltaire songs must be amazing live too, if we had to stick to like, naturally humanly possible things.

But seriously. Disappearance of Hatsune Miku.”

Yes.

18) a song that demands lip syncing into a makeshift microphone

What comes immediately to mind is 30/90 from Tick Tick Boom but it's not lip syncing so much as fully belting along to it so really it's more of an answer to 16 than 18.

"Yeah, this is kind of a hard one for us 'cause we don't really DO lip-syncing so much as just singing along, huh? Hmm. I do see you lip-sync to Taylor Swift songs when they come on out loud a lot though."

Yeah sometimes it’s ‘cause I’m in a context I’m not totally comfortable singing aloud in, and sometimes it’s just ‘cause if I try to sing along it’s hard not to automatically try to match the key and my voice isn’t high enough for that. Hmm. Still doesn't feel like a proper answer.

"Might be best to just go onto the next question or we'll probably be stuck on this one for a ridiculous amount of time."

Yeah, I guess.

19) the last song you had stuck in your head

It keeps changing every minute, bro. At this particular second of me typing this, it's All Hallows by Aviators but also They Come In The Night by Elise Ecklund and also some other song I forget the name of but mostly All Hallows. It'll be something entirely different by the time we're done with these asks.

34) a song you'd like your favorite artist to cover

I mean, we have a LOT of favorite artists...

"Ooooooh! What about a Rachie or Jubyphonic english cover of Fear Garden or Scissorloid?”

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Y E S

OR OF THIS IS THE HAPPINESS AND PEACE OF MIND COMMITTEE

“OH MY GOD YES. WE NEED A RACHIE OR JUBYPHONIC COVER OF THAT ASAP.”

37) a song you're ashamed to have in your music library

Several fan songs for media I consume secondhand.

*Berry smirks at me and takes a bite out of the cookie she's eating*

*she looks at you* "I can't give an answer of my own for this because I have no shame."

38) okay what's the song you were too ashamed to even post for #37

*i sit there sweating, mouth clamped shut*

*Berry just looks at me*

"How long will you drag this out, Twig?"

I'm GONNA come clean eventually, just not in an ask that's posted for EVERYCREATURE who looks at my tumblr to see!

"Fair."

40) favorite disney song

Are we counting TV shows or only movies? 'Cause I have a bunch of favorite Sofia the First songs and a bunch of favorite Phineas and Ferb songs, which feels pretty separate from Disney movies--

"I think we’re just counting movies. I dunno, just feels like that was probably the original intent with this question."

Ah.

...Well, cliche as it is, I might actually have to say Let It Go. It WAS genuinely in my top 3 favorites for years after Frozen came out. Don't anycreature judge, it's a genuinely good song, y'all are just mad because it’s been overplayed to the extreme. 

"Hmmmm. Hard decision for me. I wanna say something from Tangled the series, maybe Wind In My Hair or Waiting In The Wings or Nothing Left To Lose--and SERIOUSLY it’s hard to choose between those--but I also kinda feel like saying The Next Right Thing from Frozen 2? I dunno, we’ve seen some videos talking about some of the making of that song and some of the music theory in it, and the Frozen people really did go hard with that portrayal of hitting absolute rock bottom emotionally and trying to pull yourself up just the tiniest little bit at a time.”

It’s true.

“Welp! That was fun! 😄”

We really do have to get better at remembering to BOTH answer Sparkle’s asks gsudbagisbgiiau

“Yeah.”

#song stuck in my head NOW is Hell's Coming With Me by Poor Man's Poison

[troubleabroad]

Zombies in Cow Town

Tell you what, this jet lag thing aint it.

Woke up feeling like death warmed up, but the show must go on. Today we ventured off to Fort Worth, also known as cowtown do to being the largest cattle market in the world. Unfortunately its not easy to get to Fort Worth, so we took a 40 minute uber there. 40 minutes when you feel like trash is a long time, let me tell you that.

We arrived in fort worth and had a stroll of their ‘Strip’. First impressions is that its a giant tourist trap town. Multiple gift stores selling cowboy paraphernalia, ‘Murica paraphernalia, and one store that had too large a collection of ‘Trump 2024’ merch. Wasn’t even joke stuff either, this was genuine bring him back type merchandise. Most things were overpriced and tacky, but I guess its what the fans want.

From the strip of shops, we then found the Fort Worth mecca. Billy Bob’s Texas Honky Tonk.

Its hard to describe Billy Bob’s. It can hold 6,000 people, has its own bull riding area, large indoor stage, at least 6 bars (that i could see), gift shop, line dancing stage, concrete hand print wall of fame and restaurant all within its 100,000 square feet building. The place was huge. It was a pity that everything hurt and i couldn’t function to take it all in.

We enjoyed the aircon at billy bobs for a little while, before venturing back out into the heat and to find our position for the twice daily long horn parade! Side note, I’ve not mentioned the weather, Everyday has been mid-high 30’s. Our winter melbourne bodies are not built ford tough for this.

We found a spot along the street for the longhorn parade.

Longhorns are big cattle. Bigger than you think.

About half a dozen or so longhorn cows make the slow track from one holding yard to another, guided by cowboys on horses to make sure there aren’t any runners. I’d hate to be around one if it was in a crappy mood and wanted to leg it…

After the short lived parade, we went and checked them out in their holding pen. From above you can really appreciate just how big their horns are. Kinda impressive that they can keep their heads up. Once the parade was over, the town pretty much emptied out completely, so we started our journey back to Dallas, still not feeling like humans. We got home and I needed a nanna nap, it helped a bit but jet lag is a tough battler.

In a smart move, I left my hat at woolies last night, so we went to retrieve that as well as have a look at the grassy knoll where JFK was shot many moons ago.

Not being of the era, it didn’t really hit home all that much. Maybe had we done a tour of the building he was shot from it would be different, but it was just another road with an ‘X’ on the ground. Nice park area though.

After that went back to the hotel and over the road to Ferris Wheelers. A BBQ joint with its own ferris wheel & mini carnival out the back!

Had a small bit of food and enjoyed the nice evening weather, before heading back to pack and organise a car to drive from Dallas to Austin tomorrow morning. Not a religious man, but praying that i don’t feel like this tomorrow while having to navigate american road rules and a 3hr drive.. Pray for Mojo.