#i’d keep this to myself but the tweet is too good

[bravevolunteer]

me listening to the deal and i’m your man

[passengerprincessblog]

“Off Track” ~ Pt 7 Franco x reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, angst, cheating, arguments.

Summary: In the glitz and glamour of Vegas, Y/N’s carefully balanced secrets come crashing down when Lewis confronts her, forcing her to face the consequences of her betrayal.

The restaurant was stunning, even by Vegas standards—dimly lit with sparkling chandeliers that looked like they were dripping with diamonds. Everything about it screamed exclusivity, from the pristine table settings to the whispered voices of waiters who moved gracefully between tables. I sat across from Lewis, dressed impeccably as always, his sleek black suit practically gleaming under the soft light. He looked like he belonged here, a man who could command any room, any conversation, without even trying.

Me? I felt like a fraud, like I was sitting under a spotlight that only I could see, the guilt simmering in my chest. My heart pounded as I stared down at my phone, scrolling through Twitter, where the screenshot of Franco’s liked tweet had gone viral.

The tweet: “Y/N is so pretty, Lewis can you fight?!.”

The like: Franco Colapinto.

The internet had exploded. Fans speculated wildly—some thought it was cute, others joked that Franco was crushing on me. A few even suggested something more, which only made my stomach churn harder. I’d been avoiding Franco’s texts for days, but now this was out there for everyone to see. It was impossible to ignore. And worst of all, I had no idea if Lewis had seen it.

I scrolled a little further, skimming through comments. “Franco’s brave lol.”

“Y/N and Franco would make a cute couple though…”

“Lewis has some competition 👀.”

My phone slipped slightly in my hand, and I quickly locked the screen, placing it face-down on the table. My pulse quickened as I looked up, meeting Lewis’s gaze. He was studying me, one eyebrow raised in that way he always did when he was suspicious.

“You good?” he asked, setting his fork down and crossing his arms. His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. “You didn’t eat much.”

My face flushed, and I felt like I was on the verge of breaking into a sweat. Did he know? Was he just waiting to bring it up? I forced myself to smile, desperate to keep my cool. “Oh… no, I mean yes. I’m fine. It’s just… the food’s not that good.” The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.

Lewis didn’t react, but his eyes narrowed slightly, studying me. He wasn’t buying it. “Okay,” he said slowly, leaning back in his chair. “Well, you need to eat something.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he was already waving down the waiter. “Yes, sir?” the man asked, his tone polite and professional.

“Would you mind taking this back? And she’ll have the cappelletti,” Lewis said smoothly, gesturing to my untouched plate. The waiter nodded and whisked the plate away.

I rolled my eyes, annoyed and stressed, and it all came out directed at him. “I didn’t need a whole other plate of food, Lewis,” I said, my tone sharper than I intended.

He didn’t flinch, his calm demeanor irritating me further. “Well, just have some of it,” he replied softly, reaching across the table to take my hand. His thumb brushed over my knuckles, a gesture that usually calmed me but now made my stomach twist with guilt. “What’s wrong? You’re acting all jumpy.”

I shrugged, trying to play it off. “I guess I just had too much caffeine today.” I offered a weak laugh, hoping it would lighten the mood. To my relief, he smiled, but it didn’t feel entirely genuine.

“Mhmm,” he said, sitting back in his chair and letting go of my hand. He crossed his arms again, his expression unreadable. Then, casually, he added, “I saw something funny today.”

My heart stopped. “What was it?” I asked, my voice barely steady.

He paused, letting the silence hang for just a second too long. “It was about you,” he said, his tone light, almost teasing. “And Franco.”

My stomach flipped, heat rushing to my face. I forced myself to look at him, feigning confusion. “Hm? Me and Franco?”

“Yes. You. And Franco,” he repeated, sharper this time.

“What about me and Franco?” I asked, shifting in my seat, trying to sound indifferent.

Lewis leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “It’s stupid,” he said, a strained smile on his face. “But he liked a tweet. That said you were pretty.”

I let out a small, nervous laugh, hoping it would seem natural. “Oh? That’s interesting,” I said, pretending to brush it off, but my chest was tight, and my palms felt clammy.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Interesting? Why is that interesting?” His voice was still light, but his gaze was anything but.

I shrugged, my mind racing. “Uh… because… I don’t know, it’s just funny, I guess.” I took a sip of water to distract myself, but I could feel his eyes watching my every move.

“It’s funny?” he asked, his tone losing its playful edge. “You think it’s funny that he thinks you’re attractive?”

I looked at him, forcing a confused expression. “Lewis, come on… what do you want me to say? He liked a tweet. Big deal.” I leaned back in my chair, trying to appear nonchalant, but my voice betrayed me with a slight tremble.

Lewis’s face hardened, his expression unreadable. He picked up his napkin, placed it on the table, and stood up. “Let’s go,” he said curtly.

I blinked, confused and panicked. “But… my food?”

He motioned for me to stand as he held out his hand. “I can get you food at the hotel. Now, come on,” he said, his tone soft but firm.

I hesitated, but the look on his face left no room for argument. I stood, grabbing his hand as he led me out of the restaurant. He handed the waiter some cash on the way out, apologizing for the abrupt departure, but his grip on my hand was tight, almost possessive. My mind raced with anxious thoughts. Does he know? Does he suspect something more than just the tweet? The tension in the air was suffocating.

The ride back to the hotel was painfully silent. I glanced at him several times, trying to gauge his mood, but he didn’t look at me once. Even the elevator ride up was filled with an unbearable tension. By the time we stepped into the luxurious suite, my nerves were frayed.

Lewis closed the door behind us and slammed it shut, the sound echoing through the room and making me jump. I turned to face him, my heart pounding.

“Lewis?” I asked hesitantly.

He stood there, his expression cold and unreadable. “Give me your phone,” he said calmly.

My heart dropped. “What? Why?” I asked, forcing a laugh to mask my panic.

“Y/N. Don’t do this,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Just let me see your phone.”

I smiled, trying to deflect. “Lewis, baby… what? Why? What’s wrong?” I said sweetly, stepping closer to him.

His eyes softened for a moment, like he was begging me to prove him wrong. “If you don’t show me your phone, I’m going to assume you have something to hide,” he said, his voice low and filled with quiet intensity.

I froze, my mind racing. Oh god. He knows.

I froze, my mind scrambling to find a way out, my heart pounding so hard I thought he might hear it. “Lewis,” I started, my voice faltering, “what… what are you even talking about? I don’t have anything to hide.”

His eyes narrowed, and I could see the hurt beneath the coldness in his expression. “Then show me,” he said softly, but there was a sharp edge to his tone, like this was his final offer. “If there’s nothing, show me your phone.”

I tried to smile, to ease the tension, but it came out all wrong—strained, almost guilty. “Lewis… this is crazy. You’re being paranoid.”

“Am I?” he shot back, his voice rising slightly. He stepped closer, and I instinctively backed up, bumping into the edge of the bed. “Because for weeks now, you’ve been acting different. Distant. Nervous. Like your mind is somewhere else. And now this—Franco liking a tweet about you? And you think I’m paranoid?”

I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, guilt and panic crashing over me in waves. “Lewis, stop. You’re making this into something it’s not,” I said, my voice trembling.

“Then prove it,” he said again, his tone firmer this time, his jaw tight. “Prove to me I’m wrong. Because right now, Y/N, it feels like you’re lying to my face.”

I shook my head, swallowing hard. “This isn’t fair. You don’t trust me, and now you’re demanding to see my phone? Do you realize how crazy that sounds?”

He let out a sharp laugh, the sound devoid of humor. “You’re deflecting. Again. You think I don’t notice? You think I haven’t noticed how you’ve stopped calling me ‘lovie,’ how you barely look at me when we’re together?” He paused, his voice cracking slightly. “I know you, Y/N. Better than anyone. And I know when something is wrong.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came out. My defenses were crumbling, and he could see it. His eyes softened for a brief moment, like he was giving me one last chance.

“Please,” he said quietly, his voice almost breaking. “If I’m wrong, just tell me. Tell me I’m imagining things. Show me there’s nothing to worry about.”

I stared at him, my throat tightening. Every excuse, every lie I had ready to say felt hollow and wrong. My silence only seemed to confirm his worst fears.

His face changed—his expression hardening, his disappointment cutting deeper than any words could. “Y/N,” he said, his voice low and dangerous now, “if you don’t tell me the truth right now, I’ll assume the worst. And I’m not the kind of man who tolerates being disrespected.”

I felt the tears spilling over, hot and stinging as they ran down my cheeks. “Lewis…” I whispered, my voice breaking.

He stepped back, crossing his arms, his gaze cold now. “Did you?” he asked simply, his tone flat. “Did you sleep with him?”

My heart shattered at his words, the weight of my guilt suffocating me. I wanted to lie, to deny it, to do anything to make this go away, but the truth was written all over my face.

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Oh my god,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “You did. Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I stammered, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “It just… happened. I didn’t mean for it to—”

“You didn’t mean for it to?” he interrupted, his voice rising with anger. “What the fuck does that even mean? You accidentally ended up in bed with him?”

I flinched at his words, my tears falling freely now. “Lewis, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I love you—”

“Don’t,” he snapped, his voice raw with emotion. “Don’t stand there and tell me you love me after what you’ve done. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done this.”

I felt my legs weaken, my body trembling as I tried to hold myself together. “Lewis, please,” I begged, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll do anything to fix this. I don’t want to lose you.”

He looked at me then, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger, hurt, and disgust. “Fix this?” he repeated, his voice dripping with bitterness. “You can’t fix this, Y/N. You can’t undo what you’ve done.”

He turned away, pacing the room as he ran his hands through his hair, his frustration palpable. After a moment, he stopped, his back to me as he spoke. “Pack your things,” he said quietly, his voice steady but cold. “I want you out of here.”

“Lewis, no,” I cried, stepping toward him. “Please, don’t do this. I’ll do anything—”

“Don’t,” he said sharply, spinning around to face me. His eyes were red, his jaw tight. “Don’t make this harder than it already is. I gave you everything, Y/N. I loved you more than anything. And this… this is how you repay me?”

His words hit me like a blow, and I felt my knees buckle as I sank onto the edge of the bed, sobbing. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice broken. “I’m so sorry.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his face unreadable, before turning and walking toward the door. “I’ll be back in an hour,” he said without looking at me. “Be gone by then.”

The door slammed shut behind him, and I felt my entire world collapse around me. The man I loved—the man who had been my everything—was gone. And it was all my fault.

I sat there on the edge of the bed, staring at the closed door, my sobs the only sound in the vast, luxurious hotel suite. My mind was a whirlwind of guilt, panic, and heartbreak. The weight of everything crashed down on me all at once, suffocating and inescapable. What have I done? I kept asking myself. What have I done to him? To us? To myself?

For a moment, I couldn’t move. I just sat there, my tears soaking the fabric of my dress, my chest heaving with silent cries. Lewis was gone, and this time it felt permanent. There was no reassuring hand on my back, no soft “angel” whispered in my ear. He was done with me. And I couldn’t even blame him.

I forced myself to stand, my legs shaky and weak as I dragged myself to my suitcase. The silence in the room was deafening, save for the occasional hiccup that escaped me as I tried to pull myself together. My hands trembled as I packed my things, throwing clothes and shoes into the bag without any care or thought. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. This wasn’t how I wanted things to go.

Halfway through, my phone buzzed on the nightstand, the sudden sound cutting through the heavy stillness. I froze, staring at it, my breath catching in my throat. For a split second, I thought—hoped—it was Lewis. Maybe he was coming back, maybe he wanted to talk, maybe there was a sliver of a chance to fix this.

But when I picked it up, the name on the screen made my heart sink and flutter at the same time.

Franco.

I stared at the phone, debating whether to answer. Part of me wanted to throw it across the room, to shut it all out and figure out a way to mend things with Lewis. But another part of me—the part that was still drawn to Franco, even in the midst of this chaos—needed to hear his voice.

I hesitated, then swiped to answer. My voice was weak and broken as I said, “Hello?”

“Hermosa,” Franco’s familiar accent filled my ear, soft and comforting. But as soon as he heard the tremble in my voice, his tone shifted. “Y/N? Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t hold it in anymore. The dam broke, and I sobbed into the phone, my voice shaking as I tried to explain. “He knows, Franco. Lewis knows…”

There was a pause on the other end, the line heavy with his silence. “He… knows?” he finally said, his voice low and filled with concern. “Knows what? About us?”

“Yes,” I whispered, choking on the word. “He asked for my phone, and I… I couldn’t lie anymore. He figured it out.”

“Y/N…” Franco’s voice softened, and I could hear the guilt in it, the same guilt that had been eating away at me for weeks. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I—” He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

I looked around the room, at the suitcase half-packed on the bed, at the door Lewis had slammed shut behind him. “I’m in the hotel,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “But… he told me to leave. He doesn’t want me here.”

“Where are you going to go?” Franco asked, his voice urgent now. “Hermosa, you can’t just be out there by yourself. Come to me. Please. I’ll take care of you.”

I hesitated, the weight of my situation pressing down on me. Part of me wanted to tell him no, to handle this on my own, to somehow find a way back to Lewis. But the thought of being alone, of facing this heartbreak by myself, was too much. I needed someone. And Franco was there.

“Okay,” I said quietly, almost defeated. “I’ll come.”

The relief in his voice was immediate. “Good. I’ll send you my room number. Just… get here as soon as you can.”

The Uber ride to Franco’s hotel was a blur. My tears had mostly dried by then, leaving me feeling empty and numb. My suitcase sat awkwardly at my feet as the car weaved through the bright lights of the Vegas strip. The glitz and glamour of the city felt like a cruel joke, mocking the disaster my life had become.

When I finally arrived at Franco’s hotel, I took a deep breath, steadying myself as I made my way to his room. The hallway was quiet, and I counted the door numbers until I reached his: 505. I knocked softly, my heart pounding in my chest.

The door opened almost immediately, and there he was. Franco stood in the doorway, dressed casually in a T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair messy and his eyes filled with concern. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at me, taking in the tear-streaked makeup and the exhaustion written all over my face.

“Hermosa…” he said softly, stepping forward to pull me into a warm hug. His arms wrapped around me, and for the first time that night, I felt a small sense of relief. I let myself sink into his embrace, letting him hold me as I fought back fresh tears.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured against my hair, his voice heavy with guilt. “This is all my fault.”

I pulled back, shaking my head as I looked up at him. “No, Franco. It’s not just you. I made choices too… bad choices. And now… I’ve lost him.”

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away the stray tears on my cheeks. “You didn’t lose him because of me. You lost him because you weren’t happy, Y/N. You know that.”

His words stung, but they also rang true. As much as I loved Lewis, as much as I wanted to believe we could work through anything, there had been cracks in our relationship long before Franco came into the picture.

“Come inside,” Franco said softly, taking my suitcase with one hand and leading me into the room with the other. The door clicked shut behind us, and I felt the weight of the world lift just slightly.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, watching as Franco set my suitcase aside. He turned back to me, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and something deeper, something I wasn’t ready to name yet.

“You’ll stay here?” he asked gently, sitting beside me. “With me?”

I nodded, my voice too weak to speak. “Please,” I finally whispered. “I don’t know where else to go.”

His lips curved into a small, soft smile as he leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. “Then stay,” he said simply, his voice soothing. “You’re safe here.” He says as he sits down next to me.

For the first time that night, I felt a glimmer of hope, even as the guilt and heartbreak lingered in the background. Franco was here. And for now, that was enough.

Franco moved closer, his hands resting lightly on my knees as he sat in front of me. His presence was grounding, his gentle touch reminding me that, for better or worse, I wasn’t alone. I felt fragile, like a cracked vase barely holding together, and he seemed to sense it, his movements slow and deliberate, as though he was afraid I might break.

“You’re exhausted,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “You’ve been through too much tonight, hermosa.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice, the ache in my chest still too raw. My gaze dropped to his hands, which were warm and steady against my knees, the opposite of the chaos swirling in my mind. I thought about everything—Lewis, the fight, the tears—and felt my throat tighten again. But before I could spiral further, Franco’s voice pulled me back.

“You deserve better than this,” he said, his accent curling around the words in a way that made them feel softer, more tender. “Better than feeling like you’re walking on eggshells. Better than being so unhappy.”

I looked up at him, my brows furrowing slightly. “It’s not that simple, Franco,” I murmured. “I hurt him. I ruined everything. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for what I’ve done.”

He shook his head, his hands sliding from my knees to gently take mine in his. His fingers brushed against my knuckles, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver down my spine. “You made a mistake, Y/N,” he said, his voice steady. “But maybe… maybe this was always going to happen. Maybe things weren’t as perfect as you thought they were.”

I blinked at him, his words hitting closer to the truth than I wanted to admit. “I loved him,” I said softly, the words catching in my throat. “I still do.”

Franco’s jaw tightened for a moment, and he looked down, like he was fighting with himself over what to say. When he lifted his gaze back to mine, his expression was both tender and determined. “I know you do,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But do you love him the way you’re supposed to? The way that makes you happy? Or do you love him because… you think you should?”

His question hung in the air between us, heavy and unavoidable. I stared at him, my mind scrambling for an answer I didn’t have. I opened my mouth, then closed it again, unable to form a response. He leaned in slightly, his dark greenish-blue eyes locking onto mine.

“You’re here, Y/N,” he said softly, but there was a hint of something darker in his tone, something almost possessive. “You chose to be here with me. That means something.”

I swallowed hard, feeling my heart race under the intensity of his gaze. I wanted to argue, to tell him this was just a temporary refuge, a place to catch my breath. But deep down, I knew there was more to it than that. I didn’t just come here because I was kicked out—I came here because I wanted to. Because Franco had become the only person I could turn to.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” I whispered, shaking my head. “It just… it got so complicated, and I didn’t know how to stop it.”

Franco reached up, brushing a stray tear from my cheek with his thumb. His touch lingered, his hand cupping my face as he leaned in closer. “Maybe it’s not complicated at all,” he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. “Maybe this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

I felt a pang of guilt twist in my chest, but it was quickly overshadowed by the pull I felt toward him, the way his words wrapped around me like a comforting blanket. He leaned in further, his lips ghosting over mine, and for a moment, I let myself fall into him, into the warmth and safety of his presence.

His lips brushed mine softly, then again, firmer this time, and I melted into the kiss. It wasn’t rushed or desperate; it was slow, deliberate, like he’d been waiting for this moment for a long time. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer as he deepened the kiss, and I let him, too tired to fight the part of me that wanted this—wanted him.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his fingers still holding my waist. His eyes searched mine, and there was a flicker of something in his expression, something that made my stomach twist.

“You know,” he said softly, his voice laced with an almost smug satisfaction, “I’ve been waiting for this moment. For you to be here. With me. Just us.”

His words made my breath catch. I blinked at him, trying to process what he’d just said, but he didn’t give me a chance to respond. He leaned in again, his lips finding mine, his hands sliding up to cradle my face as though I were something precious he couldn’t bear to lose.

For the first time, I saw it clearly—the way he looked at me, the way he touched me. This wasn’t just about comfort or attraction. This was something he’d wanted for a long time, maybe longer than I’d realized. And now, with me here in his hotel room, he had exactly what he wanted.

I felt Franco's lips press against mine once more, his kiss deepening as his hands slid up to tangle in my hair. My fingers gripped his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as I lost myself in the sensation of his mouth on mine, the taste of him filling my senses.

He leans me back ok the bed, never breaking the kiss as he laid me down gently on the plush comforter. His body hovered over mine, one hand brushing strands of hair from my face while the other trailed down my side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against my lips, his voice rough with desire.

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I arched into him, desperate for more of his touch. My hands slid under his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest, the heat of his skin. He groaned softly as I explored him, his hips pressing against mine with a promise of what was to come.

Slowly, deliberately, he began to undress me, his eyes never leaving mine as he revealed inch after inch of my bare skin. I trembled under his gaze, feeling exposed yet cherished, like the most precious thing in the world. When he finally removed my bra, he took a moment to admire my breasts, his fingers ghosting over my nipples until they pebbled beneath his touch.

"Perfect," he breathed, lowering his head to take one into his mouth. I gasped, arching off the bed as pleasure shot through me. He lavished attention on first one breast, then the other, his tongue swirling and his teeth grazing until I was writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

His hands slid down my body, pushing my panties aside as he explored my most intimate places. I was already wet, already aching for him, and he groaned against my skin at the discovery.

"So sweet," he murmured, his fingers teasing my entrance. "So perfect."

He kissed his way down my body, pausing at my navel before settling between my thighs. I tangled my fingers in his hair.

His tongue delved into me, and I cried out, my fingers tightening in his hair. He explored me with a thoroughness that left me breathless, his mouth and tongue working in tandem to bring me closer and closer to the edge.

Just as I thought I couldn't take anymore, he pulled back, licking his lips. He kissed his way back up my body, his hands caressing my skin until he reached my face. He cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing over my kiss-swollen lips.

"I want to be everything you need," he whispered, his eyes searching mine. "I want to make you forget him, forget anyone else but me."

With those words, he claimed my mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep as he pressed his body against mine. I could feel the hard length of him against my thigh, and I ached to have him inside me, to be filled and claimed by him completely.

He reached down, positioning himself at my entrance, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. With a single, steady push, he entered me, stretching and filling me in a way that made me see stars.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his head falling forward to rest against my shoulder. "You feel incredible."

He started to move, his hips rocking against mine in a steady rhythm that had me gasping and clutching at his back. Each thrust seemed to go deeper than the last, hitting a spot inside me that made my toes curl and my vision blur.

I lost myself in the sensation of him moving inside me, in the heat and the friction and the delicious pressure building within me. He changed the angle of his thrusts, and suddenly I was seeing white, my body tensing and quivering as my orgasm crashed over me.

"Yes, hermosa" he panted, his own movements becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. "Come for me, Y/N. Let me make you feel better." He coos.

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside me, his body shuddering as he found his own peak. I clung to him, my nails digging into his skin as I rode out the waves of my climax.

After we both caught our breath, Franco rolled off me, pulling me close so that my head rested on his chest. His fingers stroked through my hair, the gentle touch sending aftershocks of pleasure through my body.

"That was amazing," he murmured, placing a soft kiss on the top of my head. "You're amazing, Y/N."

I snuggled closer, relishing the warmth and security of his embrace. He offered me the use of his shower, and I gladly accepted, disappearing behind the closed door to wash away the evidence of our lovemaking.

As I stood under the hot spray, I could still feel the ghost of Franco's touch on my skin, the memory of his kisses and caresses. My mind was hazy with pleasure, my body still tingling from the intense orgasm he'd given me.

Wrapped in one of his shirts after my shower, I emerged to find Franco waiting for me, his eyes soft with affection as he took in my appearance. The shirt hung loosely on my frame, the scent of him enveloping me like a comforting blanket.

He pulled me down beside him on the bed, his arms encircling me and drawing me close. We lay there for a long time, just holding each other, exchanging soft kisses and gentle touches.

"You're special, Y/N. You're the only one I want, the only one I need."

His words were like a balm to my wounded heart, soothing the ache that had been there for so long. I realized that he was right. I'd never felt this kind of connection with Lewis, this sense of being cherished and adored.

As I lay there in Franco's arms, listening to the steady beat of his heart, I knew that I was exactly where I was meant to be. All thoughts of Lewis faded away, replaced by a growing sense of rightness, of belonging.

But as much as this moment relaxed me…. The intrusive thoughts of the days to come filled my mind with anxiety.

———————————

As always, thank you for reading and appreciating my works. 💜

l hope my writings help you unwind and escape your life in a way that is exciting to you.

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Xoxo

Princess

[captainlexapro]

Tkachuky Derby & Hughesapalooza - 2024

*click for better detail- apologies for the lighting and general quality of the pics 😓!!*

acrylic on paper

please don't steal or repost 💚

inspired by this tweet specifically (plus credit to the earliest twitter mentions i could find):

Made these for my fellow brothers bowls enthusiasts!! Especially those who know it’s all about the intricate webs of familial narratives in athletics. and the concepts of destiny and talent. and brothers as both allies and adversaries. and the bonds between siblings. and…

links to inspo, reference images, and other thoughts below the cut!

THEY'RE DONEEEEEE!! 😭🙌 i spent probably 2-3 full days' worth of time from concept sketches to final products. so much paint. so much frustration. they're still not perfect - there's little issues on both (if you notice something, i promise i'm aware of it!!) but 'fixing' stuff in acrylic often leads down a rabbit hole and i just had to call it and be done.

there's intentional little details on both - let me know what you catch! hopefully you can see them okay 😅

*i know they play each other more than once per season but i only wanted to make these for their first '24-'25 meetings)*

Let's get some whimsy up in here now, boys!

Derby:

team colors - Panthers Senators

matthew reference

brady reference

Kentucky Derby posters inspo

I wanted to keep the derby poster more 'clean' graphically. lots of derby posters have sharp lines of color and lots of movement, so i knew i wanted large swaths of the team colors somehow (thanks to the ppl that voted on my poll for what the team color shaping should be! i did follow the winning choice lol) chose poses where they look like they are moving in the direction of the 'flow.' generally wanted to keep focus on the idea of matthew vs brady, so i have them 'looking' across the way. was originally going to put in outlines of skylines for cities relevant to them, but that proved to be way too big of an undertaking so i scrapped that idea and came up with some different references. put some detailing for each of them that i'm reallyyyyy hoping you can see when you like zoom into it, but here’s some closer pics:

their last name is ukrainian for weaver, so i wanted to put a little nod to that somehow. not sure it will translate/be clear to viewers, but i limited myself by making the poster so damn small...*I* know they're there and can see them lol if it's not clear to ppl i will come back here and explicitly say what they are lol

Palooza:

team colors - Devils Canucks

luke reference

jack reference

quinn reference

Music posters inspo

inspired by lolla/music posters. wanted a more 'fun' vibe overall. while the derby poster would be more for say like, putting on a wall or hypothetically used for marketing purposes, palooza was more marketing poster and maybe on a t-shirt, too. definitely wanted a calligraphy type font for the name - just felt it out and came up with that shaping. tried to reference lolla a bit. used the devils and canucks coloring - and combo of those (did you notice?) - for the palette. wanted it to be a bit more pop graphic-ish (and hopefully not too cartoony). used some hockey/venue shapes and references, as well as some little hugheses-specific easter eggs...fun fact: the reference pic i used for jack is the EXACT SAME as his nhl25 cover. they just edited it to have the devils' home jersey colors. (i was like wait a second....i know that pose. bc i've been staring at it trying to paint it for hours!!!)

some pics of the palettes and initial sketches:

If anyone has fun nicknames for other nhl brothers bowls, i’d be open to making more posters! Lmk!

If u read all this just know i love u and hope you have a good day 🫶

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twelve

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: This part took way too long to write. Had a bit of writers block ngl, but I managed to get it done last night when I couldn't sleep. Be prepared for a load of fluff but also some surprises. It's a good chapter, I enjoyed writing it once I finally got into it! But I'm also sorry for long wait! Hopefully the next will be along soon.

> Just a reminder! We left off on the red carpet with Mouse and Matty:) You can look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 22m ago GFC Charity Event! The gals are currently live and interviewing The 1975! So far we’ve had Jamie Bell, Peter Capaldi, Dylan and Jordan Banjo! 2TIME @/user1 WHAT was that? 102 @/user2  chemistrychemistrychemistry Ugh! @/user3 SHE COOKED FOR HIM?? Soloveme? @/user4 What’s going on at this event?? It’s all over my feed😭 MILK @/user5 Screaming this is honestly all so mental Parisin75 @/user6 Wait so they’re friends now? Or is something else happening?? > Too_shy @/user7 Last time I checked but he seemed so happy on the carpet, and he wouldn’t look into the lens at all. His eyes were always focused just above it, either on Adi or Mouse! >> Drumonmepls @/user8 Couldn’t have been Adi!! She was to the left of Ross on and off screen!

***

It was days after the event that things seemed to finally settle again. For Matty, at least. Me? I was still getting the odd DM and tweet here and there, but I couldn’t complain, not with how it had been at the very start. Hordes upon hordes of people had come to make their opinions known on the stance of Matty and I’s ‘sudden’ friendship; fans had taken to both Twitter and Instagram, they’d called into the show, and a few had even turned up outside of the studio.

Matty had been helpful throughout it all though, mainly just finding ways to take my mind off of it and sending security down to the building just to ‘be on the safe side’. It’d been a nice gesture, sweet even. But had also meant that his management team had cracked down on him and the band, cooping the lot of them up in a recording studio and pressing them to finish up the album they were currently working on.

That in itself hadn’t affected me much, the whole Matty being distracted by work thing, because it had happened around about the same time that prep work for the Christmas period had kicked in. Which was basically a time where Adi and I focused on pre recording a few shows so that we could sail smoothly into the new year.

This year it had been hectic, to say the very least, but Finn had been a Godsend. Offering to pick up Teddy from nursery on the days when we were filming late and even keeping him occupied on the one weekend that we’d lost the previous day's audio- which had been a fucking nightmare.

Today though, was finally a day where I got some time to myself. Well, myself and Teddy, seeing as I’d completely and utterly missed him even with only having been gone a few extra hours in the day than usual. Still, the kid was my little ball of light and without him I’d be utterly lost.

“Alright there, Teds, what’re you drawing?”

It was a Sunday, the 17th to be precise, and so we only had a week and a bit left in the lead up to Christmas. I’d spent the morning wrapping most of Teddy’s presents before he’d woken and demanded sustenance- which, fair enough. But he was always a little moody whenever he first woke up. Bit like me, I suppose. And so, whilst I’d started cooking him his breakfast, I’d settled him down at the table with some paper and pens to keep him distracted, an old album by The Cranberries playing.

“Plane.” The toddler retorted easily enough, tongue poking out one side of his mouth in utmost concentration.

Grinning at the small action, I settled a cup of juice before him and then stroked a hand through his unruly hair. “Is that for mémé then?”

Teddy hummed, nodding his head at the odd angle it was resting at. I chuckled, always enamoured by his every little thing.

“That’s brilliant, bubs! I’m sure she’ll love it.” I assured him softly, trailing my fingers through his hair one last time before withdrawing to finish up with cooking.

“How many days?” Teddy asked once I’d plated everything up and taken my seat beside him at the table, immediately I knew what he was on about- seeing as he’d only asked the same question a dozen times a day since the last time we’d phoned my mum.

I pretended to think about it long and hard. “Um… about this many days.” I said, holding up six fingers.

Teddy’s brow instantly furrowed as he set about leaning as close as he could get over the tabletop to point towards each of my fingers. “One, two, three…”

“Six!”

I beamed once he’d finally got it, clapping along with him. “So good, you clever boy! Six- six days til mémé gets here!”

Teddy repeated the words in a breathy murmur, grinning gummily back at me as he wiggled in his chair. Then it was just “six” over and over again for a short while.

I tittered faintly to myself, shaking my head before we went about the rest of our breakfast in much the same manner.

It was almost ten to eleven when the doorbell went and I frowned at the thought of who it could possibly be.

“Mum, door.” Teddy informed me, still so invested in his colouring. I hummed softly in turn, wiping my hands before getting up to go answer it.

“Remember to put the lids back on.” I reminded him about the pens, tucking his hair behind his ear as I rounded his seat, “I’ll just be a sec, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

I smiled softly at his monosyllabic reply, listening to him mumble to himself as I padded my way into the hallway. From here I could just make out the darkened shadow standing on the other side of the door’s paned glass and flicked through a mental list of who it could possibly be, wondering if I'd forgotten anything that was supposed to be happening today. But I reckoned it could just as easily have been Finn dropping by for an impromptu visit, or Adi even.

Flicking the latch and pressing down on the handle, I opened it up only to blink at the figure that stood before me. They gifted me an impish grin as they pushed away from the door’s stoop and onto steady feet.

“Figured I’d just pop by, say hello.” Matty mentioned by way of hello, fiddling with an unlit cigarette he held between his fingers whilst I continued to stare back in surprise, “Studio’s been booked for the day, so I managed an easy escape.” He added when I made no move to reply, “Thought we could grab a coffee or something- if you ain't busy, that is.”

He tacked that last bit on in a rush, as though he was beginning to understand why I was so silent. He’d really, really caught me off guard here.

“Er, I mean it’s a bit out of the blue and that. Should've really texted, I know. But I figured I'd try my luck.” He blundered again, shifting awkwardly on my front step now, looking enough out of place for it to finally blink me out of my stupor.

“I-” I went to say but was ultimately interrupted by another voice from further inside the flat, one that was approaching on toddling feet all too fast for me to react to its sudden presence.

Matty’s eyes bulged a tad at the little face that poked its way out from behind my knees, and mine followed when it finally hit me what was actually happening. 

“God, sorry! You just- it’s- I just wasn’t expecting you.” I fumbled, arms reaching down on impulse to pick up the toddler by my feet. I forced out a heavy breath before plastering on a big smile for Teddy, who only seemed to have eyes for the curly haired man staring back at him. “Um, you wanting to come in then? I can do tea, I think. Coffee, even.”

I didn’t really give Matty much of a choice in the matter though, in truth, because I was sailing away to escape the sudden scenario that had started on my doorstep, simply so that I could wrap my head around it all. It was just as I made it back into the kitchen that I heard the door rattle close behind us though and then, as I'd perched Teddy back in his seat, I glanced up to find that Matty had in fact accepted the offer of a warm brew.

It was strange to watch it all fall into place for him, his eyes straying over toys that littered the livingroom floor, the tiny bike which sat in the corner, the star-chart that hung on the cupboard above the fridge, all of Teddy’s artwork and clothes that had been thrown about haphazardly over the last day or two.

I swallowed around my anxiety then, not really sure how I felt now that I knew that Matty finally knew. Because see, I had never really been sure. Teddy wasn’t much of a well kept secret amongst my longtime listeners but I didn’t go flaunting pictures around or mentioning him at every turn. For safety reasons and privacy’s sake. So I hadn't been too certain on whether Matty knew of him or not, having noticed that he’d failed to ever mention him in our texts or calls.

“Um, sorry for the mess. Work’s been a nightmare, and this is my first proper day off in weeks, you know? So." I shrugged a little helplessly, looking out at all of the chaos, then decided to pull on my big girl trousers and trek through this mess like I did everything else in life. “Tea, then? Or coffee?”

The small cough that escaped Matty’s throat echoed around the room once he’d found purchase in the kitchen’s entryway and his voice was tinged with a slight rasp when he finally spoke, “Yeah, uh yeah, please. Coffee.”

I smiled mostly to myself as I turned away to refill the kettle, my mind still whirling but finding relief in Matty’s obvious shock too. Whilst it began to boil though I had nothing much to occupy my mind with, so I decided to putter back on over to the table where Teds had started back up with his drawing and attempted to relax my shoulders. 

“Go on, sit down,” I said to Matty, pointing to a chair as I tried to steer us back into easier waters, “Feel lucky you just missed breakfast, this one tends to get it everywhere.” I chuckled lightly in hopes to fill the quiet I was met with.

Teddy glanced up at me then with a prominent pout, obviously not too pleased about my comment.  “No.” He argued and I heard Matty snort as he finally took a seat opposite, leaving Teddy to act as the buffer between us both.

“Uh, yes.” I fired back at the toddler, but little good it did me when Teddy only seemed to maintain his avid disagreement. 

“Uhuh. I eat it all today.” He reminded me, lips pushed out as his brows climbed higher up his forehead, leaning against the table’s edge again on his elbows. “See?” He added on, pointing a finger over towards where a sink full of soapy dishes now laid.

I smiled, unable to do anything but, though it was Matty who actually replied to him, which both surprised me and put me on immediate edge. “I mean, the little guys got a point. If you ate it all then there can’t be any mess, right?” He directed that last bit towards the little rugrat attempting to evade all guilt and I paused in wait to see how Teddy would respond.

Teddy appeared wary for a moment, blinking over at Matty in a startle, probably having not expected to be roped into a conversation, before his lips settled into something more like a grin. “Right!” He mimicked with a short nod of his head, his ‘r’ sounding more like a ‘w’.

Matty all but beamed at the sudden attention he’d drawn and continued to do so once Teddy started prattling away to him at a hundred miles an hour. I just left them to it, listening in as I padded back over to finish making the drinks. 

It was only after Matty had just about knocked back most of his coffee that Teddy grew tired of talking and asked if we could do something fun, eyes drifting over towards where we often kept his wellies. I knew just what fun he was looking to find.

I conceded easily enough, seeing as it was both his day as well as mine, and smiled with a gesture of my chin, “Go on then, but brush your teeth and find some proper clothes, then we can head on over. Alright?”

Teddy’s head shook up and down in rapid succession, already bolting up out of his seat to make a run for his bedroom. Matty wore an inquisitive look once it was just him and I, both of us sat on opposite sides of the table.

“The park.” I informed the singer, fiddling with the handle of my now empty mug whilst my eyes kept sliding back and forth from the counter to Matty himself.

The man simply hummed and leaned back in his seat, I was forced to watch on as he cast his eyes about the rest of my kitchen, taking his fill now that he had a moment to finally do so. I swallowed and struggled with the unforeseen worries of what he might see, what he might think of it all.

I wasn't well off, by any means. But I had a decent income, enough to provide for Teddy and I, as well as live comfortably. Though if the radio show suddenly dipped and we lost most of our viewing, then there’d be a whole different story to be told.

Even so, it was a much different life to the one Matty lived. That much I knew. So it wasn't too strange of me to wonder whether or not it met any of his standards. And how it alone made me feel.

“How old then?”

The question startled me somewhat, enough that I blinked and looked up at him without thought. My brows furrowed a tad and so he continued, “Teddy- was that it?” And at my nod of confirmation, he smiled at me for another answer, “How old is he?”

Caught off guard still, I gaped for a second and then forced myself to reply, “Um, four, he’ll be five soon enough.”

“Wow.” Was what Matty replied with in a soft murmur, his head moving in an ever so slight nod, “A good age though.” At my questioning look, he chuckled, “Or so I’ve been told.”

I hummed, mostly amused, then fiddled with one of the many pens Teddy had left behind at the table.

“They’ve all been good so far- the ages.” I said to him, rather stupidly, and grimaced around a low laugh at myself, “Just, I mean he’s a good kid, is all.”

Matty was smiling at me when I glanced back up, his eyes squinting with the strength of it. He knocked his fist on the table lightly, “Seems it. Just wish you’dve mentioned him sooner.”

I frowned at that, lips pursing as my nose wrinkled. I didn’t much like the way he’d phrased that last bit, because it’s not that I wasn’t proud of Teddy, I was always showing him off, constantly even. But I also didn’t feel as though everyone had the right to see to that. “Yeah, well he’s not a secret I’ve kept hidden. It’s just safer mostly.”

It was Matty’s turn to frown then, seemingly offended by the offhand remark. “What and that includes me, does it? You think that I’d be a danger to him?”

I stared back at him, brow dipped a tad, eyes squinted. Because I hadn’t meant to hurt him, far from, though could he really blame me for being cautious, for having wanted to keep Teddy away for as long as I had? 

“No,” I answered him, and it was an honest one, “But only now, after having known you as long as I have. I mean, you can’t really be surprised by the fact that I didn’t mention him in the beginning, Matty. I hardly knew you! I’d only ever had the picture that’d been painted of you in my head, I didn’t want that around him.”

He scoffed quietly at that and I heard the way his boot kicked out under the table as he shuffled further back in his chair to run a hand through his hair. “Yeah and what about now then?”

He had me there, I supposed. I sighed and raised a hand to rub at my tired eyes, this wasn't a conversation I had planned for yet, let alone on a morning like this.

“It’s hard, okay? It’s hard to know when to introduce him to new people, he’s only ever really known those closest to me, and after that it’s just been his nursery teacher and the handful of kids in his class.” I explained, watching Matty and hoping he heard the truth in my words, “And you’re this fucking celebrity people love, you’ve got places to be, fans to meet! I never once thought that you’d stick around, not for as long as you have at least. Or that you’d eventually pull me into your life.”

He looked up then, expression so carefully made. “And that’s a bad thing?”

I folded in on myself a little at his question. Unsure.

Matty rolled his lips together and dipped his chin in a slow nod, “Right.”

“Matty, it’s not like that.” I tried.

He was quick with his reply though, all but leaning into the table’s edge now, “Then what’s it like, Mouse?”

He hardly ever called me Mouse, from the day we’d met it had always been Squeaks.

I dragged a hand over my face and then into my hair, perhaps in hopes to bide my time, but mainly because I felt cornered. How was I supposed to tell Matty how much I valued him? His chaotic presence in my life, his texts and calls, his friendship. It was something I hadn’t known I’d needed, but he’d come along and surprised me. He had stuck around, even when I thought he wouldn’t, and he wasn’t asking for anything more than just my company. He didn’t have an ulterior motive, some trick up his sleeve. Or at least that’s what I believed.

“Does this change things, knowing I have a son?” I heard myself ask him, it was a genuine curiosity but I also had to know. I didn’t want to be strung along or let Matty into Teddy’s life like I had Finn and Adi, only for him to then up and leave when he finally grew bored of the normality of it all.

Matty simply stared back at me, those brown eyes of his narrowed as they flittered back and forth between my own, his lips parted slightly as he thought the question over.

“Do you want it to?”

And that hadn’t been the answer I was expecting.

Instantly I shook my head, dropping the pen so that my hands could fall limply into my lap. “Of course not, I like having you around, Matty. Me keeping Teddy from you has nothing to do with that.”

He continued to watch me.

Then finally he conceded with a prompt nod and I felt myself breathe in. “So, the park. Is there a spare invitation going?”

I let the air go in a stilted chuckle, smiling at the common ground he’d gifted us but also at the image of Matty messing about in a playground of all places. “Yes, yeah, ‘course.” I assured him, “Just, be prepared for any puddles, alright? He will soak you if you're within five feet of the splashzone.”

Matty finally laughed too, this soft thing I hadn’t really ever heard from him before, not in this way at least, and then grinned, whirling around in his seat when a stomping toddler came darting back into the room.

“Wellies ta!”

My eyes fell closed as I released another heavy sigh, “Please! Teds. Remember? Please, not ta.”

Teddy merely blinked back up at me and so I decided it would have to be a battle picked for yet another day. 

“Fine, go get them then.”

Matty snorted unhelpfully, which brought him to Teddy’s attention once more. “Need help with ‘em, little man?” He asked, raising a brow at me in hopes that it’d be okay.

I swallowed but ultimately nodded, I couldn’t not when Teddy’s curls started bouncing wildly with the nodding of his head at the question.

And so, I watched them go, Matty taking Teddy’s extended hand, praying that I hadn’t made a massive mistake here. Hoping that somehow Matty would prove me wrong and stay, for a little while.

–

The days after Matty’s impromptu visit came with little to no fuss, it was only when the man wasn’t in the studio that was on the phone to me- and by extension, Teddy as well, who’d taken quite the shine to him. Who could’ve known, hey?

Still, it was a massive change of pace. For me at least, I hadn’t managed to get a read on how Matty felt about it all, but I had yet to worry over it. Mostly because of the Christmas period and how stressed I’d been.

“Finn, I swear he’s driving me out of my mind!” I complained down the phone to my best mate, the thing was currently perched between my shoulder and ear whilst I attempted to throw my hair up into a half-arsed bun, if only to keep it out of my face. “The mess! I mean, it’s like a tornado’s gone and ripped its way through my flat!”

“He’s four, babe.” Came Finn’s unhelpful response. I huffed.

“Exactly! Four, how can someone so small create such a massive mess?” I stressed, trying to clear away as much of the clutter my living room was presently made up of as quickly as I could. “Mam’s gonna be here in,” I glanced hurriedly over at the clock on the far wall and felt my anxiety spike, “Just over an hour! I can’t let her walk into a bombsite!”

Finn laughed at that and so I scowled in retort, even if he couldn’t see me through the phone.

“Finn!” I admonished.

“Alright, sorry! It’s just, she’s your mum, babe. She won’t care what the flat looks like.” He tried to soothe me as he moved about on the other side, doing whatever it was that he was doing. “Why’s he made such a mess anyway?”

I gritted my teeth as I stepped on yet another rogue piece of Lego and just dropped down to start rounding everything and anything I could possibly see into a great big tub. 

“He’s excited, wanted to look nice for when mam shows up but also wanted to showcase to her all of his drawings and sculptures.” I told him, grimacing at the penstained action figure I picked up before tossing it amongst the heap too. “I’ve been in the kitchen mostly, cooking for when she arrives, so I didn’t really bear witness to the fact that he’d taken my permission and flipping run with it! You should see my front room, Finn.” I shook my head for the umpteenth time since I’d walked in and blinked at the chaos I’d been met with, “It’s a proper tip.”

I was given a resounding chuckle once more and simply decided to slump there on the floor, glad to note that most of everything had now been packed into the box. Out of sight, out of mind and all that.

“Finn, I don’t even want to go and see what his bedroom looks like as of right now. I can just picture how his wardrobe’s been overturned and all of his clothes have been tossed about the room.” 

I forced myself up onto my feet then, halfheartedly listening to Finn’s reply. I still needed to sort myself out before anything else and that thought alone stressed me out further.

And of course! Of course it would be in that exact moment that the doorbell went.

“Fuck.” I mumbled to myself, but found my feet already taking me towards the door. I paused only briefly by the mirror to catch sight of the mess my hair was in and tugged it free in hopes it’d help somewhat, “Listen babe, sorry for all my whinging but I’d best go. Door’s just gone and I’m guessing it’ll be that parcel I’ve been waiting on.”

“Cutting it pretty late there.” Finn said and I couldn’t agree more. It was the 23rd, Christmas was now only days away and still I’d yet to receive it- even after having ordered it well over three weeks ago!

“Fucking hell, tell me about it,” I groaned, opening the door up to be met with the sight of a big wrapped box blocking my vision. My forehead wrinkled in utter confusion, “Um, Finn? I really am going to have to call you back.”

“Why, what’s happened? Don’t leave me hanging! Who is it!”

The parcel dropped down an inch then to reveal a familiar grin and shining eyes. 

“Surprise?”

I hurriedly hung up the phone and shoved it into my back pocket, the feeling of bewilderment unable to override the instant worries that washed over me about what a state I must've looked. But I bullied those thoughts back down, ignoring the massive part of me that was currently screaming at the entire situation, for whatever reason I couldn’t even begin to really understand, cause it was just Matty, right? And instead propped myself up against the doorframe.

“What’s this then?” I asked, unable to help my smile when he was looking back at me seemingly so pleased with himself.

“Christmas, in’t it?” He replied all too easily, shaking the rather large present he held in his grasp to further the point.

“I can see that.” I chuckled, shaking my head a little at the picture he made, all bundled up on my front doorstep practically dwarfed by the box he’d brought along. “I just thought you were headed home today.”

He shrugged, an action that was made funnier by the large parcel, but continued smiling, “Meant to, just couldn’t leave without seeing you lot first.”

I blinked, startled by his words. But grinned when he merely widened both his eyes in exaggeration.

“It is fucking freezin’ out here, you know! Could invite a mate in.” Matty reminded me, so I hummed, mulling it over. But he wasn’t one to give up too easily and bribery appeared to be his best tactic here, “I’ve got presents. So open up or they’re going back.”

I narrowed my eyes in turn, “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but darling I would.”

I found myself grinning at him again, something I tended to do whenever he was around it seemed. There was just something about him, I supposed. 

He went to take a step back then and I relented all too easily. “Alright.” I laughed, opening the door up wider to allow him in. Matty all but jumped over the threshold, bringing the cold in with him, and whilst he set about shaking off his coat I went to close the door behind him, only to be stopped by a bright red coat.

“Oh, thanks.” I said in surprise to the postie that managed to time his arrival so perfectly. “Thank you,” I repeated for good measure, shooting my head up from the packaged parcel he’d handed me, “Happy Holidays!” He grinned in return, already taking off back down the steps and parroting the same sentiment to me.

I finally managed to shut the door after that and was met with a ruddy-faced Matty, who was wrapped in a big jumper I was immediately jealous of.

“Last minute present?” He wondered with a smirk and I waved him off.

“Ordered it weeks ago, got here just in time.”

Matty hummed and turned back to glance down at the big box that now rested against my hallway radiator, level with my hip it seemed. “Where is the monster?” He asked me, using the name both he and Teddy had taken a liking to.

My brow furrowed slightly. “You really didn’t have to, Matty.” I said to him quietly, looking down at the present he’d gotten for my son. 

He was having none of it though, rolled his eyes in fact and hunched over to pick the box up again. “Shut up.”

I snorted and couldn’t help but bite back, “You shut up.”

“Real mature, sweetheart. Ain’t you parents meant to be all boring and nice?” Matty quipped as he wandered his way into my living room, I breathed in a sigh of relief when I followed behind and found that my efforts in cleaning hadn’t been in vain.

“Ha ha. Should’ve taken up comedy.” I retorted to him, fixing a few pillows that sat askew on the settee, something to which Matty also rolled his eyes at.

“Nah, band makes more money.” He answered easily, like he’d thought about it before, as he glanced about for the best place to put the box.

“By the tree if you want, or you can leave it next to the chair so he’ll see it when he barrels in.”

Matty laughed and went with the latter. “You been alright then?” He asked me, taking the time to glance at all the holiday cards that rested on the mantelpiece nearby.

“Yeah,” I sighed with a small smile, “Hectic but that’s expected, isn’t it?”

He shot me a warm grin, nodding. “Christmas, babe.” Was all he replied with, which was fair enough, then he went to reach out to pick up a picture frame of me and a very very tiny Teddy. “When was this?”

I stepped closer and smiled down at the photo, “I was still in hospital with him then, my midwife took it.”

Matty hummed, looking down at it with a soft smile. It was then that I heard a thump sound somewhere down the hall, so I released a weighted breath and forced myself to step away, “I’ve got to go check on Teddy, he wanted to dress himself this morning and he’s been way too quiet.”

With another laugh, Matty let me go, nosing through more of the photos and cards which sat along the shelf. Something I could understand, he’d only been here just twice before, but even still, he didn’t care for how blatant he was with his nosing. 

I took the parcel with me as I went, slipping into my bedroom to unwrap and grin down at it. It was Matty’s, which is why its arrival had been so perfect. I'd begun to think that I would have to give it to him the next time I saw him. But now was as good a time as ever.

In a rush, I pulled out a gift bag and some coloured tissue paper, having no time to actually wrap it, and plopped it in. Making my way into the next room to see where Teddy had gotten to.

When I pushed his door open further than it was, I was only slightly surprised by the state of it. The rugrat in question, though, was stood by his wardrobe door, pulling an array of funny faces in its mirror.

“Oi mister, what you been up to?”

Teddy startled slightly at my voice but was giggling when he spun around to spot me. “Got dressed myself.” He stated, pointing proudly at the t-shirt he’d managed to pull on.

“Hm, so you have!” Taking in the jeans and tee combo he’d picked, I then grinned over at him, “Looking good, boyo. Could be a little stylist when you’re older, you know!”

Teddy gave me one of his impish grins and then darted over towards me. “No!” He dragged out in reply, hands clutching at my legs now he was near, his sweet mischievous face staring up at me, “Gone be like you.”

I had to press my lips together then to keep the strength of my smile at bay, his words making my heart swell. “You little charmer.” I chuckled, running a hand through his unruly locks, “Come on though, you’ve got a visitor.”

His eyes widened as he jumped back to rock onto the balls of his feet. “Mémé?” He asked excitedly and I almost felt bad about it not being her, but I knew how much Teddy had also grown to like Matty in the recent days so I wasn't too fussed.

I shook my head, “Not yet, soon though. But somebody else came to see you.”

Teddy’s eyebrows rose as he thought about who it could be and so, knowing that we could possibly be here all day, I started to steer him out into the hallway.

“Finny?” He asked, then, “Santa?”

I snorted, then shook my head to both. “Nope and no. Why don’t we just go see, hey?”

And with that I pushed the door to the living room open wider and watched on as Teddy gasped at the sight of the curly haired frontman standing by our settee.

“Matty!” He all but squealed, practically catapulting himself across the room to make a dive for the man.

Matty laughed, though also seemed startled by the reaction he’d garnered. He swept Teddy up though, all the same, and jostled him around before settling the toddler on his hip, eyes bright with something when they glanced over at me. I smiled, a heavy feeling settling itself in my chest.

“Alright, mate? What you been up to?” Matty asked Teddy, falling back onto the cushions behind them and stationing the toddler next to him.

Teddy replied in earnest, excited to tell Matty all the tales he had stored away since the last time they’d spoken, which had been a few nights previous over a FaceTime call. 

I shook my head in amusement and trailed over towards the kitchen, silenting motioning to Matty to see if he wanted a drink. The answer, as always, was yes and so I set about brewing him his usual, along with my own, taking the time to clean myself up a bit too.

By the time I walked back in, Teddy had just about finished telling Matty all the details of his last day at nursery (they’d had a party), which I’m sure the man had already heard about, but who acted as though it was the most brilliant story he’d ever been told. 

“One coffee.” I said in greeting, placing the two mugs onto coasters before taking a perch on the armchair by them.

“Ta.” Matty replied, grinning madly when Teddy cackled gleefully and repeated the word over and over. I rolled my eyes at the pair of them and took a calming sip of tea, unaware of how much I’d been in dire need of it. Whoever claimed Sunday’s were a day of rest, were liars.

“He spotted it yet then?” I asked aloud, already knowing the answer seeing as how I didn’t currently have a bouncing Teddy on my hands.

The toddler’s face wrinkled in confusion and he shot his head over to see me, I grinned from behind my mug. “Huh?” He sounded.

Matty hid his next snort well but then hummed too, pushing forward in his seat to grab at his coffee. “Oh his present, you mean?”

That had Teddy’s head spinning. “Where!”

“Manners, bubs.” I reminded, and Teddy nodded so quickly I was honestly a little worried about the whiplash he might face before his eyes were back on Matty.

“Please, present?” Teddy asked, pouting up at the curly haired man with a sudden urgency, his words butchered by his missing bottom teeth.

Matty chuckled, glad for the fact that he’d put his coffee back down in the toddler's haste, and then gestured his head over to the right. “You mean that one?”

Teddy’s eyes, if even possible, widened further, eyebrows reaching the tips of his curls and mouth dropping open as he finally spotted it.

“For me?” He gasped in awe, shuffling down Matty’s leg to approach it, all of his movements now slow as if his shock was stopping him from reacting typically. 

I leaned forward to watch on and Matty did the same, obviously nervous for Teddy’s reaction.

“For you, mate. Was walking by this shop the other day and spotted it, thought of you.” Matty told him seriously, smiling too whilst he wrung his hands together, foot tapping anxiously away, though unaware of it.

Teddy looked back at him, chewing on his bottom lip carefully, taking two more steps before he was touching the wrapping. He oohed at it softly to himself but I caught the way Matty’s face brightened at the sound.

“‘pen now?” Teds asked, his eyes drifting away from the gift, towards me and Matty both.

Matty looked over at me then too, the same question echoed on his face. I nodded with a small smirk, “Go on.”

Teddy’s eyes lit up and he spun back around to marvel at it once more, “W’ats it?”

The snort that escaped me at his ask went unnoticed by the pair as Matty moved to join the toddler on the floor. “Gotta open it up and find out, I ‘spose.”

Teddy’s grin brightened and then he fell to his bum so that he could pull the present closer. “Help?”

Matty blinked at the request and I was witness to the way his throat bobbed before he nodded, “Yeah, sure mate. Here, pull this, alright?”

Teddy did as instructed, tugging on a small opening in the wrapping. 

I noted as he began to tear away at it, how oddly wrapped it really was, meaning that Matty had probably taken the time to wrap it himself. My chest tightened again at the thought.

“Box.” Teddy announced once all the wrapping paper had been discarded on the rug behind him, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from outright laughing at the befuddled expression he gave Matty.

The man had no qualms though, simply chuckled at the question and leaned in closer to force one side of the cardboard box up a little, “Gotta open up that too, monster.”

Teddy’s brows drew together in concentration as he followed Matty’s lead, forcing the lid open more before a loud gasp escaped him. Matty went back to wringing his hands, fiddling with the rings on his fingers whilst I moved over to the settee to get a look too.

My expression faltered at the sight of the beautiful gift Matty had given Teddy. Inside the box rested a guitar in an incredible shade of deep blue, it was small enough for Teddy to hold whilst also being big enough for him to grow with. Even with my obsessive love for music, not once had I ever really thought about buying Teddy such a thing, not one of this calibre at least. It must've cost a fortune.

“Matty.” I whispered, but the man didn’t even spare a look my way, eyes trained on my toddler, trying to garner his reaction.

“You know what it is, mate?” He asked after a moment and Teddy’s little head dipped in a slow nod. Because I knew he knew, he danced around constantly pretending to have one in his hands whenever we had the tele or radio on. Where there was music blaring, there would also be a Teddy playing air guitar.

“‘tar.” Teddy stated in a soft voice, both Matty and I smiled at the way he said it, but the former nodded, pulling the instrument out of the box so that Teddy could get a closer look.

“Cool right?”

Teddy nodded silently again, reaching out a hand to carefully touch the wooden neck, blinking and reeling back when a string strummed. Before he then giggled and reached out once more.

Matty seemed to slump in relief, evidently glad that Teddy liked it. But I’d go as far to even say he adored it, never had he ever been so gentle with anything.

“Have you got something to say to Matty, Teds?” I prompted, ignoring the way my throat caught at the emotion I felt. I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around it.

Teddy pulled his eyes away from the guitar to gaze up at Matty as though he was something other. I merely blinked at the reaction and before I knew it Teddy had thrown himself into Matty’s arms, startling the man a tad. Matty welcomed him after a second though, glancing over the toddler’s head to share a look with me.

“T’ank you.” I heard Teddy muffle into the collar of Matty’s jumper then, actually saying the words this time. It seemed Matty knew what that meant too, because he tightened his hold on Teddy’s waist a little.

“You’re welcome, mate.”

The rest of Matty’s visit was used to teach Teddy a bit about the basics of a guitar, managing to play an E minor and get started on an A chord. Teddy listened to Matty with rapt attention, barely sparing anything else a second glance, which was startling for a toddler, let alone Teddy who was constantly go, go, go.

Watching them was all too lovely as well. For someone with such a cool front, Matty seemed to melt around Teddy, succumbing to that of the boy’s charm and easy going nature. It was sweet to see, surprising but endlessly sweet. Had me losing track of time, in truth. Which is why I jumped and cursed the way I did when the door finally knocked. 

“Mémé!”

[charcubed]

I NEEEED people—especially those with unfathomably large platforms???—to start doing just a tiny bit of internal evaluation before they log onto a blue website and say “I don’t want these queer characters to fuck in canon” or “I’d be fine if these characters never kissed again” or whatever.

This is a post about Good Omens and the prospect of Aziraphale and Crowley potentially having sex in season 3. It's a response to a tweet that I'm crossposting, but let it be known the above statement and this topic applies broadly across multiple fandoms too.

But anyway, in regards to Good Omens specifically:

I am seeing this take that essentially boils down to "Canon has now made it clear that these characters want to have sex with each other through subtext (i.e. Aziraphale and the ox), but I don’t want that to reach narrative completion because the idea of them having sex makes me uncomfortable or isn’t my personal preference” and it is, to put it mildly and delicately, A Very Bad Take.

This is rhetorical (and I do not expect or particularly want an answer), but: explain to me how and why queer characters who are unavoidably visibly queer (aka 2 "man-shaped beings") fucking on screen wouldn’t be a net positive, especially when you can indicate how canon has set it up.

Presumably, some people say things like this because ~they want to see them as visibly ace.~ Okay. But by some of these people’s own admission, there IS more evidence in canon now to indicate these characters crave sex with each other (vs arguing otherwise)... yet people would rather that be ignored/erased all for the sake of them feeling comfortable or feeling better about what canon shows or doesn’t show explicitly??

I’m sorry, but—speaking as an ace person, to be clear—your personal preferences for the story shouldn’t / don’t affect anything here. There’s too much in this.

Yeah, I understand on a personal level not having “representation.” I almost never see myself or my unique experiences and identity reflected in stories. And yet, I also understand that that doesn’t change any story or the world in which we live. Things like this are not said in a vacuum.

Any queer characters having sex on screen IS a net positive. It is rare and impactful, and openly calling for or hoping for otherwise when canon points to its potential is a detrimental alliance with purity culture, whether intentionally or accidentally. Because we live in a Goddamn society!

Who knows (other than Neil Gaiman) whether Aziraphale and Crowley ARE going to fuck on international TV. None of us do! But the subtext right now blatantly says they’re starving for it. And you don’t have to like the prospect of that, but honestly? We SHOULD get to see it play out. There’s no truly legitimate reason we shouldn’t ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Whether you "prefer" it or not.

And my ultimate hot take is… if someone balks at the idea of that or doesn’t understand the importance of it, despite even seeing the subtext… then they should perhaps unpack that? Just a thought.

Truly the way fandoms are managing to hit either “subtext doesn’t count :/ ” or “let’s keep it to subtext so it’s ‘open to interpretation’ :) ” nowadays depending on what corner one visits is MADDENING. Whiplash-inducing. Surreal. And so much nonsense you can’t pick where to start.

So! I do genuinely hope I'm not kicking off discourse but I felt this Needed To Be Said (and on more than one site). Because posts like “even if they never kiss again, we’ve won <3 “ make me want to be like…

These characters are YEARNING. Do not doom them and us to it. For once, we can reach for the stars and maybe–against all odds–pull them down. Embrace it!

---

[Update: after more discourse has occurred, I have somewhat elaborated on this further, from the POV of the significance of the queer themes in Good Omens and more specifically how they center illicit pleasure/desire]

[knotwerk]

holy shit i fucking love editing. (remind me i said that in two weeks.) 

i’m working on the proper hydration series finale aka PH6. i finished writing the first draft on 4/6/24, clocking in at 85k words. and then i sat on it for a few days before rereading it, did an extremely cursory once-over edit, and sent it off to my first reader & og beta @demolitionwoman-blog (CHEERS!!!). she started working on the beta, and by the time she hit chapter 3, she made the observation that the next step in the editing process for this might not be a typical beta read, but a structure/development read, and maybe a reverse outline would be a good next step. 

and i was like, i have never heard of a reverse outline. like, i have never heard of most things, really; i just started writing fiction in fucking august 2022 and am having a FUCKING BALL learning by doing. so i googled reverse outline, read the top three hits lol, and was like OH FUCK YES. 

because i do not Outline-outline when i write. all respect to those who do!!!!!, but i just Can Not. i have tried, and i get both daunted and bored, and that combo is like fucking kryptonite to my brain. for a longer piece (or a piece that doesn’t just burst out of my fingertips in response to a gifset or bts drop or tweet or gc comment 😅), i do make a sort of vibes outline. like, i open a fresh doc and splort down all the themey ideas i’m able to put words to at that point, and i make notes on whatever beats have already formed in my head, but it’s loose and sketchy at best. and then i write and see what happens as the story unfolds, and i go back to that notes doc to sort of talk to myself about it, to update the vibe outline as i get further in my draft, etc. 

but PH6 is the longest & most complex thing i’ve written yet, so by the time i got to the end of the first draft—by the time i’d put the whole story into words—i was like, oh my god, what is this. like, has this done the thing i wanted to do, per my vibe outline, and also, what did it actually do, and is it legible (whatever that means; like far be it from me to tell the reader what they should get out of something, but, generally speaking, is it cohesive.). now that i have told the story, like… what the fuck is the story about please, and does it "work." 

so i “finished” my reverse outline yesterday and omfg it’s helping so much and it’s SO EXCITING!!!! LIKE, THIS IS HELPING ME WRAP MY MIND AROUND THE THING I DID, SO I AM BETTER ABLE TO SEE WHAT I AM TRYING TO DO!!!! AND I CAN WORK WITH THAT!!!!!

it’s like i had a bunch of kittens scrambling around in my brain and while i was writing i was like 'oh i love these kittens so much, and i really hope this story herds these kittens effectively so they slow down just enough that people can really see their cute little faces (including me, i am people)' and then i finished the first draft and was like 'ahhh did the story herd the kittens??? i can't tell, they're still moving too fast in my brain' and then the reverse outline showed up and was like I COME BEARING TUNA AND FIFTEEN CARDBOARD BOXES and now i can see the kittens better. 

and then! i slept on it last night, and this morning my brain was like, “oh, here, why don’t i just efficiently articulate the vibes and arrange them in a tidy visual diagram that reveals how they all flow through the story for you?” WHEE!!

and then i got so excited that i had to put it down and write all this instead of working on it further 

(this, which could probably use its own reverse outline lmao)

like, i’m reading Mary Ruefle’s Madness, Rack, and Honey, which is a book of collected lectures that i cannot stop screaming about and that slaps so hard i keep having to throw it across the room, and just the other day i read, in the chapter “On Secrets,” 

I used to think I wrote because there was something I wanted to say. Then I thought, “I will continue to write because I have not yet said what I wanted to say”; but I know now I continue to write because I have not yet heard what I have been listening to.

and i think the reverse outline is helping me hear it a little better, and that is fucking exciting.

[bebx]

tw: abuse, victim-blaming, the Johnny / Amber situation

I told myself I wasn’t going to talk about this again. Johnny has moved on and has left that chapter of his life behind and is glowing and healing. and I am so happy, so so beyond proud of him.

so I’m sorry for not being able to help it and having to bring this up again, because not only is it frustrating but it’s also very very triggering to see some people still use those inappropriate texts Johnny sent to his friend, Paul Bettany, in private, to try to paint him as this bad guy they so desperately want him to be. where in those texts he said inappropriate things about her, because he was venting to a friend after he’s been mentally and physically abused by her for years. but hey, since Johnny is a man, it’s oh so terrifying that he said mean things about his own abuser, who happens to be a woman. and therefore these texts alone must mean he was the “bad guy” in their relationship, because he said terrible things about her after he’s been mentally and physically abused for years, and it must mean she was this poor victim even if there’s solid evidence of her having mentally and physically abused him, one of which is her admitting, in her own voice, to having started physical fights, abusing him, calling him a baby when he chose to peacefully walk away instead of fighting with her, and daring him to tell the world that he, a man, was a victim too of domestic violence and see how many people believe or side with him, those were caught on tape in her own voice. let’s not forget those CCTV footages, the police / medical records and dozens of other eyewitnesses who confirmed she was the abuser, not Johnny. or the fact that she was the one who was previously arrested for domestic violence against her at-that-time girlfriend. or the fact she lied and was exposed when she said she’d donated money to sick children (literally I don’t care what she does with her money. she has the rights to keep those money, since it’s hers, and to not donate anything, it’s the fact she lied and literally used dying children as a tool to make herself look good — by saying she’d donated it all when it fact she did not donate anything and was later exposed for it — that disgusts me).

but because Johnny is a man, it’s so vile that he would say terrible things about his own female abuser in private text messages, when he was venting to a friend, because she was abusing him.

look at those tweets from our abuse apologist, Caitlin

I must say at least the ratio Caitlin has been receiving nonstop (these are only some of them) quite gives me hope in humanity. but I truly hope they learn and educate themself because, god forbid, if they were to find themself in an abusive relationship with someone (and I truly hope they never have to go through that) and were to say messed up things about their own abuser, I genuinely hope no one invalidates their being a victim because they said messed up things about their abuser behind said abuser’s back.

again, this will most likely be the last time I talk about this. so if you sent me something in my inbox, whether it’s to agree with me or to tell me to unalive myself (if you’re one of those abuse apologists who cannot except the fact that women can be abusers and men can be victims and that abuse has no gender) I’d have to respectfully ignore, and move on with my life. because I’m not looking forward to having any back and forth conversation regarding this topic again. Johnny has moved on. it’s over. he rightfully won.

last but not least, I’m happy that Johnny got his justice and is healing, living his best life. I am beyond proud of him for how strong he is and how far he’s come. that man is my strength and my hero.

[ysabelmystic]

For the whole Derek Landy thing, I know it’s not uncommon in the fandom, but I find it strange to judge the quality of the books based on your personal feelings about the writer, because those are two very separate things, as shown by your liking the original books before encountering his online presence. Similarly, I think it’s strange to call Phase Two ‘Trash’ when you’ve only heard about it second hand. It has lots of issues, but I think it’s always worth reading things for yourself and coming to your own conclusions. If it’s still trash then fair enough, but it’s better than missing out on something you might enjoy, or going in with a pre-bias towards disliking it because of your feelings about the author and the words of your peers.

1) these two things are intertwined which I will demonstrate. It’s less about “author bad so book bad” and more about “author does not see good elements that existed and could be expanded upon” and “writing is inconsistent due to elements of author’s personal life”. An example of the first is Derek’s tendency to kill characters off and torture characters for what seems like shock value, judging by several tweets about doing those things specifically to hurt/shock readers. I think this harms the quality of the story because it leaves characters and arcs underdeveloped. Another example would be Derek’s failure to commit to a timeline and take notes (see Grimoire incident). An example of the second would be inconsistent character writing due to opinions of people in the author’s personal life. This is something I somewhat suspected for a while but was seemingly confirmed. Another example is his history of changing editors/publishers.

I actually do still love phase 1 for what it is. Derek would have to do a lot worse to take that enjoyment away.

If you like phase 2 that’s fine. Keep in mind that I’m an overly-analytical bitch who gets Way Too Into Media (I have read phase 1 at least 15 times) and likes writing/talking about it. Maybe if I wasn’t this way I’d be less critical, but I am.

2) i read the first two books of phase 2 and did not care for them. I also know much, much more though than whether people liked or disliked them to the point that admittedly at this point it might’ve been less time-consuming to read the books myself. At best, it seems underwhelming, which by comparison to phase 1, means phase 2 is hot garbage. Not the-worst-garbage-in-the-world garbage, but not great. Of course I will read phase 2, and the prequel, and phase 3 when it comes out. I’m not reading them just to trash them. To my knowledge, I will have some positive things to say. I’ll also be reading Demon Road again (kill me). That, I have nothing good to say about….

Edit: I want to be clear, if I did not care about this series, I wouldn’t be here writing this.

[scruffyplayssonic]

Professor Scruffymatt will return

Hey friends, just an update regarding my Twitch channel and how barren and tumbleweed-y it's been since April. 

So as you may already know, I've gone through a lot of lifestyle changes in the last few months. In late April I flew to Canada and married my partner after we decided that a 12 and a half year long distance relationship was more than enough. When I returned to Melbourne in May I immediately came down with some kind of virus. It wasn’t COVID thankfully, but it still took me out of commission for almost two weeks. Not ideal when I was supposed to be finishing up work and training a replacement during that time. Oh well, I had sick leave and I bloody well used it. Once I was at least partially back on my feet I had to go through the process of packing up my house and deciding which of my belongings I was going to ship to Canada and what I was going to get rid of. And after looking at shipping rates, I ended up keeping a lot less than I'd been planning to. RIP, most of my classic gaming and DVD collections. </3

I left Melbourne in early June and spent a month or so with my family in Western Australia before finally making the return trip to Canada in early July, where I am now happily living with my new family. One thing that my partner's wanted me to have since I got here was a space for myself, but unfortunately the spare bedroom was a cluttered mess when I arrived. So we've been going through a long process of getting it into a decent state, and it's now almost ready to become my office. I just need to buy a desk and a chair, and then I'll be ready to get back to streaming again. I'm also still waiting for my belongings to be shipped to me (which should be some time in the next fortnight), especially because they include my Xbox. 

So yeah, hopefully I'll be up and running again soon. I do plan on finishing up my Classic Era Sonic marathon, which I had to put on hiatus back in April. But there's a number of other games I want to stream as well, such as Arkham Origins: Blackgate (gotta finish my run of the Arkham games eventually, right?), a new game I recently discovered called Thank Goodness You're Here, and I might possibly continue some other series I've streamed in the past such as Dead Rising and Ace Attorney. Once I’ve gotten my Sonic comics back, maybe I could try to figure out what I’d like to do with a review show. And maybe eventually I'll even live up to my avatar and do a Professor Oak challenge on stream rather than just tweeting my daily progress. Anything's possible. Oh, and on the topic of my latest Professor Oak challenge: that’s on hiatus for now. I’ve really gotten into the recent release of Pokemon Mystery Dungeon on the Switch’s GBA app, and most of my gaming attention is going to that right now. In all honesty, I probably needed a break between Professor Oak challenges anyway.

One other change I am going to have to make is to my streaming times. Saturday nights were fine for me when I was living alone, but things are different now that I live with people I actually enjoy spending time with. xD Also, if I were to try and get back into the exact same time slot I used to stream in, that would be the middle of the night here in Canada! Tuesday mornings or afternoons will probably be a good streaming time for me, as it’s the only day of the week my partner doesn’t work from home. But on the other hand we do have a mischievous 1 year old doggo to consider, whom I wouldn’t want to leave alone unsupervised if I’m in the house. And while I am excited at the prospect of finding a new audience now that I live in a time zone that’s compatible with North America, I also don’t want to leave my Australian viewers out in the lurch. So I’ll probably be doing some evening streams as well, which my fellow Australians should at least be awake for. It’s far too early for me to lock in anything just yet, and I’ll probably be experimenting with different days and times for a while to find out what fits best for my family and I. Maybe I’ll follow my partner’s usual Sunday streams, to give her an opportunity to send raiders to me? We’ll see.

Anyway, sorry for the long ramble. I didn’t intend to go on quite as long as I did, but as it’s been so long since I disappeared from Twitch I felt you guys deserved an explanation. If all goes according to plan I should be streaming again some time in the next few weeks, so keep an eye on my usual social medias for announcements. You’ll also get notifications when I go live if you follow me on Twitch, of course, and I’ll be continuing to upload the VODs to my YouTube channel after each stream. I’m planning to kick off my return by continuing the classic Sonic marathon (Sonic Labyrinth is up next, god help me!), so if you’d like to catch up on what I’ve played so far, I’ve got a playlist that can help you with that. Thanks for reading, and I look forward to seeing you on Twitch again soon!

Cheers,

Professor Scruffymatt

[polyamorousmisanthrope]

Organization, Self-discipline, Distractability, and a Rant

A friend of mine re-posted this tweet. I am quite certain that because of this friend’s (VERY REAL) struggles there was a feeling of being seen and validated. And that’s a valid point of view. If something comforts you in your struggles, that’s valid, no kidding. And this article might annoy you. Scroll on by. I’m not wanting to dump on what keeps you going. Times are rough enough. Seriously…

My initial reaction before logic kicked in was nearly incandescent rage. Which led to this rabbit hole as I tried to deal with it.

Why did a little meme make me so mad?

So, remember how it took me thirty years to vacuum a closet? I could have as easily said it took me thirty years to pay my bills or cook a meal or several other things.

Oh sure, I’m organized now. I’m talking “color-coded boxes when it is time to move” level of organization, ‘kay? But even though other people don’t see it, I still remember being shamed in fourth grade because of the desk cubby crammed full of books and papers, and being asked, “You’re so smart, how come you can’t–” about So. Many. Things.

I didn’t become organized by ignoring reality

I am not naturally organized. I am not naturally industrious, and I am not naturally all that productive. I’d call myself lazy, but that invites a lecture from anyone who loves me about being too hard on myself.

I did, at some point, need to accept certain realities. Not paying bills can land one in court. Disorganization can be a big problem in one’s professional life. In my own case, I also have a big problem with depression, so I cannot count day to day being on the ball and thinking clearly. (I mean, really, this rant was because of an initial reaction of NOT thinking clearly)

So, shooting for some damn Platonic Form of “Organized and Disciplined” in my case is a recipe for failure. I’m going to bet it is for you, too.

If your plan has no way to account for delays and failure points, it’s a wish, not a plan. There used to be a fashion in self-development on YouTube to have The Perfect Morning Routine. You know, get up, do twenty minutes of yoga, make yourself the perfect nutritionally-balanced breakfast, read some Improving Literature, and bike to work… that kind of thing. To tell on myself, yeah, I’m trying to get in more stretching and yeah, I use a yoga app for that. My general idea is that I’ll get up and do twenty minutes of yoga (stop laughing at me) and then do my day. I did not, in fact, get right up and do that. It’s almost ten in the morning, I’ve been up since six, and I’m here writing this incredibly detailed rant and not getting in that stretching. So I’m failing, right? Wrong.

“Imperfectly Perfect” has a lot going for it My goal for the month is to get in ten minutes of yoga a day as an average measured over a month. I’ll throw in a few minutes today at some point. Probably after I write this. While an organized person looks like they’re doing things in a strict way and in a specific order, that may not be entirely the case. Sure, you have to show up at the dentist at a specific time, or take your meds before you eat or something. But what time you do your writing or wash your dishes has a lot more wiggle room. Let it have that wiggle room and let goals that don’t need to be exact be inexact.

“Good Enough” and “Perfect” are two different things. Good enough is better than Perfect. Bed making… I’ve heard people say that bed-making is too much trouble. When I hear that, I almost always presume another choke point — bed against the wall makes making it a pain in the ass, depression makes it hard to get OUT of bed, never mind making it, things like that. But… If the only time you make your bed is when you have the energy to make it neatly enough you won’t be yelled at on Parris Island, you have absolutely confused “Perfect” and “Good Enough.”

I took that picture thirty seconds before I wrote this. I did no adjustments on the bed. It’s just how I made it this morning. I woke up this morning cranky and wanting to punch Humanity in the mouth. So, not motivated. This meets my personal definition for good enough. It’s made. I’m dressed and doing my day.

Good. Enough.

Defining Good Enough will help you. What is “Good Enough” in your life?Ignoring real issues of executive function will set you up for failure.

Are you distractable? I am. In fact, this article is a prime example of distractability for me. I haven’t written what I plan to do for the day in my Bullet Journal and haven’t done most of my Wednesday morning chores. I got ranty and just had to sit down and write this. That yoga I was going to do? That planning out the day I (usually) do? Obviously not happening right now as I ranty, ranty, rant.

But my life is set up to account for things like this. I accept and plan for the fact that stuff like this happens! I have a means to track what needs to be done that won’t let the genuinely important and urgent things fall through the cracks. Even though I am currently caught up in the glorious dopamine hit of ranting, those things that need to be done are quietly sitting in their places, waiting for my attention.

Thing is, it’s more than just a to-do list. It’s setting up your life to account for how your brain works.

That might mean storing your extra sheets under your mattress so you will immediately re-make the bed when you wash your sheets, or hanging a mask on the back of your door so you don’t forget to put then thing on before you leave your apartment. (Yeah, I know, that looked oddly specific, didn’t it?)Being organized and disciplined is a skill. Mastering skills take time.

Think of anything you know how to do — playing an instrument, cooking a meal, writing fiction, driving, whatever.You might have wanted to master it overnight. But if you actually developed the skill instead of stopping the activity, you probably put in a lot of time and effort. You probably had failures that made you wince at yourself.

Learning the skill of organization is no different.

I know that saying it took me thirty years of solid work to get organized seems like hyperbole. It’s not. It was really that difficult for me.

Which is, I know, why images like the above set me off a little. I know the intention is to make people feel better about a mutual struggle.

But it also makes me feel like in the common cultural mind, my life’s work was mostly a waste of time.

[artificialqueens]

🏳️‍🌈 WeHo Trans Nights: Chapter 1 (Bianca Del Rio / Kylie Sonique Love ; Multi) - Imafuckinglibra

A/N : Happy fucking pride, that’s it. I don’t care if the month’s almost over, this mini-series is my pride gift to you all and ngl myself. This was pure, unapologetic, self-indulgent smut that I wanted to exist and you know what, I am really proud of it. And yes, I pinky promise there will be art that follows for this next queue, k bye.

“…then this dumb bitch had the audacity to say, get this, people were killed at Stonewall.” 

The small room filled with a loud uproar of oohs, aahs and a few laughs, none of which came from Roy. He was far too busy reposting some snide comeback he tweeted at a heckler to his Instagram, his Instagram story, Facebook, and once again on Twitter, just for good measure.

“Did you hear that?” Darienne asked, slapping Roy roughly on the back. 

“Yeah bitch dumb something stonewall, so funny…” Roy drawled absentmindedly, still typing away on his phone.

Never one to shy from a good excuse to celebrate something, his best friend Shane threw an annual party to kick off pride. Always a different stupid theme and always a hotbed for degenerates. 

This being the 8th year in a row, Roy had had enough. All night, he’d fulfilled his best-friend duties and helped keep everything running smoothly, as usual, but nearing the end of the party he was not in the mood for any more mindless small-talk. Even with Darienne.

Darienne, still standing beside him, sighed deeply, “Will you lighten up please?”

“Ugh, why?” he grumbled. “You know I hate pride.”

“Now, Roy…” 

He felt someone’s hands on his shoulders. 

“My love.” It was Shane, cooing in his ear, taking the phone out of his hand just as he hit the last post. “Can we please put the phone away for one night and engage in polite society?”

Roy blinked at him slowly, emphasizing the stupidity in his statement with a loud smack of his lips.

“Look around you,” he gestured with his open palms, “NONE of these people are polite society.”

“Well-“

“Willam sucked off a guy while he watched dog porn, I know Australians have different worldviews but we regular folk see that as…what’s the word?” Shane shifted from one foot to the other, crossing his arms in annoyance as Roy kept pretending to think. “Nasty ass shit!”

“I hate you,” Shane broke out into a laugh, hitting Roy on the arm with his bedazzled rainbow fan, a little roughly at first but then a few more times, playfully, till Roy stopped frowning. 

“Okay, okay.” Roy snatched his fan from him. 

“But thank you for coming to my party, even if we have so many degenerates.”

“Of course, I get my best material at your little shindigs.” 

And that really was the God’s honest truth. As much as Roy loathed Shane’s parties and having to engage with so many people who he tolerated at best, it did make for some top-tier stand-up material. Material the budding comic desperately needed.

“Oh I know,” Shane nodded. “I intend to get royalties any day now.”

“Is that how it is?” He raised an eyebrow. “So this is a business affair?”

“Oh pussyface, at this point I’d settle for any affair.”

“Only if you ask nicely,” Roy shot back with a shit-eating grin, his hand sliding down from Shane’s shoulders to the small of his back.

“Don’t tempt me, I have guests to entertain,” Shane sighed, turning away from Roy and towards the room of people. “Like that one!” 

Shane waved at Adore, running off to go catch up.

Roy gave the room another scan, checking for any out of place cups or spills to clean up, even sort of hoping there would be a stain on the carpet to scrub so he’d have something to cure his boredom.

Then, like a godsend, he saw her walking towards him.

“My my, aren’t you just cuter than a box of kittens on a Sunday afternoon?” Kylie whistled when she saw Roy’s outfit.

“Haven’t seen you all night, I was wondering why this party was so quiet,” Roy teased. 

“Careful, one of these days I might take it personally,” Kylie smiled. She finally turned around, arms open for a welcoming hug. “Well hey there, Sugar!”

“How are you, Sugartits?” He squeezed her tight, getting a good whiff of her deliciously sweet perfume. 

Roy loved getting to hang out with Kylie, rare as it was. There wasn’t a specific reason, she was just that one friend he never really got to work with regularly and thus never spent time with. But it did make reuniting so much sweeter. 

They both looked at each other and gave a good exhale, neither sure what to say except the usual, “you look good” or “I’ve missed you”. 

Instead they quietly made their way to the bar where the poor twink bartender Shane found on Grindr was panicking while pouring drinks, clearly out of his depth. Roy’s sympathetic smile seemed like the only comfort he’d received all night and for a second he almost felt bad for him, till he decided to note it down in his phone for later material instead.

“Well,” Kylie broke the silence first, turning towards where Willam was still telling his story. “He’s doing the Derrick bit again…never gets new material, does he?”

“Nope.” Roy popped the p for emphasis. 

It seemed like every year, Willam would tell this same story, Roy would get drunk on the same cocktails and, if he played his cards right, Shane would ask him to stay over at the end of the night for a wild evening of sinfully good sex. The latter he wasn’t too mad at.

And Kylie. Every year they’d flirt a little over the same shots of tequila, catch up on what was new in their lives, and then part ways yet again. Same old same old, and this year she was right on cue again.

“I’m pretty surprised we’re dressed the same. I mean I look better but we knew,” she teased while they waited for their drinks from the struggling bartender. “I didn’t think anyone else would come as a slutty witch, let alone you.”

“Ouch,” Roy pretended to flinch, pressing his hand to his wounded chest. “Say what the fuck you really think, cunt.”

“Oh please, you can take it.” 

“You like that?” Roy asked, lifting a brow. “You should see how I give it.”

Even without looking Roy could feel her hand moving slowly closer to his on the countertop. He tried to decipher if it was just his mind playing tricks on him or if she was trying to do a little more than flirt this time around. 

Not that he would mind. She was gorgeous; she’d always been gorgeous but tonight, she was a downright smoke show. It was obvious how much work she put into her body just from her Instagram posts but seeing it in person was something else.

Well, that or just the obvious; the costume she wore was so small and tightly fitted it was damn near indecent.

When Shane had given the theme for the year as ‘Gay Christmas,’ the West Hollywood way of saying Halloween, he didn’t expect anyone else to even bother thinking of a witch; it was too mundane.

And yet, here Kylie stood in nothing but a corset, a lace bustle that showed off her black panties, leather opera-length gloves and boots that went all the way to her thighs. An oversized witch hat and teeny, tiny broom as accessories as if they were an afterthought to make the witch part fit.

“So um, can I ask you something?” Her fingers crawled towards him, running them over the back of his hand. 

“Yeah, sure.” He casually took a sip from his cocktail as if the butterflies in his stomach weren’t going berserk. 

“I need you to promise me if anyone brings out their guitar or starts singing again this year…”

“Oh god!” Roy burst out into hysterical cackling. The visions of last year’s fiasco and the horrors of 20 queers trying to sing over each other replayed in his mind.

“We are out of here!” She slapped his shoulder, joining in his laughter. “Member when uh, what’s her name?” She snapped her fingers, “the little one with the baby face and the sad songs?”

“Blair,” Roy shuddered. 

“Blair!” Kylie pulled her face in confusion. “I always expect some big gal with like some unseasoned potato salad in hand when someone says Blair St. Clair, don’t you?”

“If that ain’t the honest truth, bitch.”

They clinked their glasses and each took a sip, smiling cordially at each other before they returned their focus to where Willam was starting a new story about how drunk Derrick had gotten at a comedy special they did together. 

Not quite as old a story as his Stonewall tale, but once you got him going he didn’t relent on any chance to diss good ol’ Derrick Berry, especially when he was in attendance, practically blowing smoke out of his ears with rage. 

“So, how’d Shane talk you into this?” Kylie asked, dragging Roy’s focus back from his phone, yet again replying to snarky comments left on his posts.

“Do you mean the party or the get-up?” He didn’t even bother looking up, too distracted in his mission to get the last word in. 

“You do look fantastic in that shirt though,” she teased, fingering the little piece of loose thread around his shoulder.

Maybe he’d gone for a predictable look, a black mesh crop top that barely came up to his chest, the same leather harness every respectable queer person owned, black denim shorts, some knee length black boots (which Shane had happily provided) and a witch’s hat. 

“I know,” he nodded, finally putting the phone away. “Black’s my color. Have to admit, you don’t look half bad yourself.”

“Oh I know, sugar. You don’t have to tell me.”

“I always forget just how country you are until you talk.” He smiled, a sense of homesickness tugging at his chest. “Sugah.”

“Are you tickled, bitch?” 

“I am very tickled…especially by that outfit,” he whistled, making her spin around while holding her hand over her head. “You really—“

“Fill it out well?” Clearly she’d gotten this note before.

“No.” He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her roughly back against him so she’d be facing the same direction as him. “Look.”

“What?” She stopped, looking down at where he held her bicep.

“Better grab your shit…and quick.” He failed to hide an amused smile as he pointed over to where Trixie and Jinkx were setting up their chairs and a guitar.

“Oh, sweet baby Jesus…” Kylie’s eyes went wide in horror when Trixie began strumming the intro to Jolene by Dolly Parton. She quickly grabbed her drink, trying to chug the rest.

“Forget the goddamn drink, run!” Roy laughed, pushing her towards the front door with his hand on the small of her back.

*

“Is this your first time seeing my place?” she asked politely when they walked into her apartment. 

“Uh, yeah.” Roy nodded. “Pretty sure, but it’s nice. Good view.” 

God it was awkward.

“We don’t have to make small talk, do we?” she asked with a hesitant tone while putting down her stolen glass down on a countertop. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to Roy and continue their banter from earlier, but she did have more pressing issues to take care of first.

Roy crossed his arms, his brows furrowed as if he was thinking something through, asking, “No chit chat? You sure?”

“If you are.” Kylie shrugged. 

Faster than she could say flash Roy closed the distance, crashing their lips together in a feverish rush. His hands were already desperately clinging to whatever fabric he could find to rip it off of her. 

“God you just got even sexier,” she breathed into his mouth. 

Kylie could feel the corners of his lips twisting into a smile, presumably at the relief that he didn’t have to wait around anymore. 

“Back, uh, back room, on the right,” she instructed between breathy moans, following Roy’s lead and removing the thin piece of fabric he dared call a shirt as he pushed her into her bedroom.

Their costumes flew left and right in a haphazard rush to undress till Kylie was finally down to just her corset, and Roy had to let go of her to focus. 

“Lord have mercy.” He stopped in his tracks, admiring her tits when they escaped the top loosened laces of her corset.

“You like em, baby?” Obviously Kylie knew the answer, given the way his mouth practically salivated at the sight of them. 

“You have no idea,” he moaned, taking one of her nipples in his mouth, causing her head to tilt back in gorgeous ecstasy as Roy’s tongue swirled around it, soothing where his teeth had grazed it. 

He let the now over-sensitive bud go with a loud pop, satisfied at his handiwork, and reached for the second one, repeating every step, every bite and every lick, making Kylie practically vibrate with desire.

“Now don’t make me beg.” 

Kylie’s long fake nails latched onto Roy’s ass in a desperate attempt to guide his thigh between her legs for any kind of friction as he kept worshiping her breasts. 

“I can’t help it,” he murmured into her neck, latching onto her pulse point with his teeth. 

“Dammit, why did I wear this stupid thing?” Kylie whined.

She hadn’t expected Roy, ever the hardass, to be so attentive or teasing, letting her get embarrassingly wet and needy before he even made an effort to remove her corset any further. 

“Don’t worry baby, I got you,” he soothed, at long last pulling the laces apart. 

His gentle tone was a stark contrast to the way his teeth tore into her flesh, nipping at freshly exposed skin lower and lower at a snail’s pace till his knees hit the floor.

“Boy, if you don’t-“ Kylie exhaled impatiently when he paused right at her clit, so close she could feel his breath against her wetness.

She grabbed a fistful of Roy’s hair, the fingers of her other hand spreading herself open so he couldn’t miss what she was asking. Practically offering herself up on a silver platter for him to indulge in.

Roy smirked at her, probably ready to quip something stupid back at her but she pulled his head between her legs, trapping him with a flat palm behind his head before he could even dare.

Finally obeying, his tongue flattened out against her with his eyes pointed up at her, carefully watching her every reaction to every drag of his tongue.

“Baby, please,” she moaned a little more forcefully this time, rolling her hips against him. She didn’t have the patience for teasing licks anymore. She tried angling her hips up so he’d get the message but her legs faltered. 

“Woah there.” Roy grabbed onto her with both arms, steading her so she wouldn’t tip over. “Maybe we should…” He tilted his head towards the bed.

“Might be for the best,” she admitted, letting go of Roy so he could stand up. 

Face to face again, Roy slipped his tongue into her mouth, letting her taste herself on him as he walked her till the back of her knees hit the bed and she finally laid down.

With his hands on each thigh and a good forceful push, he shoved her further on the bed, her head against the headboard so he’d have enough space to lay down between her thighs on the edge of the matress. 

“Baby,” Kylie gasped when Roy’s thumb replaced his tongue on her clit, swiping quick circles around and around till she was breathless. Her hips thrust sporadically onto his pointed tongue, white knuckles gripping the sheets the only thing grounding her. 

“Good?” 

Ungodly good. Her whole body was alight, lightheadedness set in, her belly warm with anticipation, her cheeks flushed bright glowing red; all the warning signs that she was about to snap.

“Faster…”

“You’re so-“ he tried humming against her but a firm tug at his hair shut him up again.

“Don’t speak!”

It was all too much, even the way Roy was moaning into her while his hips rolled against the edge of the bed. 

“Just a little more…oh god…” She sucked in a deep breath, bracing herself as waves of overwhelming pleasure crashed down on her, knocking the wind out of her till she was a softly cursing mess.

The way Roy was still trying to toy with her by tentatively licking slow strokes around her clit even after she stopped shaking, although appreciated, had left her overstimulated.

“I need a minute.” Kylie tapped Roy’s shoulder. 

“You okay?” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Well, I’m definitely kicking myself for not doing this sooner.” Roy flashed a cheeky grin, wiping his wet chin off on her thigh. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” She caressed his face, slipping her thumb into his mouth for him to suck on instead, dragging his bottom lip out. “I knew that big mouth of yours would have a good use one day.”

“Bitch.” Roy bit down. 

“Why you son of a!” she hissed.

“What? Little ol’ me with the big mouth?

“If you don’t get your ass up here,” she snarled, sitting up and leaning forward enough that she could brush her lips against his, tempting him with a kiss just out of reach, “so help me…”

Roy eagerly obeyed and not particularly in the mood to mince words, Kylie pushed him down into the bed and straddled his back effortlessly in one swift motion. 

“Knew those redneck Olympics would have a good use one day.” 

“No more talking,” Kylie ordered into his ear, pinning him down with her body weight. 

“Yes, ma’am.” If it wasn’t so cute the way he said it so earnestly she might’ve corrected him again.

She started at his shoulders, digging her thumbs into the sore muscles as her hips subtly rolled down onto him, mimicking the way he pleased himself before she stopped him. 

Her hands moved lower, exploring the taught muscles flexing under her nails. Kneading his ass through his briefs till he tried to reach a hand into his underwear.

“Now you’re just being a cunt,” Roy huffed when she slapped it away. 

She wanted to be generous and let him get off, sure, but not before she could have at least a little bit of fun with him as payback.

“Uh uh,” Kylie tutted. “I’m being a lady, and I’ll take my sweet time if I feel like it.”

Roy dropped his head into the pillow clutched between his fists, a deep annoyed sigh making its way through the fabric. 

“What was that?” she asked, tongue in cheek, but he simply repeated the sigh, louder this time. 

Kylie could tell by the tight black shirts he wore so often on stage in his Instagram reels that Roy, at the very least, kept an eye on his physique after top surgery.

She’d never seen him this naked or this up close, obviously, but she had to admit; she agreed with Roy on his stance about not doing this sooner. 

He’d always been pretty thin but lately his shoulders and back had filled out quite noticeably while his waist and hips stayed as petite as ever, maybe even some new definition in his faint abs if anything.

His tight little ass, however—in his skimpy shorts, she knew it would be irresistible, imagining it as a cute little bubble butt just enough for a fist full each.

Curiosity was getting the better of her and Roy’s sighs had turned to muffled moans by now. She slid off of him and hooked her fingers into his waistband, ready to whip off his underwear in one go till she remembered he had his packer in. 

“Can I take this off too?” Kylie gave his underwear’s waistband a little tug, revealing a faint hint of a tan line above his ass crack. She bit her lip, trying to hide how enticing this little detail was to her.

“Yes! For the love of God!” 

“Just checking,” she lilted innocently, smiling at his impatience. She yanked off his underwear. “Oh!”

“What?” Roy shot up onto his elbows, looking over his shoulder with panic in his eyes.

“I just knew you’d have the cutest little fanny!” Kylie squealed in delight, grabbing a perfect fistful, just as she anticipated, of each cheek, earning an eye roll from Roy. 

At this angle on all fours, ass up with his cheeks and legs spread open, she could see just how practically dripping wet he was. 

“Poor honey bun,” she fawned over him, nails running up and down his sticky inner thighs. “You really are such a mess, huh.”

Roy bit into the pillow, refusing to give her the satisfaction she was looking for, but his legs bending to get closer to her fingers said more than any words ever could. 

Kylie finally showed some compassion and gave his slit a drawn-out lick, all the way from his dick to his hole.

Roy surprised them both when he let out a loud high pitched whimper, quickly throwing his hand over his face, “Oh my god, I am SO sorry.”

“What was that?” Kylie laughed loudly, she leaned on her side to get a good look at where he was hiding his face in the pillow again.

“I don’t know!” Roy admitted, joining in on the laughter. “Nobody’s tongue’s been that far back in a while! I guess it-it took me by surprise maybe?”

“That’s okay, sugar,” she teased in a low voice against his skin, already hovering over the same spot, ready and waiting. “Do you want me to do it again?” 

“Fuck…please,” Roy sighed pushing his hips back against her tongue. 

He reached for his dick again, jerking himself off in the same rhythm Kylie’s tongue had set for them. Desperation palpable with every stroke or every time he’d bounce back against her. 

Maybe if Roy’s muffled groans weren’t so distracting, either one of them would have heard the front door of her apartment opening.

“Hey, Kylie! Have you seen my blue work shirt?” her roommate shouted, clearly shuffling through the apartment. “I need to switch clothes, but I can’t find it-” 

“Fuck!” Kylie jumped off the bed, already throwing on a robe that was sitting on top of a hamper pile nearby. 

“What is she doing here?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know, but I’ll be right back,” she whispered, quickly wiping her mouth off with Roy’s discarded crop top. 

“Hey, that’s—whatever.” He gave up the fight about his shirt being a makeshift cumrag before he could even start. 

While she was dealing with that mess, Roy figured he’d make himself at home. He rolled himself over onto his back and tried to get comfortable, but his erection was by now downright painful.

Just to ease some tension his fingers, lazily slid up and down around his growth till he found a rhythm he liked. Four loud buzzes from his phone on the floor pulled him back to the present. He reached down to pull it from the pocket of his shorts.

Shane J:

Hey

Shane J:

What are you up to?

“Ah fuck,” he sighed. He forgot to say goodbye to Shane before he left and now, clearly bored and/or drunk, he needed some company.

Shane J:

I need you to come over 

Shane J:

I’ve got something to show you

He bit his freshly painted nails, debating what he should do or if he should say something since this situation, as fun as it was, seemed to be over. 

“She’s gone.” 

Maybe not. 

Kylie finally came back in before Roy had time to open the messages, her untied robe already on the floor, ready to get straight to business again. 

“Great.” Roy shoved the phone behind him like a child who’d been caught with it after bedtime. 

“Now,” Kylie purred, climbing over the bed towards him, a huntress on the prowl. She spread his thighs open, threw her left leg over his and with a little repositioning managed to get them pressed together at just the right angle. “Where were we?”

The pressure of her body weight resting on his dick was electrifying, making his hips inadvertently thrust up against her. Finally, he could let go of that breath he’d been holding in.

“That good, baby?” she asked, leaning down to suck on his bottom lip, their hips grinding together in unison.

“I want to fuck you,” Roy whispered into her mouth, his voice practically hoarse with want. 

“Then put it in.” Kylie stilled her hips and leaned back, pulling him with her till their positions were switched. Now with Roy on top and in control. 

His eyes flicked between hers trying to work out what she was planning.

“What?” She slipped her fingers into her mouth, pulling them back out with a thick trail of spit. “Do you need a map?”

She took his dick between the top of her slippery index and middle finger, guiding it just a little lower towards her entrance, and he gasped at the contact. 

“Fu-uck.” His eyes fluttered closed as she pushed his dick into her. He had to pace his breathing to avoid coming right then and there.

It wasn’t particularly deep, but god what he could manage inside felt fan-fucking-tastic. She was tight and wet and absolutely stunning. Especially when she grabbed his ass and wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him tightly while pushing up against his thrusts. 

“You never tried this?” she asked softly, her fingers dancing along his well-sculpted chest and around his scarred nipples. 

“Not exactly…” he admitted, looking down between them, slightly embarrassed for not thinking of it sooner. “But better late than never right?”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded, progressively struggling to form words as he fucked her harder, needier.  

He could feel the pressure in his stomach building, the possibility of finally getting to come so close, but seeing her fall apart like this a second time was too tempting to pass up. Almost worth edging himself one last time.

His thumb was already rubbing her clit in quick figure eights again in the same way she responded to so well last time, earning louder and more full-throated moans as opposed to her cute little whimpers.

“Oh fuck…” Kylie gasped, throwing her head back onto the bed, her legs trembling as she clung to him for dear life.  “Don’t stop…don’t stop…”

He could feel her tensing from deep in her core, every pulse, every flex around his growth pushing him further into oblivion. Unable to process any coherent thoughts. His hips frantically jerked into her even after her limbs went liquid.

“Keep going,” Kylie whispered, her nails deep into Roy’s ass. 

“Fuck I’m gonna come!” he growled, gritting his teeth, steadying himself on her shoulders. “Are you-“

“Keep going…” she repeated.

“I’m gonna…I-”  He finally came. Unabashedly moaning out any last praises in her name as his whole body ignited, like a high he hadn’t felt before and he wasn’t sure if he could come down from. 

His head full of lights and tingling, his body overheated and overstimulated but he knew he needed more, he needed to come again and fast.

“A little more left in you, Sugar?” Kylie asked sweetly, wiping some sweat from his brow. 

“Yeah,” he panted, desperately fumbling, struggling to find the right spot he had inside her again after he accidentally slipped out. “I just need to, shit, get this right.”

“Do you need help?”

“Fuck this.” 

“C’mere, it’ll be easier,” Roy quickly scooted up to hover over her chest where Kylie waited, resting on her elbows so she’d be the perfect height.

“Jesus…Christ.” He let out another shocked high pitched whimper when her tongue circled his dick. He grabbed her head on either side, guiding it where he wanted her to suck a little harder instead. 

“Don’t bother being gentle,” she purred against him, sending delicious shivers straight through his whole body, fogging up his already oxygen deprived mind even more.

“God, where have you been hiding all my life?” he joked in an effort to regain some control, fucking her face till he turned to jelly.

Legs weak, oversensitive and spent, he finally fell back, laying down opposite her; the both of them giggling at the absurdity of the night’s events that lead them here and the scattered bites and bruises they each showed for it. 

“Boy, that was a blast wasn’t it?” Kylie was the first to speak, again, patting Roy’s sweat-drenched thigh.

“Fuck,” was all he managed, still a chuckle in his voice. “We should do that again sometime.”

“Yeah, some time…” she lulled, feeling around the bed for where her phone had dropped when they walked in earlier. “I mean, it’s only about midnight now, what time do you have to leave?”

“Seriously?” Roy shot up like an overzealous meerkat, looking at her in disbelief. 

“Well?” She shrugged, hooking a leg over his so they were in a perfect scissor position again. “Might need a minute to catch my breath, but you tell me,” she teased, scooting her hips closer so they were touching again.

Both holding onto the other’s hips, they happily melted together again, laying back down to lazily enjoy another round as Roy sighed, “God, I love pride.”

Pride Challenge Points: 7685

[phoenixtakaramono]

What did you think about Helluva Boss season 2 episode 4? Do you think it's a good season or is it kinda fizzling out? Do you think the stolitz ship is gonna survive this season? Is anything thats happening in cannon going to have an effect of "A prince and his barron"? Thank you!

1) Ooh, alrighty, Anon. It’s been awhile since I got a HB-related Ask! Honestly, I felt, for what the episode had to do, from an objective point of view as an adult who’d graduated from a design college (thus, I’ve seen the amount of work folks from the Illustration - Animation fields have to do and the miracles they have to pull out on a deadline) and as a fanfic writer who keeps up with new Helluva Boss episodes so I can keep up with the canon lore, the episode served its purpose. The end of the episode hit hard, no? So they delivered on that. Personally I would change a couple things to make certain things hit even harder (because I’m sadistic and love me my emotional knives in stories) but that’s only because I’m a writer myself and I always have things I would do differently, even for my favorite shows or movies, haha.

It might not be my favorite episode per se, but we’re almost halfway to the end of Season 2 so there are going to be episodes that are stronger and episodes that are weaker. That’s just how shows go, overall. Plus, they are an indie crew so you just have to be more forgiving, especially when it’s a collaborative group effort with everyone’s conflicting schedules all around the world, time crunches, and unexpected setbacks such as having to find another VA and nervously hoping the realistic backlash of a changing VA won’t hit too hard. There’s also the rumor I’ve seen floating around that Loona’s VA was grieving the loss of her fiancé during this episode, so her not voicing any lines is also understandable on a fundamentally personal empathetic level (I don’t know if this rumor has been debunked, but it’s also still understandable for any other reasons. But I won’t get into that here.)

Animation is hard, y’all. And you have to remember the people creating Helluva Boss are human. Not all episodes will be perfect. Even with my favorite show rn, I have certain episodes I’m happy to rewatch and certain ones I skip. There are certain seasons that will be stronger and some that you’re not that into.

I will have to say, this episode isn’t an automatic skip for me unlike the Cherubs episode sorry, I just don’t like the Cherubs personally, haha, but I understand their reason for existing in the canon lore so kudos to the animators and VAs. I do appreciate the animation of S2:E4 though. The songs were nice, and it was interesting to see the storyboards and the tweets from the song writers about the direction they were given—and how that resulted in the final product. It’s very interesting to see all the behind-the-scenes stuffs.

2) I have yet to see all the episodes of Season 2 so I will be reserving my judgement. Of all four episodes released thus far, I think S1 is stronger—but it’s an unfair comparison (like apples vs oranges) because we’ve seen all the episodes of S1 and we have yet to see the rest of S2.

“Fizzling out” is a strong word. Hmm. (Anon, and I mean this with love, if my support or interest in a show genuinely “fizzles out,” that’s not a good thing; you’re not going to see me continuing with something if my enthusiasm fades and it feels like a chore just to sit through something, trust me.) I have to say, excluding the Circus episode which was very, very strong and Exes and Oohs which I just adored, the rest of the episodes released thus far have things I like and a couple things I’m meh about. But, again, that’s par for the course. So I can’t objectively determine if S2 is fizzling out or weaker yet; I’d have to sit through the rest of the unreleased episodes to make that determination and then see S3.

I can’t remember off the top of my head, but I believe Vivziepop tweeted they were already working on the scripts for S3 or S4. Feel free to correct me on this! But whether it’s S3 or S4 or S5, it shows they have a plan and a strategy and there’s a lot more they want to explore and show us. They’re not spontaneously creating plot beats after every episode has aired (trust me, spontaneous writing is HARD; I have massive respect for writers who can write spontaneously—and still be able to execute it well). I’m in it to witness the spectacle and see where they take us.

3) Hm. So, hot take, but the Stolitz ship is always going to survive regardless of what season it is. They’re not ignorant. I don’t know why there are some people who think or worry the ship isn’t going to survive. It’s the main draw, the main ship, the main way they’re making profit. They sell Stolitz merchandise; it’s the most popular ship in the show. It’s not even fanon; it’s canon. So an expectation has been set, and they have to deliver. Betrayal of expectations, regardless of subversion, will be met with backlash; no one likes the feeling of being lied to. So if the Stolitz ship doesn’t survive, their viewership is going to tank. If viewership tanks, that means less interest, and less interest means less money in the bank.

I’m looking at it realistically—which is honestly kinda immersion-breaking for me because this ruins any tension of the “will they, won’t they” for me, haha (like, no, you definitely know they will)—but it’s honestly why I’m not panicking even if there is “a breakup” or “let’s see other people” or “let’s take a break from each other” or a fakeout death planned. <- That, I think, would be the worst extent of the Stolitz ship temporarily “not surviving” (ey, I understand, as a writer you gotta throw in some angst, hardship, and obstacles so when your characters get together, it feels deserving and earned), but obviously they’re going to finagle a way to get Blitzø and Stolas back together as a couple.

At the end of the day, it boils down to the HB crew’s execution of this ship in the show. There’s a lot of pressure resting on their shoulders, and I wish them luck and success.

At the end of the day, people are being paid to put out a product for mass consumption so they are invested in seeing that product succeed so they can continue to make a profit for as long as they can. Helluva Boss is their money-making machine aka golden goose. This pays the bills for them. They’d be stupid to kill off their golden goose (Stolitz). A lot of names (especially big ones with the VAs) are also attached, so they also want it to succeed. Even if there’s a loud minority of antis on the HB critical side who consistently air that they don’t like the Stolitz element, honestly, nothing they say will make the show-runners of Helluva Boss change their mind on Stolitz being canon and delivered.

4) Is anything that’s happening in canon, as more and more episodes are being released, going to affect my Stolitz fic: A Prince and His Baron (AO3 🔗).

Yes. And no. What I mean by that is I’m going to be choosy with what I see in canon. It’s the reason why I initially strategized to make P&B an AU, because the big risk of writing a long fic for an ongoing show is at some point, inevitably canon will contradict what I have planned or written. With making it an AU, I get to be selective about the canon Easter eggs I want to include or be influenced by.

For example, with the reveal of them being childhood friends in the Circus, I understand and acknowledge their canon direction, but I’m obviously going to ignore it in my AU. They’re going to stay as strangers who happened to meet in their adult years as an assassin imp on the rise and a powerful Goetia prince who wants him on the Royals faction side. Because the latter makes sense for my AU and they have to develop their relationship from a one-night stand (with benefits -> granting Blitz his baron status and land -> lowkey manipulation to make Blitz indebted to him and the land has automatically made Blitz a vassal to the prince by definition) to an understanding and feelings of genuine affection and devotion. We’re playfully poking fun at the Harlequin romance genre after all (assassin x prince), with some Hellish infernal politics.

Somethings I’m taking from canon include the dynamic between Stella and Andrealphus. Oh boy, Stella. What a complete turnaround in opinion I have of her, haha. I’m probably going to take a different approach to her (potential spoiler alert for P&B: she’s still “evil” but I like the idea she’s been spoiled and perhaps manipulated, so for certain things she has a bottom line when it comes to wickedness—and Andrealphus will have crossed that at a certain point in the story and it challenges her core beliefs because now she has to decide betraying her family or aligning herself with the husband (and imp) she despises). Of course, the more episodes I see, the more decisive I will be in deciding whether or not to go with this angle. If I see Stella continues to be an unrepentant b*tch in canon, she may not have the relatively good outcome I had been planning for her in my story at the end with the royal wedding between Stolas and Blitzø.

I also have other things P&B are being affected by, such as the worldbuilding of the rings of Hell. So while I can fill in the blanks and make P&B entirely off my imagination, it’s fun to see the canon lore and see which things to keep and which things I want to take a different approach with. :)

Thank you for the Ask, anon! 💞

[hummingbird-games]

(spoilers for Adrian’s route incoming, etc, etc)

I have been putting off this particular post of ramblings because I truly don’t think I can do justice to putting my thoughts into words for Adrian. Not like the other guys. But at the end of the day these are truly for my entertainment (and God-awful memory) and I just happen to have an audience. So. No pressure. Also I’m trying not to repeat myself. Which is hard. (I love this game. I don’t know how I can make that more obvious?? But I guess I keep trying with these posts and the damn TikToks LOL) 

Adrian is just...such a sweetheart?? And I adored ANY AND EVERY SINGLE TIME we got to tease him???? Beautiful, oh my goodness. 

...Which is why when he wanted to get down and dirty in the GYM but not for workout purposes, I had the gall to be surprised!! 😂😂😂😂😂

But listen!! Anytime he went from sweet, golden retriever energy to serious, intimidating, sexy war god I was experiencing All The Emotions. Which is hilarious because we get HINTS of this throughout the first couple chapters...so I should have seen this coming (also I keep clicking the spice option, like what the heck do you think that means?? @ me) but that didn’t stop me from being dramatic and running back on here to scream into the void (check the tags if you’re interested. I had to make a proper 18+ tag and everything when I was convinced that was gonna happen due to College Craze aha 👍🏽).

Um. So, while Adrian was fighting Logan for Most Horny (sorry, I still think Logan can keep his crown and throne 👀) he was also fighting Ezra for Most Disgustingly Romantic (more evidence is needed from both sides for me for the jury to come to a conclusion)! 

Alsooooo, MC internally screaming in all caps had to be the most relatable shit I have ever seen oh my God. I couldn’t even laugh sometimes because I was like she’s like me, fr fr, with all the seriousness in the world!

Speaking of seriousness, there is a line I really enjoy that comes after the big breakup, which after doing this three times, did not get easier?? It got harder??? I sick. And I still have to do the bad ends in the new year?? I hate this. Anyhoo, the line:

“He recognized the sadness. Saw it in me and walked with me.” 

Grief is a funny thing. It’s different for everyone, and it was this year I truly noticed just how different people who have never been touched by grief walk verses those who have. And there’s a fun little cocktail of emotions that comes wrapped in the grief besides the advertised sadness, but it’s like, deeper than that. Some people are really good at hiding that sadness. And for someone else who has gone through a loss, any type of significant loss, and to see that in someone else and to not run away from it, not try and fix it, not try and belittle you for it? It’s a huge ass deal. 

HUGE. 

So obviously I cried. 

And then more events happened (seriously y’all, just play the game, even if it’s one route) and THIS LINE SMACKED ME IN THE FACE TOO:

“When I was with you I felt so happy...so happy that I worried I’d be punished for my happiness.”

Girlfriend, same. Saaaaaaaame. 

Now, in no particular order or in great detail, because I should wrap this up, here are other things I loved. 

More Grace screentime!!! We get a little of her in Ezra’s route and then we see her a lot more in Adrian’s which I loved! 

Karaoke! Super unique mechanic in the game and I need to go back and unlock all the songs. 

Any and all interactions with Amara!! I love our best friend, send tweet. 

Under the cut because I feel bad hijacking Adrian’s post, but this is a perfect place to conclude my game route ramblings overall.

I think that if I haaaaad to pick, Ezra is my favorite guy. Period. I loved him at jump, before I played the demo! And I will love this fictional man until I die. Tunnel vision?? Yes, what about it?

Logan has my favorite route...because he really was not on my radar and then he was and I feel like one day (in someone’s DMs not here lol) I will untangle why Logan’s route is a study in what romance media is missing for me and how it fucking delivered.

And Adrian? Most likely be who I’d click with in real life 🤔 

There’s so much replayability in An Everyday Love. And even if you exhaust all the available content, it’s still such a comfort piece of media.

So, if I have not convinced you to play, I have failed us both 😂💛And I will renew efforts in the future. 

[zephfair]

9 and 15 for Will You Accept This Rose? for the fic ask game! 🥰

Thank you so much for this ask! I'm very sorry it took me so long to answer!!😫

Will You Accept This Rose aka the story that never should’ve been because I loathe the Bachelor franchise and yet it made for a shockingly successful fic. 🤷‍♀️

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Sort of. I envisioned a lot more but my lousy tech abilities and lack of time failed me. 😅 I had originally planned to have fake Tweets at the end of the chapters showing what the viewers thought of that episode when it finally aired, since I tried to keep each chapter to one “episode.” I just couldn’t get them to format in any way I liked the looks of when I posted the first chapter, so I left them out. I really, really wanted to do them with one of those fake Tweet generators and make them look fancy and official, but that would’ve involved me figuring out how to use that, and I didn’t. I played and played with just putting the Tweets in the text and trying to make it clear that these conversations were from fans, but again, I just couldn’t get it to look good. So I have a bunch of that stuff in a file because I never delete stuff; I hoard it. 😂

Also, it originally stopped after Ronan and Adam gave each other roses at the ceremony then just glossed over Blue’s ending. I wasn’t happy with that, so I kept poking at it but I wrongly thought readers would only care about the Ronan/Adam pairing. Then, as I was posting, I got so many comments supporting Blue/Gansey/Henry and I was very excited. So I went back and added scenes to suggest the Gansey/Henry happening right in front of oblivious Ronan while trying to ramp up the romance between Blue and Gansey and Blue and Henry. I didn’t know if readers would care as much as I did about them, but they supported it, so I indulged myself with writing their dates too. I was really happy with that.

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

I learned that other people can enjoy fluff and crack too! I honestly didn’t think anyone would read it, let alone like it! I love reading humorous fluff and crack, and it’s all I can seem to write these days, so I was thrilled that other people enjoyed it. I mean, the whole story is basically a rom-com wrapped in cotton candy. There's no drama or narrative tension or real plot to it.🤣

I wrote the original fic in a week while I was stressing about looking for a job. All day, every day that week was: write a cover letter, send in a resume, then reward self with another 1,000 words of crack. Submit another online application; finish a chapter. It literally flowed out of me. It was 33-34K words when I thought I finished.

(Pictured is part of the thread I tweeted while I was finishing the fic and bemoaning the entire process of job seeking and writing nonsense.)

I decided to post one (1) chapter and give it 24 hours. I thought no one would read, let alone comment, and I’d slink back in and delete it, knowing that it had served its purpose in keeping me sane and helping allay my anxiety while I was submitting failed applications. Then it took off and I got the loveliest comments and started to meet people in the TRC fandom and I just 🥺🥺🥺 (My job quest was totally unsuccessful and I will be back in the fray in February so who knows if that struggle will shake loose some more fic from me!)

I also learned that TRC fandom has the best, kindest, most wonderful commenters on AO3! 💖💖💖

And finally, I learned that I could use the trauma of having to watch those reality dating shoes with my aunt and turn it into fanfic! I am slowly overcoming my trauma! 😂

If anyone else wants to ask, here are the questions.

[helski48]

Box office flops

I keep seeing news articles talking about movie flops and what went wrong. It got me thinking and I thought I’d share my personal opinion. Just putting this out there, I’m no expert but I do have a degree in film and films have been my greatest passion since I was a child. I’m 38 to give you a little perspective about myself.

In the 1970s cinema was forever changed by Spielberg, Lucas and Coppola. It was during a time where entertainment wasn’t as readily available as it is today. These three friends brought us new cinema, whether it was epic space battles, mafia feuds or a terrifying relentless shark. This changed entertainment for a generation and continued throughout the 80s and 90s.

However, formulas that worked during those three decades no longer work. With access to streaming, people would rather watch a film at home than venture out.

Back in the 90s the draw to the cinema was big name actors like Tom Cruise or Julia Roberts. However in today’s movie going generation there are so many celebrities that there are no clear favourites which would make people go to the cinema. The other issue is celebrities are more in reach than they used to be and we know everything about them so one minute everyone loves an actor and then the next they’ve been cancelled due to an old video or tweet.

My generation, the good old millennials are probably the last generation to have an appreciation for cinema. The problem is we’re all too busy and our incomes are so low that we choose not to go out. We have to prioritise and families have to come first.

Also the latest generation of young people are more technologically sophisticated. They would rather watch apps on phones than go to the cinema.

Films have gone through so much change, we had the introduction of CGI which got bigger and bolder. Some films chose style over substance and the style even falter due to a rush in production.

The 12a rating in the UK was also introduced back in early 2000s and while it means families can get to the cinema, it does mean that intent of the film is hampered by what can shown or said. Back in the 80s and 90s there were more 15s and 18s. These are classic films and could fully tell the story without worry about offending anyone.

So I guess that’s my take on it. Not looking for agreement as everyone is entitled to their own opinion but hoping it provokes thoughts about the future of cinema.

[jodilin65]

Tom’s giving plasma now. Hopefully anyway. They won’t take him if they see leftover bruising from the last draw, and he’s been having trouble getting his arms to clear completely. He’s been gone a while now, so I’m guessing they took him.

I’m trying to make a point of getting 10 minutes of sunlight every day that I’m available during daylight hours. I didn’t get up until 8 this morning, so by the time I was fully awake nearly two hours later, I went out and it was beautiful. The sun still hurts my eyes at times and I guess it’s because I spend so much time indoors. That’s part of why I’m making a point of getting out there when I can. I’m definitely going to add two vitamin Ds a week rather than three because I can tell my TSH is rising. My energy levels are still better, but I definitely want to keep out of those double digits.

Spectrum was next door again yesterday and Ray still hasn’t gone back to blasting the TV. Who knows if that’ll change when I’m staying up in the evening when sound travels better and he’s more likely to open a window? Maybe he was busy doing something else in another room at that time but still wanted to hear whatever was playing so he cranked it up. We have the same house model and his TV is in the same place ours is which means the only way you can see it is if you’re actually in the living room. Hopefully, it won’t override the MLV or be noticeable in other rooms to the point where I need to talk to him. You just never know how people may react, but I do know my temper. I still shouldn’t have to listen to anyone else’s TV, music, or anything in my home just like they shouldn’t have to hear any of my shit in theirs.

Still sorting drawers and cabinets in the kitchen and closet and making progress. The negative to a small place is that while it may be good for the electric bill, it’s not good for finding things because you have to have so much stuff packed in tightly. In a bigger house, there’s room to spread it out, although I still forget where things are a lot because my short-term memory is going to hell. Nonetheless, I’m doing my best to organize things.

I have all things painting gathered in a large, clear plastic bin but there are other hobby-related items to organize as well, like diamond painting and drawing. I now have the latch-hook rug and cross-stitching stuff as well, though I don’t see myself taking the cross-stitching too seriously. As for the latch-hooking, I don’t know yet.

I’ve been toying with the idea of dedicating a Facebook profile that wouldn’t be in my real name to journals and other things. I already have an account that I’m slowly adding old journals to and the reason the idea kind of appeals to me is that while I wouldn’t be able to see my visitors there, I could easily share pictures and even my tweets there. On the other blogging sites, this is a real pain in the ass and I have space limits on me as well. I wouldn’t give up the blogging sites, though. I’d just share the link to it. I decided it’s okay to share links that don’t involve my main Facebook account. I’m very picky about who I add on my main account. I prefer to keep that for people I’ve actually met or cyber friends that go way back in time. I mean pre-Citrus Heights time.

I still long for a friend like Aly but I realized this is never gonna happen. There will never be another Aly again. It still would have been nice if there could have been someone with similar traits. Tinkerbella isn’t Tinkerbell, but she’s similar. She’s smart, playful, loving, and affectionate.

Understandably, we all want some attraction to those we’re intimate with but whenever it comes to friends, I’ve never given a shit what they look like. I would value a 300-pound blimp full of acne who was honest, real, intelligent, and accepting over a gorgeous person who lied and was judgmental. Honesty and intelligence are what I value most on top of acceptance. They don’t have to be a rocket scientist because no one knows it all. It’s just that smarter people tend to be more reasonable.

Only stupid people like Andy would think I could possibly have some reason to lie about my sleep disorder, for example. What compounded his stupidity was that he should have known better after knowing me all my life. It wasn’t just me, though. He thinks everybody is lying about everything. But smarter people are usually smart enough to be able to tell these kinds of things and also able to put themselves in someone else’s shoes, even if they’ve never been in those shoes themselves. They just seem to be better at being able to rationalize and understand things even if they’ve never experienced them. So Aly was smart enough to realize A, there couldn’t be any good reason why someone would make up something so bizarre to begin with, and B, no one would want to live with such a thing. It didn’t take her God knows how much time to finally “hit her like a bell in the night” that no one wants to get up at 3 in the morning.

Actually, it’s getting up around 6 in the evening I hate most because while I may get more peace that way, by the time the sun is up and stores are open, I’m getting tired.

I like smart people. They’re observant, they catch on quicker, they tend to retain what they learn, and are just more open and accepting in general. I would love to have a special friend like that where we share what’s going on in each other’s lives nearly every day and have some interests in common, especially writing. But I just don’t see it being meant to be. I wasn’t kidding when I said that Aly losing her life wasn’t just a punishment for her, but for those who cared about her as well. There’s been an empty void in my life but you can’t make people be what they aren’t or hunt for a specific person and expect them to want a relationship or friendship and like the same things you do in the way you can hunt for a specific item of clothing. There’s just no ordering up a second Aly-like friend. I’ve found that most things that happen aren’t planned. If she’s out there (a he would be fine, although I still prefer a she) I haven’t met her yet and if I have I don’t know it.

I made a promise to myself that if I ever meet this special friend, as long as she’s honest, not overly emotional/dramatic, doesn’t use me as Mary did, and isn’t hurting anyone, I’ll never judge her and will be a good listener when she wants while also giving her space when she wants. If she wants me to keep her out of my journal, I will do that as well. People seem to be all over the place as far as that’s concerned. Some don’t care if you write that they’re crazy mass murderers, others only want you to write good things, and some don’t want you to even mention the most mundane of things.

Unfortunately, Aly was a little less open with her life than I was but one of the things I really liked - for reasons I can’t understand – was that she really came to know me well through our talks and my journals, and she really got me too. I really liked her curiosity and how she cared enough to pay attention and learn things about both my past and present.

It really does seem like so much of life is unplanned. I never planned Tom, but even though I have been attracted to more women than men, his award-winning personality drew me in like a drug. Not that he was ever ugly or just there in the looks department. He’s always had nice eyes. The face is what I notice most. I’d rather a nice face on a less-than-perfect body than a perfect body with a boring or ugly face.

Here we go again with the barking. What happened to being able to go weeks at a time without hearing the fucking thing? It’s been a daily occurrence again. Still better to have a few bursts of that that only last a minute or less than TVs that go on for hours, but still. I guess I’m just a real peace junkie.

A dog I’ve never heard before was making this horrible squeaking sound the other day and the honker’s mutt was howling. I feel bad for the poor thing because he’s been out more and more and therefore it’s got to be lonely. Before, when he went out with his girlfriend, the other dog was still with it. So the thing is spending an awful lot of time alone.

In real life, Nane never had kids. She got pregnant at 39, lost the baby, and didn’t want to try again. But in the dream I had last night, I was thinking that her son was 8 years old when we last talked and would now be 12.

Then I had a nightmare that woke me up for a few minutes. A guy kidnapped me and was trying to pin me down on his bed. I was able to punch him hard enough in the head to knock him out. Then I wasted precious time trying to decide if I should carry on with the attack to ensure I got away or if I should just run.

I made the wrong decision and chose to run. I sprung up off of the bed, out of the bedroom, and down a flight of stairs, hoping to hell the door was unlocked at the bottom because he was already up and chasing me. I was able to get out the door and into the dark of night. I seemed to have run from a building that had a row of apartments in a secluded foresty area. The nightmare ended with me screaming and pounding on doors, hoping someone would be up and able to help me as the maniac closed in on me.