#I haven't worked out in two months

[neiptune]

how many times can user somelattes share a post about feeling like absolute shit before all her mutuals block her challenge

[egophiliac]

don't think I'm not still obsessing over 7-12

[alexandriad]

ancient greek ladies but this time make them mermaids

[kyouka-supremacy]

(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[pathological-runaway]

The Pianist opens their eyes reluctantly and takes off their mask, trying to keep their hands steady. The light shaking must not have escaped the other’s attention, yet they choose not to speak of it. And the Pianist is grateful for their understanding, even if, deep inside, they feel like they do not deserve it. “I’m sorry,” they say, faster than they intended, quieter than they wanted.

you can read the fic here or below the cut

When the children stop jumping around in excitement and the scavengers say their goodbyes, when the hall is empty and the lights are dimmed, the Pianist is grateful for their seahorse mask to have hidden their face the whole evening. The whole day, even. Their hands are shaking, and, the moment there finally is no one to hide it from, the musician breathes out and lets their exhausted body — well, whatever that has replaced their body; they have not had much time to dwell on their current state, their mind too busy to think about themself for even an instant — do whatever it wants to, even if the only thing it wants to do at the moment is trembling uncontrollably.

The Pianist closes their eyes and reflects on whether they should take off their mask when they hear a swoosh of a dress and feel the radiance of a smile so familiar they do not even need to open their eyes to see every detail on that beautiful face.

“Too much excitement in one day for your old age, ain’t it?” the Cellist asks jokingly, laughter audible in their voice.

Always a tease, their partner thinks, and this thought is followed by a pang of sadness that crawls into their chest, unwelcome yet persistent.

The two remain silent for a while, the only sound in the deserted hall being the gentle murmur of the brook. It is easy to imagine that it is but one more quiet night on the seashore, the two of them together with nothing to worry about but their naive dreams, just like in the old times. Except it is not.

The Pianist opens their eyes reluctantly and takes off their mask, trying to keep their hands steady. The light shaking must not have escaped the other’s attention, yet they choose not to speak of it. And the Pianist is grateful for their understanding, even if, deep inside, they feel like they do not deserve it.

“Don’t you go around calling me old,” they reply in a similarly teasing voice despite the weight of guilt in their chest and the lump in their throat, “’cuz that’d make you ancient. And it’s implausible with how pretty you are.”

The Cellist laughs, and their laughter is the most beautiful sound they have ever heard. More beautiful than any musical instrument they can think of.

The Pianist smiles, too, drinking in the sight of their partner. They have spent every single moment since this morning watching them, and yet they somehow do not seem to be able to have enough.

When the laughter stops, they sit in an amicable silence, contemplating the soft moonlight seeping through the window on the roof and dancing on the calm surface of the brook. It all seems unreal, in a way: the concert hall and the flowers, the quiet evening and the presence by their side.

The peaceful moment is tainted the moment the Pianist thinks about how close they were to losing — having lost — all this, and their breath starts getting heavy and ragged.

The Cellist looks at them, brows slightly furrowed, studying their face. They place a tentative hand on the Pianist’s, worried eyes never leaving theirs.

The Pianist wants to drown in them, and feels their lungs contract as their whole body seems to be drowning in something else, something far less pleasant that has invaded their chest and head and tries to suffocate them.

“Cellist-“ is all they can say.

“It’s alright,” the Cellist responds, not letting go of their hand.

It takes them some time to regain control over their own body, to be able to properly breathe again and to trust themself to speak. The Cellist does not leave them for a moment, and this idea alone almost send the Pianist spiralling again.

“I’m sorry,” they say, faster than they intended, quieter than they wanted.

“It’s okay.”

“No, I mean-“

“I know what you mean,” they reply, a shy smile on their face that does not reach their eyes, “and it’s okay. I know you didn’t want to.”

The Pianist lets out a humourless laugh and looks away, their chest tightening again at the mere thought of seeing that expression on the Cellist’s face. The expression they caused.

“This isn’t an excuse. Me not wanting. I left you. I abandoned you. I-”

“I know it isn’t an excuse,” the interruption follows almost immediately, “but I promise, I understand. It’s okay-”

“Please let me finish.”

They hear the rustle of the dress as the Cellist straightens their back, prepared to listen to whatever they are going to say. They squeeze their eyes in an attempt to make the picture disappear from their head, yet, as if out of spite, it does not. The Pianist throws a quick glance at their partner and sees a worried but trusting look in those bright eyes.

Oh, they do not deserve the wonderful person they still have by their side.

“I-,” they are unsure of what they are going to say. They have thought about it many times this day, but the words are all jumbled up in their head now that they actually have to pronounce them, “I hadn’t thought it through. Leaving, I mean. Giving up on everything. Giving up on you. I had no idea what I was doing. It was an impulse. A stupid one. And- and when I did think about it,” their voice starts shaking and they have to wait for a few seconds before continuing, “it was too late. I rushed back to the concert hall a few days later, but there was so much darkness in here… You were already gone. And it got me shortly after that. I think. I- I don’t remember that time very well,” they confess, “but what I do remember is… I needed space. To think. To process things. But instead of telling you, instead of thinking about you at all, I just… isolated myself. Pushed you away. I knew it was hard for you, too, but I could only think about myself, of what I needed. I was selfish,” the Pianist concludes, drawing circles on the ground with their finger, “and I’m truly sorry for that. You didn’t deserve it. I should’ve stayed. I would have. If I could go back-”

There is a soft press of lips on their cheek. Startled, they jump and abruptly turn to face the person whose gaze they have been avoiding for the past several minutes. The Cellist’s eyes shine with unshed tears, but the smile on their lips looks genuine.

“You’re such an idiot,” the Cellist laughs and sobs at the same time and hugs them again as the Pianist freezes in place. The pose is uncomfortable, but, afraid of shattering the moment, they dare not move.

“Well, that’s just rude,” they reply jokingly as they bury their face in the crook of the Cellist’s neck, making the latter giggle.

And for a brief moment it feels like they are back on that seashore, two young fools with a distant dream.

“I don’t blame you,” the Cellist says quietly while playing with their partner’s hair, “I know you too well to have ever doubted your intentions. But thank you. For telling me. Because it did hurt,” their voice is barely audible, and the Pianist holds them tighter, “when you just walked away.”

“I’m not mad at you,” they add after not speaking for a while, “and I’m happy you’re here again. I missed you.”

The Pianist leans back a little to see their face, eyes as deep as the night sky itself and freckles shining like tiny stars on the ghost-like skin.

“I missed you more.”

And kisses them.

[hunysckle]

just devoured this sammich. leftover baby back rib meat, sautéed jalapenos, saurkraut, red onion, and cilantro with mayo and spicy bbq sauce on a ciabatta roll. twas positively scrumptious !!!

[pricegouge]

Sometimes all I need is dick. Or Gillian Anderson.

(How’s life going?🫶🏻)

-🦌🍷

or a lobotomy 🙂‍↕️

and life is going like this:

[a-gay-bloodmage]

Day 26: Isn’t It Improper?

(Josephine Montilyet x Semiha Silva-Adaar)

Now that she’s fought for Josephine’s hand and won, sealed the Breach, lost her arm, and disbanded the Inquisition—listed in no particular order of importance, of course—Semiha Silva-Adaar can’t help but wonder if she can do anything to properly endear herself to the Montilyet family.

Written for the @loveofdragonage event!

Rating: Explicit

Read on Archive of Our Own Here!

[whentherewerebicycles]

.

[mechazushi]

Kafka Hibino

Kafka Hibino.... with visible salt and pepper side burns.

Kafka Hibino.... wearing glasses and has salt and pepper side burns.

Kafka HIbino.... in that black turtleneck and a dark brown leather jacket and also wearing glasses and has salt and pepper side burns.

Kafka Hibino.... wearing that outfit and is an Animal Biology Professor in an College Au.

Kafka Hibino..... asking out Hoshina who is an Advanced Mathematics Professor working at the same college, to have an after-work drink with him.

Slightly DRUNK Kafka Hibino... becoming very forward with an also slightly drunk Hoshina

Slightly Drunk Hoshina... immediately matching Kafka's freak tenfold and Kafka is very much fine with this.

[vaunteir]

i could azujamify these songs watch

[captainjonnitkessler]

I would be so powerful if I had the ability to finish literally anything I started

[alchemistc]

Gave myself a sort of day off yesterday for the first time in almost three weeks and I cannot tell you how much I regret it. My body hurts, I don't want to get out of bed, everything is awful.

[victorluvsalice]

Valicer Multiamory Month, Day Ten: Meet the family (Modern AU)

We've hit the double digit days now in @polyamships's Multiamory March -- and, in a break from tradition with these "prompt fic" challenges/collections, I've stuck with the same universe for two days in a row! Mostly because when I saw today's prompt, "Meet the family," I knew I wanted to do Victor and Alice meeting Smiler's parents, Matthew and Carol Alton --

But, uh, as it turns out, I only have two universes where Matt and Carol actually show up as Smiler's parents -- the Modern AU and Valicer In The Dark. And I'd actually already written VITD Victor and Alice meeting Matt and Carol as part of the last chapter of "A Murder Shared Is A Murder Thirded" (said last chapter is not actually UP at the time of posting, but still). So Modern AU it was! XD Anyway, here's the trio arriving at the door of Matt and Carol's place, with Victor and Alice about to make an interesting discovery about the pair...

(Oh, and for reference: Carol mentioning Victor getting a special dip with no artichokes is a reference to the original "Meet The Family" set of Not-Incorrect Quotes, where Victor revealed he's allergic to artichokes in response to Smiler texting their mum to make her artichoke dip. The allergy itself is a headcanon based off an old Corpse Bride storyboard. *thumbs up*)

--

“Smiler!”

“Hey, Mum! Dad!”

Victor stared as Smiler practically threw themselves at their parents, wrapping them in a hug that was eagerly reciprocated. Wow...you’d never get away with that in my family, he thought, biting his lip. Mother would consider it so lower-class to actually show affection to her only child, and Father would be more interested in making some terrible joke that wouldn’t land at all… His eyes went to Alice, watching the scene with a sad, nostalgic smile. Then again, at least I have parents, so maybe I shouldn’t complain.

Smiler pulled away from their folks after a moment, grinning to beat the band – though, admittedly, they did that on a regular basis anyway. “Great to see you guys again! I’m really looking forward to this!”

“It’s great to see you!” Smiler’s father – Matt, if Victor remembered correctly – agreed, smile as bright as his child’s. He promptly turned it on Victor and Alice, walking toward them with arm outstretched. “And it’s a delight to meet you two at last! Matthew Alton!”

“Victor Van Dort,” Victor said, taking his hand (and privately hoping his handshake was firm enough). “And this is Alice Liddell.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Alice nodded, offering her own hand in turn.

“Oh, the pleasure is all ours,” Matt assured her, pumping both their arms. “Smiler’s told us so many wonderful things about you two!”

“Anyone who makes them so happy is more than welcome in our home!” Smiler’s mother – Carol, yes – added, coming to join her husband.

“I’m glad to hear–”

Victor blinked as he realized he had to look down rather farther than he’d though to meet Carol’s eyes. “That,” he finished lamely. What – she barely comes up to Matt’s shoulder! I haven’t met anyone so short since Lord Everglot! And that was back in Burtonsville, where I’m used to people being odd sizes! Does she think I’m looming? I hope not… He hunched down slightly, trying to reduce his six-foot-three by a few inches. “T-they’ve told us a lot of n-nice things about you too.”

“Yes – I’m rather looking forward to experiencing you in the flesh, not just secondhand,” Alice said, cool as a cucumber – though Victor spotted her eyes flicking between the pair.

“Oh, us too,” Carol said, beaming. She turned and waved them through the door. “Come on in – we’ve got plenty of nibbles! And don’t worry, Victor, I made a special dip for you. No artichokes, I promise.”

“Thank you.” Victor watched as she went inside with Smiler and Matt, then nudged Alice. “She’s in heels!”

“I noticed! Tall ones too!” Alice shook her head, then smiled at him. “Well – makes our height difference look normal, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose – at least they seem nice.” Victor took a steadying breath, then started in. “Let’s just hope this goes better than when I first met Victoria’s parents.”

[roguestorm]

my soulmate or my worst mistake: a lorna pov lorna/alex mix

a thousand times i got up to say goodbye // hey baby, he's just something you regret // any little misstep, i'll be at your doorstep // a standing ovation but i wish that i was wrong // every time you call me, i'll pick up again // i'd do anything just to feel with you // who have i been, if not everything to you // what a lie, what a lie, what a lie // there's been no one i've known that makes me feel at home // i know that you're still self-obsessed // i'm keeping it long as it keeps you calling, honey

[icantalk710]

Not too bad a day at the office yesterday--helps that we can use our patio in nice weather again 😌--leading into a decent arm day workout 💪🏽 (despite how long it took to get a bench for chest press work 😩)