#I'm turning 40 the day after valentines day

[ofkithandmckinney]

UPCOMING MILESTONE BIRTHDAY

Expectation:

Reality:

[yellowbunnydreams]

Do you need some Vitamin D? (Incubus! William x Oblivious! F! Reader) [Part 1]

~Hi lovelies, I'm aware I have been a shitty author and disappeared for a long time, but I have been trying to get caught up with real life and honestly kinda hyper-fixated on minecraft for a week but I'm determined to write! I want to give you all the lovely things so here is an extremely belated Valentines Day fic about monstrous William Afton~

~Happy Valentines, Galentines, Pal-entines and fork-tines to you all! Today we're doing something a little bit silly and something very sweet in honour of the romantic day....A silly fic of monster William x oblivious reader, because let's face it, we all have at least one moment where flirting has gone straight over our heads and we missed the boat.~

@ruh--roh-raggy

CW: 18+ MINORS DNI. Fluff, age gap (Reader 20's - William Afton 40's(?)), teratophilia, meet-cute, punny pick-up lines, scenes of working out, minor porn-logic, ditzy! reader, could be classed as bimbo! reader?, size-difference, flirting, monster-lover, sexual innuendos, Monster! AU

William Afton ran his tongue over his teeth as he lost himself in thought once again. His silvery eyes watching you behind gold-framed aviators as you chatted with your co-workers, the blaring and beeping arcade lights casting colours against your skin in a way that made the older man suck a breath in through his teeth and click his tongue disapprovingly at himself. William had excellent control over himself both professionally and personally, there were plenty of times where his nature wanted to take hold of the reigns and control his actions but he rarely let them.

You were his little indulgence.

As the type of creature he was, it was hard to control obsessions and indulgences. Where did the lines cross? It had been years since he last let himself slip over the line and it had resulted in some unwanted agreements and commitments, a fact he was constantly reminded of whenever he received a letter from his thankfully former wife demanding reconciliation. She never knew the real him though, and William couldn't ever remember a person beside his best friend and his best friend's wife that had ever seen the real him. Just as he had seen the real them.

But as you turned and glanced at the older man leaning in the doorway into the 'employees only' corridor and gave him a little bright smile like always, he couldn't help his usually stern expression quirking at the corner of his mouth to return the smile slightly. You had that affect on the taller man, even if you were unaware of it or his perhaps less than selfless intentions behind it all.

You'd been working at Freddy Fazbear's pizza for just over two months, and in that time you'd made plenty of friends amongst the various members of staff. The cooks knew your break order and always happened to have an 'accidental' order of your favourite cheesy garlic sticks when you'd had a tough shift, people knew that they could rely on you to cover shifts when sick or that you actually knew where the first aid box was.

In general, people liked you, even if you were keenly aware of your one persistent flaw. You were...naïve, at times, and sometimes jokes and stories flew over your head whilst talking with other staff members. And sure, sometimes you'd had your female co-workers come up to you after some guy had talked to you and walked away looking dejected, only to be told they were flirting with you. But you weren't looking to change those things about yourself necessarily, and nobody ever said it was a bad thing that perhaps somebody who was interested in you would have to try a little harder to grab your attention.

"Afton's staring at you again." Your co-worker tutted, crossing her arms and making you look over towards him despite her hissed protests. Spotting the taller man with greying temples and those thin gold aviators that gave him a much more sophisticated look despite his yellow pin-stripe shirt that was a little baggy on his seemingly broad body. Giving him a friendly smile as he was indeed looking your way, seeing his usual frown twitch slightly as he nodded at you and shoved off from the wall, beginning to wander back into the halls of the pizzeria. "He's such a creep."

"He's not! Mr. Afton's lovely, maybe he's just shy?" You suggested, making the woman in front of you raise her eyebrow sceptically.

"Maybe if he was in high-school, he's a grown ass man, he should say something to you if he wants to say it!"

"Well, he and Mr. Emily do like to stand around and make sure everything is running smoothly. He's probably staring cause we're standing around." Shrugging your shoulders as your colleague shook her head and threw up her hands with an exasperated sigh.

"He's been staring at you for like....a month now? Anybody would think you were being sized up to be eaten or something. Or maybe he wants to fuck you." Wriggling her eyebrows suggestively, you smacked her arm and felt your cheeks heating up as you shook your head.

"Don't be silly! Or rude! Mr. Afton wouldn't think like that towards any of us, we're part of the Fazbear family!"

The young woman looked over at a couple of their co-workers sneaking kisses in the pass, with copious amounts of tongue like teenagers who had just discovered the concept of french-kiss and were delighted with the prospect. Shaking her own head as you wandered off to continue working, not wanting to disappoint your bosses.

"Yeah, perhaps a little more 'incestuous' than you realise though." Muttering under her breath as she trailed behind you, helping with the cleaning chores you both had to complete before the next dinner rush.

Meanwhile, William made his way into the offices at the back and made the man already inside jump slightly at his sudden entrance. His dark, short curls greying slightly and wearing an obnoxiously yellow shirt and brown slacks that made William's stomach turn slightly at how bright his friend was. Henry smiled at him from his desk and turned back to looking at the papers on his desk, allowing William to squeeze past and slip into his desk in the back.

The wooden top was cluttered with sheets of paper in neat stacks and animatronic parts in various spread states of disarray. Afton despised paperwork being out of place, but something that he deemed creative like his animatronics were fine to be in various messy states, art to him was supposed to be chaotic and messy. But his thoughts were distracted by that little smile you'd given him, running his thumb over his index nail repeatedly as he stared at his desk.

Henry noticed his silence and turned around in the swivel chair, facing his friend with a curiously raised eyebrow before scooting closer and forcing William to look up at the sound. Frown on his face as Henry broke out into a grin.

"You went out to look at that employee again didn't you?" Henry teased, making the taller man groan and rub his face under his glasses, jostling them from the comfortable position they had been in and forcing him to adjust them before he glared at Henry.

"None of your fuckin' business."

"Oh you did! And it our business! Do you think you might...pursue?" He asked, leaning on the edge of William's desk, making the other man sigh and shrug his broad shoulders as he averted his eyes back onto the projects on his desk.

"Been a while since I...Think I'm just an old bastard at this point." A slight smirk tugging at his lips as he watched Henry rolling his eyes, a huffing, snorting sound that William recognised as a more annoyed sound.

"Where did all your bravado go? Are you sure your previous wasn't a succubus or something? Sucked all the life out of you."

"Wouldn't that be fucking ironic. Must've been a vampire, drained me dry and not in the nice way either." Henry pulled a face and leaned over to smack William on the shoulder, the firm clap reminding William how strong Henry was despite his more slender frame and growing stomach from his wife's cooking.

Both men sat there for a moment before Henry sighed, running his fingers through his curls and shaking his head to dislodge the soft round ears from ontop of his head. Feeling his face getting slightly more full as his teeth pulled at his gums uncomfortably, blinking up at William who simply blinked back.

"Nearly new moon huh?"

"Yeah, it fucking sucks that I can't really leave the office or the house in case, but that's what I have my best friend and my wife for, huh?"

"Don't let your wife figure out they're separate titles." William chuckled, watching as Henry stretched his jaw and pawed at his face as he tried to encourage his more ursine features back into place.

"No way, I value my life and she will absolutely hand me my ass in silver bullets." Henry laughed and shook his head, looking back onto his own desk and spotting the poster for an upcoming event that made his face light up in an even brighter smile as he turned back to William. "You know what you should do?"

"What?"

"Ask her to the staff Valentine's staff-do!"

"Absolutely fucking not!"

"Come on, why?" He whined and William huffed, curling his lip up to reveal teeth a little too sharp to be human before he cleared his throat and cracked his neck, giving Henry a much more normal smile afterwards.

"It's so stupid, and plus, I need to refresh my skills, that takes time you know."

"Just go with what you've got! In fact, start today! Go out there and get flirting! If you don't have a date to that staff-do, I swear to god William, I'll bite you."

"Can't pass on the ursanthropy to me, Henry. But the thought of you biting me in any form is unpleasant." William sighed and stood up from his desk, watching Henry scooting back to his desk and rolling his eyes as he sighed.

Afton hated things like Valentine's Day, thought about all the overpriced flowers and chocolates that were out and about and the tacky foil decorations that would be used once and then ripped down within a day and never mentioned again. But Henry, annoyingly, was right about the fact that it was an opportune time to ask you out and flex his fingers with the charm a little.

It didn't take him long to find you, carrying piles of flat pizza boxes to make-up for takeout and humming slightly as you headed down the winding corridor, peeking over the top of the stack to see where you were going before a pair of hands reached out and took some of the boxes on the top.

"Let me get some of that for you, sweetheart." He chuckled, easily holding the boxes in his large hands and making you smile appreciatively, adjusting your grip on your own stack and feeling better that you could see where you were going and wouldn't run into anybody.

"Thanks Mr.Afton! I hope this isn't too much trouble." Watching as William shrugged and chewed over his lip, glancing over you briefly.

"It's no trouble, hey! Do you like raisins?" He asked suddenly, making you pause as you mulled over the question.

"I mean...I'm not keen?"

"Then how about a date?" William grinned from ear to ear, watching your expression gleefully as you blinked up at him.

"I mean..I might like them? Haven't tried raisins in years, I might have to try them again. Thanks for helping Mr. Afton!" You smiled, wandering through the corridor and towards the front of the restaurant once again, not aware of the flabbergasted look on her boss' face as he stared after you.

You weren't sure what had changed the next day when you came in for your shift, early as always and humming to yourself when you cleaned up. Henry Emily and William Afton came in through the front door, silence between them as you noticed that Henry had a pair of dark sunglasses on despite the early morning light and William had on a tight black t-shirt and jeans, looking more like a biker with a bit of a dad-bod going on. Blinking in surprise as neither of them were really dressed in the professional attire you were used to them being in.

"Good morning Mr. Emily, Mr. Afton!" You called out, causing both men to stop and turn their attention towards you. Afton looking at you with that stern expression he always had whilst Henry attempted a smile, although it fell quickly and settled back into a slightly pained look, causing your brow to furrow with concern.

"Ah, morning," your name was added quietly onto the end, Henry reaching up and rubbing his hand over his face. Secretly checking himself for any subtle transformations, William glancing at him from the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to you. "How goes set-up?"

"Well Mr. Emily, although...are you okay? You look a little sick and tired today. Maybe you should be at home?" Voice laden with concern and head tilted slightly as you watched Henry, managing to miss William's slight smile at your concern for his friend. Henry shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders lightly.

"Ah, yeah just not been sleeping well. Not sweet enough dreams perhaps." Trying to put some humour back into his voice as William lit up and decided to try out another technique on you, feeling his face settling into a confident smirk once more as he looked you over. Somehow you made even the uniform look cute.

"Not like you, hey sweetheart? You're sweet and a dream." You turned to look at him as the much taller man spoke, the same blank expression on your face for a moment before you laughed and shook your head shyly, averting your gaze from his silvery eyes. Wondering if you had ever been so close to him, other than when he picked up the pizza boxes for you.

"You're too nice Mr. Afton, I really just try to be myself." Shaking your head and not noticing as Henry scowled at William from the side, shaking his own head and rolling his eyes behind the sunglasses. "Well, I better get back to work, please take care of yourself today Mr. Emily, and please look after him Mr. Afton." Giving each of the older men a smile before turning back to your duties and allowing them to move on. Still curious as to why they were dressed less formally.

Henry all but grabbed William and dragged the taller man into the back areas and to their cramped little office. Both men staring down as Henry took off his sunglasses and revealed his more yellowish green eyes, the pupils blown out as he struggled to keep himself full in check as the new moon was only a day away. Holding onto his friend's thick arms for a moment before crossing his against his chest, foot tapping impatiently as he had to look slightly up to see William's face.

"What the actual fuck was that?"

"What was what, Henry?" William asked coyly, smirking as the werebear before him huffed and growled in annoyance. Narrowing his eyes as Henry gestured back out towards the main floor where you were.

"THAT! Was that you flirting?"

"Yeah? Girls love that shit, just cause you get that whole 'mate' thing doesn't mean everybody does buddy." William rolled his eyes and crossed his own thicker arms across his broad chest, staring down at the smaller man as he shook his head. Henry running his fingers through his dark curls for a moment as an exasperated sigh escaped him.

"When did girls like that, the eighteen-hundreds?"

"Watch it, and it was the eighties as you well know."

"Either way, you're an old bastard."

"Shut the fuck up, Emily." William growled, his own teeth changing slightly as his lip curled and revealed sharper canines than before. His own monstrous nature leaking through his carefully held together image before Henry blinked and he was back to normal.

Both men headed off into the offices, Henry still shaking his head and glancing at William with a sense of disbelief. His friend was loosing his touch and honestly, he wasn't sure what he could do to rectify the situation without being blunt and to the point which would entirely ruin William's whole thing.

"You're possibly the world's worst incubus, William Afton." Henry muttered under his breath, making William snort and smirk in return as the office door opened and he allowed his features to shift slightly. Sharp teeth, flatter more squashed nose and nails sharper as greyish brown fur started to creep down the back of his neck and onto his forehead, mixing into where his salt and pepper hair normally was neatly swiped back.

"Says you, I'm just getting started." His features turning back to normal as he shook his head. Cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders as the monster once against became the man.

Your phone buzzed on the bedspread as you sat eating cereal in bed and watching some true-crime programme that had come on when you turned on the TV. Almost missing the soft sound before you reached for it and tapped the screen with your thumb to light it up, pausing as you saw it was a text notification and heart pounding slightly as you saw the name attached to it.

William Afton.

Tapping it open, you wondered if perhaps he was asking you to cover the shift the next day, since you had a couple of days off. Although it was usually Henry who reached out and he never texted, always phoned since it was 'more professional'. He had looked sick earlier, so it wasn't out of the realms of possibility that he was handing over the responsibility to William to try and limit how much stuff Henry himself had to do. You paused as the text loaded after a moment and your eyes instantly landed on a photo of William.

It took you a moment to register. But it looked like it had been taken from around waist height and pointed up his body, his greying hair slicked back and wet like he'd just gotten out of the shower, those gold wire aviators catching the light but still able to see his grey eyes and his greying beard. His broad chest was covered in a tight purple shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, the first three buttons undone and letting you see a touch of his dark chest hair that you somehow never realised you knew would be there.

Confused, you looked at the text that came afterwards, your eyes straying back up to the picture occasionally as you tried to figure out what on earth was going on.

'What do you think to the new shirt?' Still confused, you balanced the bowl of cereal on your lap before texting back, thinking on what to reply as you scanned the picture one more time before your fingers moved across the keyboard.

'It's a nice colour on you Mr. Afton. Did you mean to send this to me though?' Turning back to eating cereal and watching the TV for only a moment before your phone buzzed again and you looked at his name popping up on the screen once more, tapping on it to read as you chewed over your next mouthful.

'Shit, really sorry, this was meant for Henry. Thanks for your feedback though.' You tried for a moment to think how your name might end up next to Henry Emily's in his contacts but didn't think too hard about it, popping another spoonful into your mouth before texting back, wanting to reassure the older man that it was a simple mistake.

'It's no problem, I'm not doing anything at the moment anyway. Was just surprised that you texted me.'

A few minutes passed before your phone vibrated again, and you were welcome to the distraction since the programme had become kind of boring and predictable, it was clear who was the murderer and anything was better than the cliche music and dramatic cuts on the screen.

'Not doing anything? A young lady like you should be out and about! I'm curious as to what type of nothing you're up to now though.' The text made you laugh and shake your head, chuckling as you texted back quickly. You weren't sure what it was about the text exchange with William Afton, but it was enjoyable and you couldn't help the involuntary scroll up in the chain of texts to look at the photo again whilst you waited for his reply after your own.

'Sat in bed, eating cereal and watching TV. Really nothing exciting Mr. Afton. I can imagine your evening is more exciting than mine.'

'Well that rather depends on your definition of exciting. What would you be up to if you didn't have the cereal?' A strange question, but you shrugged and replied in the only way that came to mind. Totally unaware that William Afton was across town and laid in his own bed as soon as you mentioned being in yours, a small smirk on his face with one hand tucked up behind his head as he thought it was genius to potentially lure you into a salacious conversation.

'Get up and get cereal :p'

Your reply left his blinking at his screen and he turned his head to look at the floor length mirror across the room, seeing his more monstrous face staring back at him. Soft bunny ears folded back across his head and covered in a fine layer of salt and pepper fur. His large figure spread out across the bed, his clawed fingers running over his head and flatter face, nose twitching as his now pale purple eyes stared back behind his glasses. The bedding up to his waist hiding most of his transformations, tucking his knees up and curling up his lip to reveal his sharp teeth as his foot stamped in annoyance against the mattress. Crossing his arms around himself in a motion of comfort. The lagomorphic incubus was beginning to doubt his own abilities and he didn't like that.

What was it about you that resisted him so easily? He wasn't entirely sure, but he thought it might have something to do with the fact you had always seemed to have a few things...go over your head, to put it politely. Chewing on his lip as he looked at himself once again in the mirror before he closed his eyes and tapped his head back against the headboard, frustrated that it wasn't going exactly to plan.

Unaware of your boss' frustration, you gave up waiting for him to say something back, glancing at the clock and wondering if perhaps he had simply fallen asleep. But you had a small smile that he had talked to you for so long, and wondered if he had enjoyed the conversation too. Putting the dirty bowl on your nightstand to be cleaned up in the morning and sighing as you settled back into bed.

Scrolling back up, you couldn't help one last look at the picture he had sent, cheeks flushing with heat as you shook your head, tossing the device to one side as you rubbed your face. Wondering what on earth had gotten into you that you kept going back to look at your boss and admire the little features of his face.

[anjelicawrites]

Was rereading the Aemond x reader x osferth tag and came across this:

When still single and drunk off her ass, reader bought a huge one, a 40 cm length and 10 cm girth with thick ridges; that had been a blackout purchase which she forgot about until the package was delivered. The thing has never been used; reader and Osferth love pulling Aemond’s leg, telling him that reader has used it on Osferth (”No one can fit it” “No, not with that attitude!”).

May we please have a whole oneshot talking about this? Cause this would be something I would do and it’s hilarious

Sorry for the long wait!!! I'm not sure I have hit the mark perfectly with this one, the muse didn't want to unstruck themselves from this particular idea!

Warnings: mention of dildo usage, a small reference to reader's abusive ex, kissing, suggestive situations.

Not really NSFW but def 18+ please!

You're sorting out the toys. You've already put the nastier stuff away, under lock and key, away from Aemond's eye, now you are sorting the rest of the stuff you and Osferth have managed to collect through the years; today is a day as good as any to throw out the toys that are too old to be used, so you decided to sit on the bedroom floor and start.

You are not listening to your surroundings, too intent in finishing the task ahead to notice Aemond's light steps coming behind you.

"Are you keeping that?" He asks, his soft voice makes you jump in surprise.

'That' is the 40 cm long and 10 cm girth dildo, with thick ridges you bought and never used.

You were drunk when you bought it, not too long after your abusive ex was out of the picture and you were still trying to sort your out your life; you didn't even remember the purchase and was surprised when the delivery man came knocking a couple of days after: that was the day you had a truly hearty laughter after years of pain.

"Why wouldn't I?" You ask, knowing full well where this conversation is heading. "Because you don't use it and Osferth does neither." "Again? That's slander, pretty boy!" "What's going on?"

Osferth's head pops from the door; you two don't even need to talk, not when you know he's seen the huge dildo.

"Aemond is slandering you." You smirk. "Is that so?" "He is saying I have never fucked you using this bad boy here." You say, grabbing the toy. "I've never seen you two use it!"

Osferth enters the room and hugs Aemond from behind.

"It was before you, my sweet prince." "Is that so?"

Aemond's legendary eyebrow arch makes an appearance.

"Why aren't you anymore? Hmm?"

Osferth nuzzles Aemond long neck to hide his smile.

"It had been a feat, sweetling." You say. "For how long you didn't walk straight Osferth?"

Osferth's head sits on Aemond's shoulder now.

"Almost two weeks. I truly felt it, it was great!" "If it was that great, why didn't you use it ever again? Hmm?"

Now it's Aemond's turn to nuzzle Osferth's neck and leave small kisses on the delicate skin.

"I had to drive him to work, he couldn't ride his bike, and preparing him took a very long time. It was hard work to make sure I didn't harm him, pretty boy." You say. "I still think you two are pulling my leg."

Aemond's voice is huskier, now that Osferth's hands is traveling from his chest to his lower tummy.

"You're offending me, Aemond." He says. "I demand compensation."

Aemond turns in Osferth's embrace and grabs his hips, forcing him to plaster himself against his body.

"I can give you all the compensation you need, beloved. Take your clothes off."

You see Osferth visibly swallow and his cheeks turn a dark shade of pink.

"Are you joining us?" Aemond asks you, barely turning his head. "Nope." You answer, spreading your legs. "Let me enjoy the view."

Poly taglist : @fan-goddess, @notyour-valentine, @anakiinx

[ladamedusoif]

Visiting - Chapter 11: My Favourite Work of Art

(Moodboard by @cutesyscreenname)

Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in a small New England town, to spend a year expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor of art history at a small liberal arts college. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.

Chapter summary: Work stresses and the pressures of an impending public talk threaten to derail Ben and Lyd's attempts to do Valentine's Day their way, while news spreads of their romance among the student body.

Word Count: 10k (I'm...sorry?)

Rating: Explicit (MDNI; 18+)

Content (series and chapter specific): Professor Ben College AU; Ben and Lydia are contemporaries; canon is not a thing here; slow burn; idiots to lovers; smut; fingering; oral sex; safe PiV sex; enthusiastic consent; strong language; alcohol consumption; praise kink; self-esteem issues; body and weight insecurity; office sex; students thinking people in their 40s are 'old' (they aren't); some references to previous emotional abuse; references to stress; some minor angst; fluff central and I'm loving it

A/N (further notes at the end of the chapter):

The title for this chapter comes from Chet Baker's 'My Funny Valentine'.

Thank you to everyone who's shown so much love for this pair so far - every comment, reblog, like, interaction, ask is just a joy to me.

See the Series Masterlist for an outline of Lydia's story and background.

Chapter 10 - Chapter 12

Cross-posting to AO3 (and if you're reading on there, too, and yelling along in the comments - I love you, thank you!)

@julesonrecord and @lunapascal - thank you, extended family members of the dorksicles.

Taglist:

@lunapascal , @julesonrecord , @tessa-quayle , @vermillionwinter , @iamskyereads , @tieronecrush , @perennialdoll247 , @love-the-abyss , @imaswellkid , @intheorangebedroom , @javierisms , @fuckyeahdindjarin , @littlemisspascal , @khindahra , @pedrostories , @readingiskeepingmegoing , @rhoorl , @red-red-rogue , @princessanglophile , @katareyoudrilling @survivingandenduring , @trulybetty @fictionismyreality @sunnywithachanceofjavi , @joeldjarin , @lahoozaherr, @s-u-t, @its-nebuleuse

“Okay - dirty gin martini for Lyd, whiskey sour for Evan, and for me, a negroni sbagliato -”

Ani pauses, looking expectantly at you and Evan.

In unison, you look at each other and pronounce: “with Prosecco in it”, in your sultriest tones, before giggling as Ani settles back into their dark red leather chair, drink in hand. 

Evan raises his crystal-cut tumbler. “To us. And to our people.”

“Our people?” Ani arches an eyebrow.

“David, Cass…” He turns in your direction. “And of course, the other half of dorkdom’s greatest love story: Benjamin.”

You roll your eyes, raise your glass, and take a sip of the ice cold cocktail. “To our lovely people.”

Ani and Evan sip their drinks contentedly. You’d tried to meet for a drink every week or so, schedules permitting, since you came to Barrow, and Evan had been adamant that the routine would continue now that you were, in his words, “sickeningly loved-up”. 

“Speaking of our lovely people,” Evan asks, reclining in his chair, “what are your V-Day plans?”

Ani scoffs audibly. “V-Day. Fuck, Ev. Me and Cass are going to a nice hotel for the weekend at the end of February, and I’m sending her one of those ridiculous heart-shaped cookies on the day, iced with the message Fuck Heteronormative Capitalism.” They trace their hand through the air, as if illustrating the inscription. Then, a little more quietly: “And, uh, a nice bouquet of her favourite flowers, obviously.”

Evan sighs happily. “I knew you were a romantic, Ani Sen. We’re sending flowers too - David said some shit about how we’re appropriating and queering the established gestures of heteronormative romance, but I know he just wants some cool blooms in his apartment.” 

“Everyone loves getting flowers,” you add. “I bet even the most performatively straight dude wouldn’t say no to a really nice hand-tied arrangement.”

You become very aware that both Evan and Ani have trained their gazes on you. 

“And what, pray, has love’s young dream cooked up for the great festival of lurrrrrve?” Evan rolls his rs with relish. 

“Uh…” You stare at the olive in your glass and take a fortifying sip of your martini.

“We haven’t really talked about it yet. It’s just been so busy and stressful lately - for Ben especially, but for me too. I’ve got that big public talk at the end of next week, you know, and he’s got that big submission to the college board about the diversity and inclusion plan, and that’s due on 15 February, of all days, and it’s hard, because it’s all still so new and so lovely, and we’re having such a gorgeous time, and we love each other so much and we’re trying not to be stressed, but we kind of are, and yeah - yeah. I guess it just hasn’t been on our radar.”

Ani squeezes your hand gently. “Oh, babe. It’s okay, it’s not like it actually matters, right? If your relationship has to conform on one day, then you’ve got bigger problems. And you two are so happy. Even if a bit stressed. Right?”

You nod. “Really, really happy. Fuck, it’s just my overthinking shit again. Should we do something, is it bad if we don’t, is it too late to arrange something at this stage…”

Evan clears his throat. “Girl, you’re spiralling. Again. Look, I’m sorry. Please don’t feel you have to do something just because of me asking.” He sips his whiskey sour as you smile over at him. 

“I am making him a gift, though.”

Evan and Ani wheel around in their seats dramatically. 

“OH FUCK YOU MISS OH NO PLANS SO STRESSED OH DON’T MIND ME JUST MAKING A GIFT!” Ani shrieks.

You lean over in your seat, laughing hard, grateful for all the love in your life here: the warm, platonic love of your friends as well as the extraordinary, unique love you shared with Ben. 

Deep down, though, you know you should probably ask him about Valentine’s Day. Just in case.

“Hi baby, it’s me!”

You close Ben’s front door behind you and drop the key he’d given you on the hall table. The house seems oddly quiet. It wasn’t particularly late, and you could see the lamps were on in the front room, so you assumed he was up. You take off your coat, hang it up, and wander in the direction of the living room.

Since getting together properly - becoming an “us”, as you’d said that cold Saturday morning a month before - you had not spent a night apart. Within a week, he had a drawer at your place and you had one at his; there were two toothbrushes in each of your bathrooms, now; and while you still valued having your own place, for now, you had begun to settle into a kind of loving domesticity stretched across two locations. 

If you’d been twenty years younger, this would have been moving worryingly fast. Now, though, it felt right in every way. You’d both been through enough to know what you wanted, and to know how you felt about each other. Even in the midst of a stressful time, each passing day only deepened the love that was still so new. Each tiny act of love, however practical or mundane, strengthened the bond between you. 

An example: Ben was astonished when, one evening at your place when you realised he’d not only removed your laundry from the dryer but carefully folded it and placed it in the basket, ready for you to put away (he still didn’t really know where everything went), you’d thrown yourself at him for a huge hug, tears in your eyes. 

“I just folded your laundry, baby, it’s not a big thing! Why are you crying?”

You looked at him, slightly blurry through your tearful gaze, thinking about what you could say to explain. That you’d spent over a decade in a relationship where your partner wouldn’t even think of taking your laundry out of the dryer, let alone folding it and neatly leaving it for you to put away. That you’d become so attuned to a partner doing absolutely nothing to make your life better or easier that you had come to see even the tiniest gesture as a major one. 

Instead, you’d leaned in and kissed Ben softly on the mouth. “I’m crying because I’m so happy. Because you’re the kindest, most loving man I’ve ever met. And you love me.”

You open the door into the living room now, slightly mellow after your martini, and discover Ben sitting up, asleep on the couch: glasses askew, papers and notes for the diversity initiative scattered around his sleeping form, and (somehow, miraculously) his laptop still safely on his knees, his broad hands resting lightly on the keyboard. 

Your heart melts at the sight. You tiptoe carefully over towards him, afraid of startling him and sending the laptop flying. 

“Ben?” you whisper, very gently stroking the crown of his head before lifting his laptop onto the coffee table. “Hey. It’s me.”

He blinks awake and his eyes pop open as he turns and sees you, smiling warmly at the sight. “Lyddie. Hi, darling. Shit… was I asleep?”

You sit beside him on the arm of the couch, not wanting to disturb the random spread of paperwork, and feel his arm wrap around your waist. “You were. Fuck, baby, you’re working too hard on this.”

He shakes his head drowsily, rummaging around for his notes and looking for his laptop. “It has to be perfect.” 

You put a hand on his, to still his movements. “No such thing. And even if there was, it won’t be perfect if you’re writing it half-asleep, Ben.” You look in the direction of the kitchen. “Did you at least eat?”

He nods and smiles cheekily. “I did, but only because some sexy art historian came over last night and brought enough lasagne to feed the five thousand. Or at least, to feed two academics for a couple of nights.”

“Sexy, huh?” You lean closer to him, admiring the line of his neck as he looks up at you, eyes scanning your upper body for a moment before meeting yours again. “Well, now that I know you’re fed and watered…why don’t you put away the work for tonight and take a sexy art historian to bed?”

Ben trails his hand under your sleep shirt, gently stroking the soft flesh of your breast with his thumb as you kiss languidly, your hand reaching into his boxers. 

He shifts on top of you as you tug down his shorts and hitch up your knees. You feel him resting hard and heavy on your soft belly as he continues to kiss you, one hand caressing your face with the greatest care. 

But it’s pretty obvious he’s fighting sleep. His eyelids are heavy, he struggles to keep his eyes open, and when they’re closed - even as he kisses you - you feel like he might just nod off there and then. No one wants their boyfriend to fall asleep on top of them, of course - but he’s got a good excuse. And he’s trying so valiantly to stay awake that your heart swells with affection. 

“Baby,” you murmur. “Baby?”

“Mmmmmfh?”

“Baby, look at me.”

His beautiful dark eyes barely peek at you from under his heavy lids, and you can’t help but giggle. 

“Darling, you’re nodding off. You need to sleep, love.”

Ben looks disappointed in himself, even as he shifts his body off you and back to his side of the bed. “I’m so sorry, Lyd. I shouldn’t be falling asleep on you like that, that’s not fair.”

You turn to face him and reach for his hand. “Ben, you were asleep on the fucking couch at 9.30pm. You’re getting up really early to go to work on the project. It has nothing to do with me or you or what we feel for each other.” You kiss him softly. “You’re just really overworked.”

He trails his long fingers over your hip. “Well…maybe. But I want you, darling. You know that, right?”

You nod. “Of course I do. And you can show me tomorrow, hmmm? So get a good night’s sleep. You’ll need it.” 

He grabs you with a growl and pulls you in to him, holding you close as you squeal delightedly. “You too, baby. I’m a man of my word.”

“And I’m a woman of mine.”

The two of you blink awake at 6am after a blissfully uninterrupted night of sleep, feeling thoroughly restored. 

“My lovely girl.”

“My handsome boy.”

A lazy kiss and cuddle soon becomes more urgent: hands roaming under each other’s nightclothes, seeking to discard them as quickly as possible; soft giggles as your head gets stuck in your sleep shirt turning to gentle sighs of pleasure as he dips his clever fingers between your legs; low moans from him as you straddle his body and take him inside you; cries of mutual pleasure as you come in quick succession. 

You turn your heads to face each other as you flop back onto the bed, sweating, sated, and wide awake. Ben looks at his phone. 

“Not bad going for quarter to 7 in the morning, huh?”

You laugh out loud, turning to rest a hand on his tummy. “What’s that Dusty Springfield song?” You sing lightly: “Just a little lovin’/Early in the morning/Beats a cup of coffee/For starting off the day”

Ben is staring at you like you’re a marvel. “Well, shit. You really can sing. Is there anything you can’t do?”

You flash him a sceptical look. “If I start listing all those things, we’ll be here all week. But thank you.”

He reaches over and pulls you to him for another cuddle. 

“Hey, Ben?” you ask, head resting on his shoulder. “Do you…do you want to, like, do something, for Valentine’s? I understand if it’s not your thing, I’m not a fan of the cheesy stuff but I thought -”

“Fuck. I got you a - no, never mind what I got you. But I completely forgot about making actual plans.” He traces a line along your shoulder. “Other than spending time with you, of course.”

“You know that’s fine with me, love.”

He shakes his head lightly. “No, we should at least go for dinner.” He kisses your forehead, nose pressing against your scalp. “It’s been a very long time since I had a Valentine.” 

Later that morning, you pop your head into the faculty office, where Susan is typing rapidly and humming contentedly to herself. 

“Hi, Susan. You don’t happen to know what room Ben’s in for his ten o’clock lecture, do you?”

She looks up at you and beams, a dreamy look in her eyes. “I remember this phase with Nick. Couldn’t stay away from each other.”

“Well, uh, not quite…” You hold up the dark blue hardcover notebook in your right hand. “He needs this for the session and I’m not sure if he knows he left it at home. I’d like to get there before the lecture starts, so if you know the room…?”

She gives her head a little shake, as if snapping herself out of her reverie, and with a few clicks of her mouse brings up the master timetable. “Okay… yep. Aubyn Building, room 015 - that’s the small-ish lecture theatre on the ground floor.” You thank her and are about to dash off when she calls you back. 

Susan’s smile has become slightly menacing as she stares you down. “We’re all so happy for the two of you. But don’t you dare hurt that lovely man.” 

You gulp audibly. “I promise I won’t. Um…yeah. See you later, Susan.”

You arrive at the lecture room with five minutes to spare, and most of the students are already sitting in the tiered rows, chattering brightly to each other as they whip out their laptops and tablets to take notes (or, let’s face it, do anything but take notes). Ben, dressed in a chartreuse green sweater with the collar of his white button-down shirt just visible, is standing at the podium and staring into his messenger bag with a puzzled expression. Though the lecture theatre is not particularly large, he’s wearing one of the radio mics available in the bigger teaching rooms, to ensure his voice will carry without strain. 

You bounce quickly down the steps in your denim pinafore dress and floral-print blouse, brandishing the notebook. “Looking for something?” You keep your voice low, not wanting to make a fuss in front of Ben’s entire sophomore option class. 

He raises his head and turns, smiling in surprise and delight. “I was starting to wonder if it had fallen out on the way over here this morning,” he says, taking the notebook and looking at it like it’s a Shakespeare First Folio. “I’d have been in trouble without this today.”

You shrug. “You’d have been fine, you know this stuff inside and out. But I remember you making revisions to the lecture in the notebook, so I’m glad I got it to you in time. See you later.” You turn and walk back towards the stairs to the exit.

“Thanks baby, love you.” Ben’s tone is casual, because telling you he loves you is now a kind of reflex for him, and vice versa. 

Except right now, he’s got a radio mic on, and his sweet, nonchalant declaration of love has just been broadcast to the entire lecture theatre. You’ve never seen a classroom full of chatty students fall silent quite so quickly before. 

You try to look back as subtly as possible. He’s flushed pink at the podium, the colour stark against the white of his collar and the green of his sweater, eyes wide and panicked behind his glasses as he stammers and stutters. All the while, the students swivel their heads looking at the two of you, whispers and giggles starting to build in their ranks.

“It’s okay!” you mouth to him. “See you later!”

The eyes of the students bore into you as you make your way towards the classroom door, trying desperately to avoid any accidental eye contact. Out of the corner of your eye you spot a handful who are also taking your class this semester - some of whom you’ll see for a seminar in just two hours’ time. 

Oh, fuck.

As you walk back to your building you try to reason with yourself. It’s not like you’re hiding your relationship, even if you’re not going around broadcasting your feelings for each other to all and sundry, and it’s not inappropriate or against the rules for you to be together. The students would probably have worked it out at some point. Hell, you got the feeling some of them already thought you were together. And it’s not like Ben had uttered something graphic or overly intimate, right?

All he said was he loves you. In front of a whole class of students. Who heard every word. 

You buy a coffee from the little cart outside the library and try to reassure yourself. “It’s fine,” you think to yourself. “They’ll forget it quickly and move on to the next drama.” 

Your seminar with the sophomores has been reassuringly drama-free thus far, save for some knowing glances from the students who’d been in Ben’s lecture earlier that morning. The students are working in small groups on exercises you’ve set around image analysis, using iPads to zoom in on a selection of visual sources and referring back to the set text for that week as they put together their commentary. 

You glance out the glass-panelled door of the classroom, just in time to make eye contact, unexpectedly, with Ben as he moves down the hallway. He grins at you, and your face immediately breaks into a smile. 

“Omigoooood, they’re so fuckin cute!” It’s not clear if the student realised quite how loud they were being, or whether they meant for you to hear, but their whispered comment immediately attracts your attention. They flush and sink down a little in their seat, looking like they might be about to burst into tears. “I’m so sorry Lydia, I didn’t mean…”

You bite your lip and think for a moment, folding your arms as you bring yourself to sit on the desk at the top of the room. “Y’know what? Get it out of your systems.”

The students stare at you, open-mouthed. “You mean…?”

“I mean: get it out of your systems, in whatever way you want. Within reason and appropriate personal boundaries. But only if you promise to focus on the sources afterwards, okay?”

They nod, looking at each other as if to confirm that they’re not being set up. One girl shyly raises her hand. “Um…so are you and professor Morales…”

“We are a couple, yes. Next quest-“

The babble from the students drowns you out. 

Awwwwwwww she���s so fuckin cute I mean of course he would wanna be with her dude he was never with Professor Arden what the fuck dude girl don’t get upset you were never gonna get with a professor I don’t care what you read in stories I thought they were together already do you think they’re getting married omg what if they have babies no don’t be silly they’re probably too old it’s just so nice that old people can fall in love 

At the sound of “old people” you call a halt. “Alright, I think you’ve got it out of your system. Fair?”

A student near the back lifts their hand. “You’re happy, though, right? You look happy.” 

You nod and smile. “Yeah, I’m happy. We’re happy. Okay, so, if we return to what Hall says he-“

Another hand. “Does this mean you’re gonna stay at Barrow?”

You feel your heart sink and you try to keep a bright expression on your face. “Haven’t got that far yet.”

A girl near the front looks panic-stricken. “Oh my god. Is Professor Ben gonna leave with you?!” Her classmates look equally stressed out by the thought, looking at you as if you’re about to take away their favourite pet. 

“I… no? I don’t…uh…” You try valiantly to suppress the panic building in your own chest. “Like I said. Haven’t got that far, not for you to worry about. Okay?”

They nod, but eye you suspiciously for the rest of the session.

Ben is packing up his things when you knock on his office door later that evening, ready to go home. It’s his busiest day in the week and you haven’t even been able to meet for lunch or a quick coffee. He looks up from his bag, smiles at you, and then immediately flushes pink again. 

“I’m so, so sorry about earlier, Lyddie, I completely forgot where we were and then the radio mic and oh god, I’m sorry, I’m so-“

You stop his anxious train of thought with a little kiss to the lips. “Please don’t tell me you’ve been fretting over that all day?”

He shrugs, but his eyes answer in the affirmative. You move in for a little hug. 

“Darling, it’s fine. They’d have found out sooner or later, even if I wasn’t quite expecting a mass announcement to your option class.”

“I know, but… fuck. You know what students are like.” He closes the flap on his bag and reaches for his woollen coat and sky-blue scarf, hanging on the coatstand. “Evan told me that - and I quote - our ‘shenans’ had completely derailed his queer theory workshop group, because they wouldn’t - and I quote again - ‘shut the fuck up about it’.”

He switches off his desk lamp and you both move into the hallway, Ben turning back to lock his door. You stroll down the corridor and around the corner towards the stairs that lead to the main entrance.

“I should probably warn you,” you offer, “that you might hear some rumours about you leaving.”

He turns abruptly, looking completely lost. 

“Remember you walked past my classroom today? Well, my seminar group asked me if I was staying, because of us. I said I didn’t know…and then one of them asked if you were going to leave when my year was done.”

His eyes widen. 

“And you said…?”

You have no idea if your answer is what he would have wanted you to say to them. 

“And I said no, I don’t know, haven’t got there yet, etc.” You exhale. “I just worried that you might hear it back once it’s been filtered through the student rumour mill a few times.”

Ben reaches for your hand as you reach the door of the building, giving it a squeeze. He’s quieter, not saying much but continuing to hold your hand as you walk with him towards the staff secure bike shelter, where he unlocks his bicycle and pops his messenger bag in one of the panniers on the back.

“Oh!” he exclaims as he finishes affixing his bike lights, “I do have some good news.”

You raise your eyebrows expectantly. 

“Lino’s had ONE table left on Valentine’s Day. Now, admittedly it’s at 5pm but if you’re okay with an early dinner…”

“Early dinner means more time at home with you for, um, dessert?”

He rolls his eyes, smiles, and gives you a soft kiss before putting on his bike helmet. Errant curls stick up here and there through the vents in the blue plastic and you melt all over again. 

“I’ll see you at your place? Hope you’re ready for my famous enchiladas!”

You nod and wave before turning in the opposite direction towards the pedestrian route, leading off campus and towards your street. 

As you walk, you find it difficult to shake off the memory of how quiet he had become after you told him about the students and their questions. Would he have answered them differently? 

Regardless of how happy and comfortable and forever your relationship feels right now, you know deep down it’s far too early to talk about the future in that much detail. You don’t want him to think you’re asking him to make a call - make a commitment - that he’s probably still a long way off even thinking about.

You also know, though, that there’s an invisible countdown to the day you’ll need to have the conversation, and that it started running the moment you first kissed. 

“Lyddie? You ready? Gotta go, my love.”

Ben calls to you from your living room. You’re standing in front of the full length mirror in your bedroom, stomach twisting with nerves ahead of your public lecture, and you wish to God you looked…well, better. 

Your slides are prepped. Your notes are ready. You’ve run through the talk’s outline with Ani as well as Ben. “You got this,” you murmur to yourself, and try to suppress the voice that wants to chime in with a jibe about your body, your grey hairs, your wrinkles. 

You blot your lipstick and emerge into the living room. “Okay, let’s go.”

Ben turns, mouth slightly open, and raises his eyebrows as his gaze takes you in from head to toe. 

You tend to wear skirts and dresses when you teach. But for this talk, for whatever reason, you’ve pulled out a scarlet red pantsuit, high-waisted pants cut slim to the leg and tapering to end just above the ankle, jacket with wide lapels and long enough to end just below your ass. Underneath, a vintage-style cream satin blouse, buttoned to the neck and a black velvet ribbon tied under the collar in place of a necktie. 

Black velvet pumps on your feet, oversized brass earrings, a vintage brooch your grandmother had given you on your lapel, and a slick of Lady Danger across your mouth. 

He runs a thumb over his lower lip. 

“Oh, god, it’s shit, isn’t it? I should have known I couldn’t get away with this, not with my fat arse and stupid tummy and ugh, it’s like I don’t realise how shit I actually look until -”

“LYD!”

You take a step back. Ben didn’t yell, exactly, but you’ve never heard him speak so firmly to you. 

His face softens and he moves to hug you. “Aw, god, Lyd, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it’s just - please stop picking holes in yourself. Please. You do it so often, it’s like an involuntary response.” 

He kisses the top of your head. “I’d never lie to you, Lydia. So believe me when I say: you look fucking incredible in that.”

You giggle, head resting against his chest. “You’re just saying that.”

He breaks away, meets your gaze, and sighs. “I said I don’t lie. And I say you look…” his eyes flit up and down your body appreciatively. “You look perfect. Smart, and stylish, and so goddamned sexy I don’t know how I’m going to get through watching you in that for an hour.”

You burst out laughing. “Alright, darling man. You’ve convinced me. ALLONS-Y!”

You steal a glance at your watch as you reach the last paragraph of your paper. For once in your life, you’ve got your timing spot on. 

“To bring this talk to a close, let’s situate these visual representations of revolutionary military masculinities across painting and print can help to shift our understanding of what it meant to literally embody the values of the French Revolution and the Napoleonic empire.” 

The final slide. The final points. A confident “Thank you.” And, to your delight, sustained applause in the packed lecture theatre. You look up towards the back rows, dead centre, where Ben, Ani, Evan, Jen, and David had said they’d be sitting - far enough away from the front so that you won’t see them and get distracted, but within a clear line of sight from the podium in case you panic and need some reassurance. 

Ani is pumping their fist in the air, whooping and hollering. Evan is applauding hard, mouthing “YES, GIRL!”

Ben isn’t taking his eyes off you, a huge smile on his face as he applauds and applauds, not showing any intention of stopping. He looks…proud. You look up at him, shrugging and mouthing the words “Was it okay?”

He nods enthusiastically, and mouths back: “You’re fucking amazing.”

When the questions and discussion are over, and the majority of the audience have filed out of the theatre, Ani and Evan come down to the rostrum to invite you and Ben for drinks to celebrate what Evan was calling “your triumph.” 

“I’ll even buy you champagne,” he promises, hugging you tightly. “Well. Maybe one glass. Or two glasses. I’m not made of money.”

“I am there. I can think of nothing better than a glass of champagne right now.” 

Ani grins. “Hey, Lyd? We’ll be at the Lake Bar in the hotel. You guys can just follow us whenever, you probably need to leave stuff in your office anyway. Sound good?”

You turn back to Ani and nod. “Sounds very good. The Lake Bar! Fancy pants.”

The Lake Bar is tiny but formal, the only bar in Barrow’s only hotel and certainly not your usual haunt for drinks with friends. It’s also probably the only place you could get champagne for many miles.

“Text me when you guys are heading out, okay?” 

You nod as they walk up the steps of the lecture theatre and begin to pack up your notes. It’s just the two of you, at last.  

“You okay there, Benjamin? I’m just going to leave this stuff in my office, and then we can -“

Before you can finish your sentence, he’s cupping your face in his big hands and kissing you like a man off to war. You reciprocate, opening your lips gladly when his tongue sweeps over them and moaning softly into his mouth. You can feel the shiver of pleasure that runs through him.

You break away, his hand stroking your cheek affectionately. You reach out to wipe the traces of your lipstick off his mouth.

“So it was okay, then?”

“Yeah, it was okay, I guess.” He laughs, warm and deep, and takes hold of your hand, leading the way quickly up and out of the theatre and in the direction of your office. You giggle as you try to keep up, Ben looking back at you every so often with a huge smile on his face.

You turn on your desk lamp, shuck off your tote bag full of notes, and exhale, stretching your arms and rolling your shoulders. “Fuck, I’m so relieved that’s done. Can I have a congratulatory hug?”

Ben drops his coat on the spare chair and wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly. Your hands feel the stretch of the cotton plaid of his shirt against his broad back, and the sensation goes straight to your core. 

“I’m so proud of you, Lyddie,” he murmurs. “You’re fucking amazing. Watching you do your thing up there, so smart and funny and bright and engaging and -”

You can feel his cock hardening against you, even through his dark jeans. You raise an eyebrow and lean back to look at Ben.

“Um… does the sight of me in full academic flow do it for you, Professor?”

He blushes a little and gives you a flash of his most puppy-dog expression, brown eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Y’know, I think it does. Especially in this outfit. Fuck, you look so good.”

He tilts his head, and the sensation of his soft mouth and coarse beard against the delicate skin of your neck makes you sigh with pleasure. 

“Tell me.”

He chuckles lightly as he continues to ghost kisses against your throat. “It’s fucking sexy watching your mind work like that,” he says, voice low and warm, as your hands move up his chest to start loosening his tie. “Such an intelligent, gorgeous girl.”

His praise makes your cunt ache for him. You perch on the edge of your desk, the position so familiar from the night of the holiday party a couple of months before, and grab a tissue to wipe off what remains of your lipstick before kissing him hard as you reach for his waistband. He holds you up with one broad hand at your back, as he hastily works your blouse open with the other. 

Ben’s about to slip his fingers under your waistband when this fantasy scenario made real is abruptly interrupted by a cheery, southern English voice greeting you. 

“Hiya!”

“What the FUCK?” Ben swivels around, holding an arm across your chest in a chivalrous attempt at giving you privacy, while trying to buckle his belt with the other. You do up your blouse as best you can and thank the universe that you hadn’t got as far as shedding your pants yet. 

“I thought you’d locked the door,” you mutter, as you stand up and Ben shifts behind you so he can do up his waistband. 

“I thought YOU had locked the door.”

To your astonishment, though, the owner of the cheery English voice doesn’t seem to have realised that he’s interrupted anything, or noticed your hasty efforts to make yourselves decent. 

In fact, he’s kept up a stream of consciousness chatter since he came into your office, oblivious to your and Ben’s panic. When you finally direct your attention to him he’s saying something about Napoleon and pyramids while searching for something in the brown satchel he’s wearing across his body. 

“I…hi?” He pulls out an iPad covered in what look like stickers depicting Egyptian deities and looks up at you, mouth slightly open. 

“Hi. I’m sorry, can you repeat all that, please? We…I mean, I didn’t catch a lot of it. Who - who are you, again?”

The man gives you a lopsided smile. He’s small, angular, and dark, wavy hair parted at the side and falling untidily over his eyes. There’s what can only be described as an aura of chaos surrounding him. 

“I’m Steven!” He seems surprised that he’s having to introduce himself. “I’m a postdoctoral fellow in archaeology - well, now, actually I’m an Egyptologist by trade, in point of fact, but you don’t have an Egyptology department so I’m in archaeology, haha.” He steps towards you, flipping open the cover of his iPad. “I was at your talk just now - really good by the way, really liked some of the paintings you had in the slides - and I thought blimey, wonder if she’s got thoughts on Denon’s Description of Egypt, and then I thought oh well Steven you’ve got it on your iPad don’t you? And I said right well I bet she’d like to talk about that and I looked up your office and-”

Ben has moved to the door of your office and looks pointedly at you over Steven’s head as the postdoc swipes frantically through his files, trying to locate the book in question. “Professor? I’ll be in my office, whenever you’re finished with, um, Steven.”

“Aha! Here it is in all its glory.” Steven has found the digitised copy of the huge, early nineteenth-century study of Egypt, undertaken to document the expedition led by Napoleon in the late 1790s. You smile politely and shrug in Ben’s direction as he sighs and heads in the direction of his office. 

You’d managed to keep your chat to a minimum, in part by promising to meet Steven during your office hours that coming week. A familiar silhouette appears at your open door.

“You finished talking Egyptology, Lyd?” Ben leans against the doorframe. 

“I am. He’s a sweet kid, really. I mean, I don’t think he’s that young, but…” You give your head a little shake, as if resetting yourself. “Anyway. Let’s go. I’m surprised Evan hasn’t left us some furious voice notes.”

Ben steps into your office, shutting the door very carefully behind him and swiping the air to dismiss the idea as he strides towards you. “Pfffft. They’ll be alright, they’re in a bar.��

You wrap your arms around his neck, twirling the curls at the nape of his neck around your fingers. “Darling, we’re already running very late…”

“So?” He guides you back to sit on the edge of your desk and resumes his trail of kisses down the side of your neck. 

“So…” You pull him close to you, fingers hooked inside his waistband, and moan as his hands rove up your body, grabbing handfuls of you through the silk of your blouse. 

He quirks an eyebrow and smiles, looking down at your fingers already working to undo his belt buckle. “You want to stop, Lyd, and we’ll stop. Do you want to stop?”

You lean in and kiss him as you discard your suit jacket, push yourself further back on the desk, and guide his hands under your own waistband.  

“Don’t you fucking dare stop.”

“How many drinks have we had now? Two?!” Jen looks at her phone and shakes her head. “I’m starting to worry.”

“I’m not,” Evan mutters darkly over the rim of his glass. “I’m gonna win our bet, Jennykins.” He shifts his gaze towards the door of the hotel bar. “Aha! Right on cue.”

He leads the group in a slow, sardonic hand-clap as you and Ben walk sheepishly over to your table, apologising profusely as you take off your coats and hats. 

“Guys, I’m so sorry!” You settle into a cosy leather chair beside Jen. “A postdoc called to my office to talk about the Egyptian campaign and…”

Jen looks at you, then at Ani, who looks at David, who looks at Evan, who casts an appraising eye over Ben. 

“Well, I’ll take that twenty bucks now, Jennifer. And Benjamin? You owe each of us a drink.”

“Me?” Ben looks incredulous. “Why?!”

Jen pats her old friend’s arm and shakes her head sympathetically. “Hon, your shirt isn't tucked in properly and Lydia seems to have lost her little necktie. Be real.”

Ben’s ears turn a deep pink as he stands up and fishes for his wallet.

He’s up very early on Valentine’s Day, the looming deadline for his report and funding application pulling him, reluctantly, out of your arms and your bed. 

You stir under the comforter, propping yourself up to watch him dress. You bite your lip as he pulls on his white undervest, admiring the way the ribbed cotton fabric fits so beautifully over the solid breadth of his torso and tummy. He slips on a pale blue shirt, leaving it open as he looks for his pants. 

You can’t help yourself. “Ooof.”

Ben turns around as he grabs his pants, and quirks a smile at you. “Ooof?”

“Just like what I see, that’s all. Ooof.”

He grins as he sits down on the edge of the bed. “I look forward to hearing more about this later, Lyddie.”

You reach around and wrap your arms around his middle, kissing the back of his neck. “Happy Valentine’s, darling.”

In truth, you didn’t mind the extra couple of early morning hours on your own, as it gave you time to finish and wrap Ben’s gift before heading to work. You’re brushing your teeth when you hear your door buzzer sound. 

“Delivery for, uh, Lydia?” It’s barely 9am on Valentine’s Day and the delivery guy already sounds like he’s in the throes of an existential crisis. 

You run down to the main door and sign for your delivery: a perfect bouquet of palest pink camellias, wrapped in brown paper. You smile as you inhale their scent, and immediately put them in a vase. 

LYDIA: Thank you for the flowers, love. They’re perfect. And camellias! You really didn’t have to.

BEN: No flowers for my girl on Valentine’s? Who do you think I am?!😉

BEN: (I read an article about how environmentally-unfriendly roses are at this time of year and they suggested camellias. I’m so glad you like them.)

LYDIA: I love them. And I love you.

Before you leave for work, you take one camellia bloom from the vase and cut it slightly shorter. You wrap the stem in moist paper towels, then in plastic wrap, and place it carefully in a ziploc bag to bring to your office.

“Check her out. Fuck, I love her.”

Over coffee, Ani is showing you photos they’ve got from Cass, who received her enormous Fuck Heteronormative Capitalism cookie bright and early that morning. In one, she’s holding up the heart-shaped biscuit triumphantly; in another, she’s snapped it in half with a raging expression; and finally, there’s one of her eating an enormous chunk of it, face slightly smeared with half-melted chocolate chips and frosting. 

“Aww!”

Ani stares at you. “What?”

“I don’t think you’ve ever actually said that in front of me.” You smile gently. “I’m so happy for you two. Looks like Valentine’s really is changing you, huh…”

“You shut the fuck up right now or I will lick that ridiculous cupcake you’ve got.”

They’re pointing aggressively at the college canteen’s special baked offering for the big day, a red velvet cupcake topped with an extraordinary amount of frosting and covered in edible red glitter.

You chuckle and stick a finger in the frosting, picking up a generous amount before popping it in your mouth. “Aha! Touché.” Your phone lights up with an incoming call from Ben, and you swipe to answer with your clean hand.

“Hi, love! You okay? You must be really up against it if you can’t even come for coffee…”

“Uh… yeah. It’s…yeah.”

You get up from your seat, mouthing to Ani that you’ll be back, and move into the hallway. “Ben? What’s wrong?”

He exhales. “They’ve asked for another section to be added to the proposal by tomorrow. I thought I could get it out of the way quickly but then I realised it needed more data and I’m trying to find that and put the details in and it’s just complicated and I dunno it’s not really hanging together and -”

“Ben? Breathe.”

He inhales and exhales slowly. His voice is quiet and hesitant.

“I don’t think I can get it done by five, Lyd. I’m - fuck. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so disappointed in myself, and I’ll try so hard to make this up to you, I promise.”

You lean against the wall as a group of chattering students ambles past. “Darling. There’s nothing to make up to me, nothing at all. We’ll have dinner at the weekend or something, I’ll see you later tonight, it’ll be perfect.” 

He’s silent for a moment, and you can almost feel his disappointment through the phone.

“Ben? Honestly, I don’t mind.”

He sighs. “Okay. I love you very much, you know?” 

“I do. And I love you very much too. I’ll pop by with some coffee later, okay?”

You hang up and rejoin Ani in the staff lounge. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah…” You’re thinking, trying to formulate a plan. “Hey - what are you doing around five this evening?”

The desk light is on in Ben’s office when you call by later that evening, but there’s no sign of him. You peer through the glass panel, and there he is: sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of his desk, printed-out drafts of the various sections of the proposal spread out in front of him and a pot of coloured highlighter markers to hand. 

His tie is loosened, top collar buttons undone, and his brown-framed glasses have fallen forward on his nose. From the looks of things, he’s been running his hands through his hair a lot, curls standing on end and falling this way and that, the light catching the streaks of silver that pepper his dark hair. 

He looks tired, but he breaks into a wide smile when he sees you and pushes himself up to standing as you enter the room. You place the large insulated bag and jute grocery tote you’ve been carrying on a chair and he wraps you in a warm, tight hug. 

“Is it weird that I really needed this hug?” he mumbles into the crown of your head. 

You smile and breathe in his familiar scent: more top notes of coffee today, the spicy undertone of his cologne, the clean smell of his shower gel - your shower gel, actually - and the hints of paper and pencils that seem to be part of his olfactory essence. 

“Not weird at all.” You pull away and look at him, gently caressing the side of his face. “I hope you’re hungry, by the way.”

Ben looks puzzled as you reach for the two bags, unzipping the insulated carrier and flooding the office with the delicious scent of good Italian food. 

“Lyddie, what the fuck is going on?”

You reach into the jute bag and retrieve two plates, two tumblers, some cutlery, and a bottle of red wine, placing them on Ben’s desk. 

“If Ben Morales can’t come to Lino’s, then Lino’s will come to Ben Morales. Okay if I move some of these papers, love?”

He nods, brow furrowed as he tries to make his overworked brain understand. You shift his work materials out of the way and lay out two table settings on one side of the desk. 

“Mixed mushroom fettucine, right?” Ben nods again, and you place the takeaway container on one of the plates. “And the carbonara for me, and some sides of green salad and that gorgeous focaccia they do… Okay! Sit.”

Ben pulls a chair up to the desk and opens the container of pasta, sighing happily at the aroma. You open the wine and pour a small glass each, and are ready to settle down to your own meal when you realise you’ve forgotten something. 

“Shit! Wait. Hold on.” You reach again into the tote bag and pull out two of your vintage candlesticks, cheap finds from thrift stores over the years, as well as a pack of tall white candles and some matches. Their soft light flickers against the walls of books, illuminating the lines and contours of your faces as you share this most idiosyncratic and intimate of Valentine’s dinners. 

Ben raises his glass, and you clink yours off it. “How… how?”

You shrug, twirling some linguine around your fork. “I promised Ani I’d cover for them at the next open day if they drove me over to Lino’s. The guys over there were only too glad to box up the food as a takeout - especially when they heard who it was for.”

Ben sips his wine. “I still don’t know what I did to deserve you. And I still feel bad that our first Valentine’s Day plans were a bust.” 

You reach for his hand, rubbing your thumb over his tattoo. “You deserve everything good because you’re you. Our plans weren’t a bust - we’re still having dinner, aren’t we?” He smiles as he concedes the point. 

“And… first Valentine’s Day, hmmm?” You raise your eyebrows.

Ben looks into your eyes as he turns your hand over to hold it in his broad palm. There’s a voice inside him that wants to tell you straight out, here and now, that he wants this for the rest of his life, the rest of your lives: you, him, an “us”, forever. 

But there’s another, louder voice that tells him it’s still a bit too early for that. He doesn’t want to spook you, or make you think he’s asking for some kind of commitment so soon. 

So he just raises his eyebrows and grins at you. “First of many, I hope?”

His key turns in the door at about 10pm. You pop your head round the door of the living room as he’s walking down his hallway, coat and bag already discarded near the front door. 

“Is it…?”

“It is…done. And sent.” He does a series of air punches as he saunters towards you, and you wave your arms in the air with delight before leaning in for a kiss, taking his hands, and pulling him gently towards the living room.

“So - there are about two hours of Valentine’s Day left. Not that expressing and celebrating love is a one-day affair, of course.”

“Of course!” he nods with exaggerated seriousness, before his expression shifts to one of surprised delight when he sees the candles flickering around his living room, the bright fire that’s burning in the small stove, and the champagne on the table.

The soft light catches his sparkling eyes. “Oh, you’re too cute, Lyddie.”

“But if you’re too tired…”

He pulls you to him and kisses you hard, hands gliding down the silk fabric of the vintage robe you’re wearing and seeking out handfuls of you along the way.

“I will take that as a ‘no, I am not too tired, Lyd’.”

He arches an eyebrow and takes off his glasses, the lenses already a little fogged up. “Definitely not too tired.” He looks you up and down, admiring the loose folds of the printed silk. “That’s a beautiful thing.”

“Picked it up for next to nothing in a second-hand shop years ago.” You preen a little to show it off. “You sure you’re not too tired?” 

He nods solemnly, and you undo the belt of the robe, letting it fall open as you stand in front of him. 

“Oh, my god.” Ben moves close to you, slipping his long fingers under the edge of the robe to reveal the soft flesh of your bare shoulders and the full, plush outline of your naked breasts. “Oh, fuck me.”

“That is indeed the plan, love.”

He pauses and chuckles, then eases the rest of the robe off you and places it on the armchair before exploring the contours and creases and folds of your bare form with his gentle fingertips. His mouth is open a little, as if he’s astonished by the sight of you: illuminated in candlelight. Soft. Warm. Curvy. Inviting.

“You’re the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs. “Let’s go to bed.”

You tilt your head in the direction of the fireplace and the cosy fire burning in the stove. He sees the soft blankets and pillows laid out on the rug in front of the hearth, and he smiles and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. You start to undress him, loosening his tie and helping him out of his shirt and pants. 

He moves as if to take off his undervest and boxer briefs and you still his hands. “Uh… maybe keep the vest. For the moment.”

The light from the stove casts shadows over you, body writhing on the blankets as Ben works another orgasm from you with a quirk of his thick, talented fingers. 

He’s focused his attention on you, on your pleasure, since you’d stretched out together in front of the hearth. “It’s only fair,” he’d whispered, kissing your neck and collarbones, his warm, solid frame resting above you. “Want to show you how much I love you - all of you.”

With his mouth and fingers leading the way, he had taken you on a kind of guided tour of your own body, praising every bit of you as he went. The curve of your hips. The specific shape of your mouth. The softness of your belly. The strength of your thighs. The line of your neck. The velvet weight of your breasts when he holds them in his big hands.

He sucked lightly on your nipples, tracing his thumb over the pebbled skin. “These are spectacular tits, Lyd. Better than I’d ever imagined.”

You’d laughed and wound your fingers through his hair. “Did you often imagine what my tits were like before you actually got to see them, or…”

He groaned in embarrassment, burying his head against your chest. “Maybe a little.” He lifted his face slightly and looked up at you. “I was admiring respectfully. You can’t blame me, they’re fucking amazing.”

He quickly worked his way down your body, running his mouth and tongue over the soft flesh of your middle and settling himself between your thighs before reaching his hand up to part the wet folds of your pussy, sighing happily as he did so. 

“And this is…so beautiful.” 

He trailed two fingers along the wet seam, slipping the tips into your cunt, before they were replaced by his lips and tongue.

One orgasm. Two. And now, what was this - three? 

You whine with need. “Please, baby. Want you now.”

He shifts his body on top of yours and kisses you deeply as you wrap your legs around him, then leans in to whisper in your ear.

“Can I roll you over and take you from behind?”

You kiss him again before shifting onto your front, enjoying the sensation of the soft blankets against your naked breasts and belly. Ben grabs another pillow and places it under your head. His weight on top of you is warm and grounding, the broad span of his shoulders eclipsing yours.

He brings his lips to the back of your neck as he gently slips inside with a long, low moan, feeling the plush flesh of your ass against him as he bottoms out. Even as he starts to move, even as he picks up the pace and fucks you harder, he’s ever the conscientious, considerate lover. Every now and then he leans in to ask if you’re okay, if it feels good for you, to tell you how beautiful you are, and to remind you how much he loves you.

You can tell he’s close, and you know another peak is building in you. You reach up and pull one of the cushions from under your head. 

“Can you pull back just for a second? Wanna lift my hips up and…”

He does as he’s asked and you slip the cushion under your hips, adjusting yourself until you hear him groan with pleasure and you know it’s just the right angle for the two of you. Ben slips a hand under you to cup your breast as he fucks you hard, pulling one final climax from you just as he cries out your name and spills inside you.

He pulls out and reaches to turn you round, bringing your bodies flush together and covering your face with soft kisses as you run your fingers through his damp hair. You drag up one of the blankets to cover your bodies, and you lie there, entwined together exchanging gentle kisses in the glow of the fire.

Disentangled and cleaned up, the two of you nestle together on the couch to drink some champagne: you back in your robe, Ben in a soft old t-shirt and flannel pyjama pants. 

“I’m sorry this isn’t more glamorous, Ben.”

He cuddles you closer. “Best night ever, and it’s all down to you.”

He puts his glass on the side table and reaches beside the couch to retrieve a small gift bag. “Happy Valentine’s, my love. I only wish I could give you everything.”

You smile and shake your head. “I’ve got everything I need.”

The gift bag contains a rectangular jewellery box and what feels like a gift-wrapped book. “I should explain why there’s no card,” Ben says, looking a little anxious. “They were all just a bit… cringey. Is that the word? They just weren’t you. So… the book is a gift but also a card. Kind of. If that makes sense. Does that make sense?”

You kiss him lightly and open the paper to reveal what looks like a mid twentieth-century hardback book, wrapped in a bright blue dust jacket. You laugh when you look at the author’s name and title:

H.E. BATES

LOVE FOR LYDIA

“You know I’ve never actually read this?”

Ben smiles broadly, his eyes crinkling. “Neither have I, but… well. It’s self-explanatory.”

You open the book and read the inscription on the inside. 

To Lyddie, for whom my love would fill countless volumes. B x

Tú

que ayer sólo eras toda la hermosura

eres tambien todo el amor, ahora.

You

who were merely all beauty yesterday

are today all love, as well

J.L. Borges, ‘Sabados’ (1923)

“I know it’s a little bit soppy.”

“Soppy?” You’re wiping away tears with the sleeve of your robe. “Ben, this is - I don’t have words, it’s beautiful. Perfect, in fact.”

“Do you want to open the other one?” He gestures towards the jewellery box, resting on your lap.

“Ohh, baby.” Inside is a fine gold chain with a little gold disc hanging from it, no more than a centimetre and a half in diameter. It’s delicately engraved with your initials, arranged in a sort of cypher design. 

It is elegant, beautiful, and you can’t quite believe that someone would love you enough to even think of a gift like this, let alone give it to you. The inner doubts about whether you ‘deserve’ this kind of love are mostly under control these days, but never too far from the surface.

“It’s so perfect, darling, it’s… It’s…it’s too much, Ben, I don’t -“

“Don’t you dare say you don’t deserve this.” He looks deadly serious. “Do you want to try it on?” 

The gold feels warm against your skin, and you admire the way it reflects the candlelight as you lean in and kiss him before standing up and fetching a gift box that you’d hidden behind the TV. 

“Okay, now it’s your turn, Benjamin.” He takes the gift box and carefully takes off the lid to reveal something neatly wrapped in tissue paper underneath. 

You settle back beside him on the couch. “I really hope you like this, and that you don’t think it’s inappropriate. But - tell me if it is, okay?” 

He nods, a slightly suspicious look in his eyes, and begins to fold back the layers of tissue paper to reveal a crisp, white cotton poplin shirt with a camp-style collar decorated with red embroidery. His initial uncertainty rapidly gives way to recognition as he lifts the shirt out of the box.

A little while ago, not long after you had officially got together, you had been chatting one evening about the family photographs on display in his living room. Your gaze had settled again on the photo of his father as a young man, so uncannily similar to his son. 

“Other than the hair and the fact that your eyes are exactly the same as your mother’s, you’re a carbon copy of him. You just need a similar shirt and you could recreate the image.”

Ben had picked up the photo so you could look at it in more detail together. “He had this shirt for years. It’s a traditional style, but they come in all sorts of variations. His was gorgeous, though - that embroidery was like a dark red, I think. I loved it when I was a kid and he wore it, he just looked so cool.” He’d smiled warmly at the image of Diego Morales, captured forever in his youthful prime. “Fuck, I miss him so much.”

You leaned in and cuddled him. “Do you have one? Of the shirts, I mean”, you’d asked, and Ben had shook his head. 

“Never found one that was as nice as Dad’s.” 

It is a relatively simple design - short sleeved, button-up, with four pockets, two on each side - but you have added embroidered details to each of the pockets, to match the collar. The shirt itself was an easy enough job - after doing your research on the exact style and its history, you’d made it one Saturday when Ben was doing an open day at the college and you could lock yourself away in your apartment. The embroidery had been more challenging, especially as you were trying to approximate what you could make out of the pattern on Diego’s shirt. 

Like Ben, you were unable to find a Valentine’s card that didn’t make you want to vomit. So you have, instead, stitched a tiny message along the fabric facing just inside the collar - his initials, your initials, and the year.

Every stitch and every seam was, in its own way, a tangible expression of how much he meant to you.

Ben is silent as he looks at the shirt, taking in the details. He runs his fingers along the hand embroidery and feels the small pearl buttons. You worry that this might actually be too much - too intimate a gift for so early in a relationship, too close to the grief he felt for his father - and that you have got this horribly, desperately wrong.

“B-Ben?”

He turns slowly to you, tears in his eyes, the shirt still in his hands. 

“I’m sorry, Ben, I just -“

He places the shirt back in the box and pulls you close to him. He struggles to get the words out. “Thank you. Thank you, Lyd, this is - wow.” He looks at the shirt again and bites his lip. “It’s the most beautiful gift I think I’ve ever been given.”

He notices the tiny lettering inside the collar. “Oh, fuck me. You made this?!”

You bury your head against him, mumbling into his chest. “Yes is that weird oh god is it weird?”

He laughs and wraps an arm around you. “How could you making me a version of my dad’s guayabera be weird? It’s… fuck. I love it. And I love you. So fucking much.”

“I’m so glad you like it, darling.”

His gaze is earnest as he reaches for your hand. “It means the world to me. You mean the world to me.” 

You take the box and place it on the coffee table so that you can cuddle in against his broad, warm chest, bringing an arm around his middle as he enfolds you in his strong, safe embrace.

You mean the world to him. He means the world to you. Isn’t that all that matters?

The countdown to the hard decisions might be rapidly running out, but for tonight, at least, they could wait. You close your eyes and focus on the reassuring rhythm of Ben’s heartbeat. 

(bookshelf divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more; other dividers by @cafekitsune)

Further A/N:

The song Lydia sings a line of to Ben after their morning exertions is 'Just A Little Lovin'', by Dusty Springfield.

The shirt Ben's dad is wearing, and that Lydia recreates for Ben as his Valentine's gift, is inspired by the traditional guayabera summer shirt that is thought to have originated in either Mexico or Cuba, but is worn throughout Central and parts of South America in the summer months.

[mamadoc]

1, 2, 11, 20😊

1 - Talk about someone who changed your life.

Okay. I took far too long to think about this. Since we're all in a post 6x6 and TTPD era, here's a vulnerable, tortured answer.

I had a very close friend for several years. My husband and I were very close to her and her husband. Our kids were friends. We went to the same church, all loved to travel, had similar interests and tastes, had all lived internationally, went on double dates, etc. We even considered having them raise our kids if my husband and I both passed away. In sum, we were super close.

Then COVID hit. As a doctor COVID was difficult. I struggled a lot because I was taking care of sick patients. I recall one tearful day of talking to a pregnant mom who was about to be transferred to the ICU and was saying goodbye to her other children. It really wasn't safe or comfortable to go to work for a long time. I wasn't really dealing with it well, especially with the people around me treating it like it didn't matter. I was really depressed for the first time in my life.

This friend didn't understand that or if she did, she didn't care. So, when I said I wasn't interested in going out in public and having any type of birthday celebration for my birthday (who wants to celebrate turning 41 anyway?), she started attacking me on a personal level. I was already in a dark place and instead of being a good friend and supporting me, she just keep sending me hateful messages.

That was the first and only time in my life I considered suicide. I reached out for help and got it. I wasn't in that dark pit for a long time. I'm much better now. I mostly have my sister to thank for that.

I brought her flowers for Valentine's Day with an apology note a few weeks after that. She never apologized. I brought treats to her a few weeks after that with an apology note explaining why I felt so hurt. I tried to call to explain how I felt so that I could heal. She never answered the phone.

I'm still not sure what I have to apologize for or why she never seemed to accept or offer an apology. But that was two years ago. We still don't talk. Our husbands don't talk. Our kids don't play together anymore. For a long time, I didn't like going to church because I knew I'd have to see her.

Most of that is better now. I'm just sad for a lost friendship and for the dark place I had to crawl out of.

I've used a slight modification of her name for a character in one of my stories who betrayed Lucy. I thought that might be therapeutic, but it just brought the situation up to the surface again.

Uhhh... I can't believe I just wrote all of that. I'll try to keep the rest of the answers a bit lighter.

2 - Talk about something you really want to do.

I LOVE to travel. I've been to 47 states and 16 countries. My husband and I had all of our plans in place to get to all 50 states before we turned 40. Then COVID hit and all of our plans were dashed when travel shut down. We're going at a slower pace now, but we're getting close to it. #48 (NM) in October, #49 (HI) July 2025 as a 20th anniversary trip, and #50 (AK) the summer of 2026.

11 - Share something you're proud of.

According to AO3's stats, I've posted over 339k words since I started posting 7 months ago (plus another 9-10k chapter I hope to finish tonight). I know there are those that blow me out of the water (Ahem, ahem @girlintotv and @centralperkchenford) with their numbers, but I'm pretty proud of that as a first-time writer and working mom with 4 young kids.

20 - Share with us a random fact or two.

I'm afraid I've already overshared. *yikes* But here we go.

I'm the oldest of 6 kids. The first 4 of us are all 23 months apart, then 27 months apart, and 25 months apart. So, we're essentially every 2 years for 10 years with all of our birthdays clustered together. 3 boys and 3 girls.

I had the chicken pox for my eighth birthday. My grandparents came to visit for my birthday, but they were afraid of getting shingles. So, I had to stay in my bedroom on the second floor, and they stayed on the first floor for the whole time they were visiting. I still remember standing in the hallway near the dining room while they sang happy birthday. One of my siblings blew out the candles for me and my mom brought me a piece of cake in the hallway. (Man, I'm still rocking those depressing TTPD vibes, aren't I?) I was officially not contagious the day my mom came home from the hospital with baby #5 in our family, and I remember being so excited to be healthy enough to hold my baby brother.

Sheesh. Now you probably won't ever ask me anything again. Between TTPD, 6x6, and the angst I'm supposed to be writing right now, I'm coming up with some strange answers.

Sorry to be the Eeyore in the crowd. Thanks for asking me to play though.

Ask game

[cowboyjen68]

Hi Jen! I recently turned 30 and have never been in a relationship

In highschool and university I was more focused on school and extracurricular activities, and relationships didn't interest me all that much. Looking back I think it was because I didn't realize I was a lesbian, and the idea of dating boys didn't seem appealing. And maybe others saw that, as I was never asked out (by any gender), and to my knowledge, no one ever took interest in me.

In my early-20s I became interested in dating once I figured out my sexuality, and tried a few dating apps and meeting new people. But nothing really came from it. I have zero experience in dating and flirting, and I have no idea what it's like to be romanced or flirted with. Just like in highschool and university, no one had ever asked me out or seem genuinely interested in me. The older I get and the more Valentine's day I see passing by as a single person, the less hopeful I feel.

It sounds silly and stupid, but I feel like I'm unlovable. Can't see a future where someone falls in love with me, and vice versa; it's so easy to just give up the hope that this loneliness will end.

I don't know what I'm asking for here - reassurance that I'm not alone in this? reassurance that I will be OK being alone? Are there others who went through similar situations and found happiness?

On a different topic: where did you get your rainbow frog necklace? I study frogs and have tried looking for that necklace everywhere.

Thank you so much!

The only dating I did in high school was with one boy whom I met at a campground one summer. He was perfect because I was not interested but also wanted to look like I liked boys. He lived about 40 minutes away and was a farm kid so our time together was very limited. It saved me from having to constantly make up excuses like “I am sick” or “I can’t kiss because I have a cold sore starting”. Any time we were together I ducked and dodged his advances and he was a gentleman about it, never pushing my boundaries. 

In college I finally admitted I liked women but was nowhere near confident enough to come out. I dated one boy, on one date and never was asked again, by man or woman which was disheartening on some level BUT also a relief because I was having fun with my friends (who were all dating off and on) and was not ready for any sort of relationship. I definitely didn’t want a boy asking me and girls scared the hell out of me. I have been told by many of my older lesbian (and some younger) friends that being intimidated by women, especially those we find attractive or interesting, is normal and expected for many of us. 

Lesbians are often way behind in dating etiquette and practice simply because we often don’t date in high school or college (at least not anyone we want to). We wait until young adulthood and independence to wade into the dating pool. Lacking dating or relationship experience seems more prevalent the older we are. But I have noticed some of the “in the middle” lesbians (30 to 40ish)  are really struggling with finding each other, dating and feeling confident enough to ask others out. It seems a fair amount of my friends find themselves single after a long relationship (often their first serious one) in that age bracket OR are just now coming out as “late in life lesbian” and have no idea how to even get started. 

I would say you are in good company no matter the reasons you haven’t been in a relationship. You could be dealing with any number of obstacles but the good news is you can handle them. You might be a bit intimidating, either from your stature or your confidence. You might be just limited in the amount of women you are exposed to therefore your dating pool is a bit stifled. Or you maybe just haven’t had the luck of meeting someone who was the right person at the right time. 

As per usual I would suggest getting to lesbian/women events. Try women’s festivals or local concerts featuring women singers or entertainers. These events will attract a wide array of lesbians and bi women and at least you could meet some more like minded women.  Just ask. If you see a woman at the gay bar or at a non profit fundraiser or at a concert, say hello and introduce yourself. At worst they aren’t interested and you have lost nothing but a minute. You might not end up on a date but you could make a new friend. 

The beauty of women’s festivals is that almost everyone there is lesbian or bi (not all but for once we are in the majority). AND it is perfectly acceptable to meet and make friends and the more you expand your friend circle the better for you. Many women meet compatible partners through other friends. 

Dating apps are an option. I can’t speak for them because I have not used one but I hear they are loaded with people looking for one night stands etc, which does not seem like what you are looking for at this stage in your life. So while they are an easy way to meet others looking to date you might have to wade through a lot of muck to find someone worthy of your time and energy.

It never hurts to ask friends to keep their eyes open. They might assume you are happily single and therefore don’t say anything but you never know who they know. You can do this and you will be fine. It just might take a little work putting yourself out there on social media, dating apps and at events. 

The necklace was made for me by my friend Weird Dan who was an artist and leathersmith. IT had to be reconditioned with new leather and some repair on the beads over covid. My girlfriend at the time found this little frog charm so when the repair was done I had it placed in the center. I have not taken it off for years except for the repairs. You can google “frog charm” or “antique silver frog charm pendant”  and some will come up. It is nothing expensive but I love it all the more because of who gave it to me. 

Remember  You deserve someone who has mutual passion and love for you. Don’t rush, don’t settle and be honest with yourself and you will be okay.

[nerdierholler]

Happy Valentine’s Day, lovely person 🌹

Your kind words on the things you reblog mean a lot <3 And I always look forward to reading your writing whenever you share something, there's something about the way you capture daily life moments that's so good. (Also: love love the animal facts you share!)

Here’s a romance-themed OC question for any OC(s) of your choosing (no pressure to answer on Valentine’s day itself, or at all):

What combination of random objects would your OC use to describe their LI? What do they represent? Bonus question: What would their LI use to describe them?

Thank you so so much for all of these wonderful words <3 Sorry this took me so long to answer. The week go away from me but I've finally gotten a good afternoon to answer. I'm gonna answer for Ethan and Adam and it kind of turned into a ficlet about just one object.

It doesn't come as a surprise to Ethan that no matter where he looks around Wayhaven, he finds things that remind him of Adam. What does surprise him are the things that catch his attention. Logic says every gray t-shirt or pair of sunglasses would be the likely culprits but instead today it's passing by an old building made from simply but solidly hand carved stone blocks. From a distance the lines seem perfectly straight, ordered row after ordered row forming an unmovable wall. It's only when one gets close that they can see the undulations in the joints, the individual chisel marks that make each block unique. For how many centuries did people pass their skill down from one to another? It's entirely possible that the man who made the blocks in Wayhaven would have used the same techniques as the man who built the keep that Adam grew up in.

Stone is a strong durable material. It's heavy and difficult for most to move or change, but in the right hands it can be made useful and accessible. The truly talented artists can turn the hard surface into soft pliable flesh, or at least the illusion of it. Stone cannot stop being a stone after all.

As Ethan passes by he reaches out and absently runs the tips of his fingers along the building's wall. It's solid and cool to the touch but he can feel every bump and pit created by years of wear and tear. They are imperfections that make it perfect. Poured concrete and blocks cut with modern saws create smooth surfaces that lack personality. They're missing the mark of their makers. Ethan can only hope that over time, he'll be able to leave his mark on Adam, and if he's very lucky he'll be able to carve out niche just the right size for them to fit together.

More random things under the cut

Other things that randomly make Ethan think of Adam:

Wine: It's because Adam drinks his blood from a wine glass so every time Ethan sees a bottle or pours himself a glass, he can't help but think of Adam and their different potential paths. He tries not to space out too much at the store lol

The smell of leather: Of course the Agency has the best SUVs, leather seats and everything, but really it's the well maintained leather from Adam's car the comes to mind when Ethan smells it. The antique store is dangerous. Heck, even that one nice chair in the waiting room can be a problem.

For Adam:

Sunny breezy days because they remind him of Ethan's personality.

Any classic film star. Nate watches old movies from time to time and there's something about that old Hollywood leading man style that makes him think of Ethan. Should Ethan ever decide to wear a 40s or 50s style suit Adam might just swoon. Now I'm having thoughts about a not-a-date night where the little theater in Wayhaven does a classic movie night and Ethan and Adam go together. Adam just looks like he's in pain the whole time so Ethan thinks he's have a terrible evening when in reality Adam's trying to hold himself together and not think all of *those* thoughts.

[this-geek]

Hello hello hello! For the weird writing questions: numbers 7, 35 and 40! :)

Hey hey, these are so fun. Thank you for asking them!

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

Representation. That someone could see themselves in my writing, my words and feel joy.

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

I guess the new speaker new line rule. Sometimes it's nice for an action tag to come before rather than after all the time.

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

OK, I'm guessing this means an existing poem because my own poetry is...lacking. I have several favourite poets and you would be correct in assuming they are Scottish. I couldn't decide my favourite so have multiple.

Valentine by Carol Ann Duffy

Not a red rose or a satin heart.

I give you an onion.

It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.

It promises light

like the careful undressing of love.

Here.

It will blind you with tears

like a lover.

It will make your reflection

a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or a kissogram.

I give you an onion.

Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,

possessive and faithful

as we are,

for as long as we are.

Take it.

Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding ring,

if you like.

Lethal.

Its scent will cling to your fingers,

cling to your knife.

Also try: Eurydice, I laugh every time I read this one

Lucozade by Jackie Kay

My mum is on a high bed next to sad chrysanthemums.

‘Don't bring flowers, they only wilt and die.'

I am scared my mum is going to die

on the bed next to the sad chrysanthemums.

She nods off and her eyes go back in her head.

Next to her bed is a bottle of Lucozade.

‘Orange nostalgia, that's what that is,' she says.

‘Don't bring Lucozade either,' then fades.

‘The whole day was a blur, a swarm of eyes.

Those doctors with their white lies.

Did you think you could cheer me up with a Woman's Own?

Don't bring magazines, too much about size.'

My mum wakes up, groggy and low.

‘What I want to know,' she says,' is this:

where's the big brandy, the generous gin, the Bloody Mary,

the biscuit tin, the chocolate gingers, the dirty big meringue?'

I am sixteen; I've never tasted a Bloody Mary.

‘Tell your father to bring a luxury,' says she.

‘Grapes have no imagination, they're just green.

Tell him: stop the neighbours coming.'

I clear her cupboard in Ward 10B, Stobhill Hospital.

I leave, bags full, Lucozade, grapes, oranges,

sad chrysanthemums under my arms,

weighted down. I turn round, wave with her flowers.

My mother, on her high hospital bed, waves back.

Her face is light and radiant, dandelion hours.

Her sheets billow and whirl. She is beautiful.

Next to her the empty table is divine.

I carry the orange nostalgia home singing an old song.

Also: Divorce

Nae Hair Ont by Robert 'Rabbie' Burns

Yestreen I wed a lady fair,

And ye wad believe me,

On her cunt there grows nae hair,

That's the thing that grieves me.

It vexed me sair, it plagu'd me sair,

It put me in a passion,

To think that I had wad a wife,

Whase cunt was out o' fashion.

Also: this guy is very important we literally have a day dedicated to him 25th January every year.

[flowercrown-bard]

thank you for the tag, @lokibus💕

Name: Riya (i also went by Valentine for a while with some friends and i really like that name but no one calls me that anymore)

Sign: taurus

Time: 20:46

Last movie: uhh good question. I started watching Pride and Prejudice (2005) yesterday and got distracted after 5 min by remembering that apparently jeans were worn in that time period already and then i had to google some stuff. The last movie i remember watching in full was Barbie at the cinema where i can't just gez distracted and turn the movie off lmao

Last show: season 2 of atla but in a language i don't speak bc that was the only version i found on YouTube (I own the dvds but i dont have a way to use them with my laptop)

When I created this blog: idk. I think the year before Covid? Or maybe shortly before it? What even is time

Other blogs: i got two. One i only used for a secret santa thingy so i won't reveal it in case i need a secret santa blog again. And then there is @brotfrevel. I created that blog when i was very deep into my ed and not comfortable with talking about it where people i know irl might see. I had this little project where each day that i resisted my i healthy habits, i added one element to an embroidery project (I'm happy to announce that I got much much better and the result of this silly little project is now a constanz reminder of that on my wall)

Do I get asks/may you ask me something: i love getting asks! (I've just been really inactive lately so if i didn't answer, I'm sorry. I've literally not been on tumblr for more thwn like five minutes in the last month or so)

Average hours of sleep: something between 5-7 hours i think. I tend to wake up at 1:30 am and then I'm unable to fall back asleep for a while and then i wake up again at around 3:40. So no idea how much sleep i actually get

Instruments: singing, guitar and violin. And technically i have my grandpa's old mandolin and know enough chords to play a couple of songs but the stings haven't been replaced in over 40 years and it's horribly out of tune so i don't play

What I’m wearing: yellow turtleneck sweater (an old one from my sister), an ugly but super comfy jacket (i think it's an old one from my other sister), jeans, pink socks with bees and I'm also gonna count the comfy blanket I'm wrapped into

Dream job: i meany I'd love to publish a book one day and have at least one person buy it but that's pretty unrealistic. So I'll go with being a kindergarten teacher

Tagging (no pressure): @combatbootsfemme @parttime-creative @dhwty-writes @mondglocke @lycanbucky @rebard-main

[artemisianmusings]

Update on Wallace Harrison

I have made a lot of progress over the last several days and am SO excited to share what I've found so far. After scouring quite literally thousands of records on ancestry.com and newpaper archives, this is what I've managed to learn so far:

Wallace was born in June 1900 in Preston, Lanchashire, and moved to Auckland, NZ when he was around 11.

I did also find his parents and grandfather's names and it turns out he was named after his paternal grandfather!

He lived in California for a while, starting in the 20's.

There, he met Caroline (Carol) Wurtenberger and they got married in 1929.

They lived there until the 40s when they ended up in New York until the 50's. Carol was an art teacher/art professor in both places they lived; Wallace's occupation was listed as "painter" "commercial painter" and "unemployed" through the years.

In 1933, Wallace was shown in an exhibition at the Valentine Gallery. The exhibition catalogue for his pieces was written by writer and friend of his, Maurice Sachs.

A review of this show in the New York Times praises his works and states that the influence of both Matisse and Picasso are evident in his work.

At some point in the 40s, he taught both Helen Frankenthaler and Charlotte Park. Possibly in conjunction with Cooper Union University, though I'm still trying to confirm.

Him and Carol took a trip to England in 1930

In 1954, he left America and headed off for France, arriving in a port in Cannes.

In '56, he left France and moved to Spain. He lived there until his death in 1980 in Palma.

This little project of mine is FAR from over, there's still a million questions plaguing me (who the fuck is henriette!!), but I'm ecstatic that I've been able to even get this much. And there's even bits that aren't super important that I'm leaving out, such as where Carol was from, where she worked, her family, etc. It's very exciting and it really does feel awesome that like this has actually panned out and my efforts have results instead of it being a complete dead end like i was beginning to think.

[branwyn-says]

For the last two years I've been marking the passage of time with an embroidery calendar. I try to come up with images that represent the dominant event or experience or mood of the month, so I can easily look back and remember the whole year---not every miserable detail, but at least one beautiful thing per month that was more important than the petty and less petty anxieties that generally bedevil my existence.

January - Snowflakes. It snowed a lot in Baltimore last January. I turned 40 and had some panic attacks, which were soothed by looking at the snow.

February - Babette's Feast. Mine and my girlfriend's anniversary is Valentines Day. Emulating Babette, the chef from my favorite movie, I made a formal 7 course French dinner for us both.

March - Lady Bigfoot. My girlfriend's nickname is Bigfoot and March is her birthday month.

April and May - Flower Person Emerging from Flowers. In the spring I watched a ton of painting and drawing tutorials on youtube to level up my embroidery design, which was when I came up with the Flower People, as pictured in that van Gogh embroidery I posted awhile back.

June - Beach. I joined my girlfriend's family on their annual beach vacation for the first time.

July - the USS Enterprise. I watched anton of Trek and wrote most of Ship's Night that month.

August - Mina. I thought my beloved cat was really sick for about a week. She was okay, but I needed to make art to help me process. I'm very proud of this piece, the likeness to Mina is really good.

September - Ikea Goat. I spent a week in New Jersey helping my gf settle in to her new place and she fell in love with an embroidered goat cushion.

October - Pink string lights garlanding a window. Just as I finished decorating for Halloween our landlord started pulling shenanigans and we thought we would have to move before the end of the year. The teen and I comforted ourselves by clinging even harder to the beautiful cozy space we'd created to welcome fall.

November - Basket weave with ribbon. I saw my parents for the first time in many years and a lot of reconciliation happened. My mom gave me a bunch of her basket collection and I in turn passed some of them onto my girlfriend's mom and aunts.

December- Babette's Fancy Diner neon sign at night in the snow. I started a Substack newsletter after years of intention and months of planning.

[mostbelovednjpwtournament]

Most Beloved WWE Wrestler Tournament: Round 3 Statistics Dump

Followers: 260

Total Votes: 22,087 + 13,398 + 8,109 = 43,594

Number of times I caused tumblr drama over this tournament: 0, but I really got close

Beloved By Gender:

After Round 2, we were at a split of ~31/69 for female and male wrestlers. In a shocking turn of events, after Round 3, for the first time in the history of any of my tournaments, the male percentage has gone up by over an entire percent

Voting Trends:

Round 3 had a low vote count day of 456 and the highest count day of 630, making the average 550.8 votes per day (discounting final day cause there were only 6 brackets), almost an extra hundred votes per day beyond Round 2's average of 462

(Also I'm still super proud of my datelines, btw)

The 100%ers:

In the entirety of Round 3, there was only one wrestler who got a perfect score, which was Naomi with the full 59 votes in her favor

Public Opinion:

More and more famous favourites are being voted out every round

Sports Illustrated’s 101 Best Wrestlers Of All Time (2016)

Ric Flair (18, lose)

Shawn Michaels (53 + 57 + 71, win)

Steve Austin (29 + 18, lose)

The Rock (23, lose)

The Undertaker (53 + 55 + 45, win)

Dusty Rhodes (46 + 42 + 43, win)

John Cena (47 + 51 + 50, win)

Hulk Hogan (10, lose)

Sting (51 + 53 + 61, win)

Andre The Giant (56 + 38 + 38, win)

Randy Savage (37 + 32 + 42, win)

Roddy Piper (54 + 33 + 53, win)

Chris Jericho (27 + 31 + 32, win)

Harley Race (17 + 18 + 10, lose)

Mick Foley (58 + 47 + 57, win)

Bret Hart (52 + 59 + 61, win)

Randy Orton (58 + 48 + 49, win)

Kurt Angle (45 + 36 + 37, win)

Antonio Inoki (28 + 38 + 23, lose)

Ricky Steamboat (28 + 47 + 16, lose)

Daniel Bryan (61 + 51 + 48, win)

Triple H (31 + 12, lose)

Buddy Rogers (21 + 17 + 8, lose)

Edge (41 + 49 + 44, win)

Bob Backlund (26 + 22 + 11, lose)

Brock Lesnar (23, lose)

Stan Hansen (22, lose)

Bruno Sammartino (30 + 6, lose)

CM Punk (57 + 40, lose)

Ted DiBiase (27 + 26 + 27, win)

Bruiser Brody (33 + 31 + 22, win)

Hideo Itami (34 + 35 + 7, lose)

Rey Mysterio (48 + 40 + 42, win)

Vader (32 + 17, lose)

Dory Funk Jr (17 + 17, lose)

Mr Perfect (37 + 25 + 28, win)

Eddie Guerrero (53 + 43 + 47, win)

Jake Roberts (32 + 29 + 31, win)

Arn Anderson (25 + 30 + 15, lose)

The Sheik (31 + 30 + 11, lose)

AJ Styles (40 + 46 + 46, win)

Goldust (70 + 34 + 49, win)

Samoa Joe (61 + 84 + 60, win)

Terry Funk (27 + 37 + 32, win)

Verne Gagne (14, lose)

Mil Mascaras (10, lose)

Rob Van Dam (43 + 45 + 50, win)

Tatsumi Fujinami (25, lose)

Rick Rude (35 + 29 + 10, lose)

Owen Hart (56 + 41 + 53, win)

Jeff Hardy (52 + 32, lose)

Goldberg (23 + 22, lose)

Ivan Koloff (15, lose)

Chris Benoit (17, lose)

Larry Zbyszko (4, lose)

Ultimo Dragon (9, lose)

Scott Hall (44 + 40 + 44, win)

Trish Stratus (38 + 42 + 22, lose)

Dean Malenko (37 + 29 + 19, lose)

Ultimate Warrior (28 + 20, lose)

Fabulous Moolah (18, lose)

William Regal (62 + 45 + 50, win)

Gene Kiniski (14, lose)

Scott Steiner (44, lose)

Rick Steiner (26 + 9, lose)

Chyna (68 + 49 + 52, win)

Seth Rollins (55 + 54 + 66, win)

Kane (40 + 29 + 33, win)

Jimmy Snuka (9, lose)

Davey Boy Smith (22 + 24 + 33, win)

The Iron Sheik (49 + 40 + 32, win)

Pedro Morales (20 + 9, lose)

Michael Hayes (10, lose)

Johnny Valentine (14 + 4, lose)

Shinsuke Nakamura (58 + 60 + 58, win)

Diesel (39 + 35 + 34, win)

Batista (53 + 54 +35, win)

Lita (46 + 65 + 37, win)

Christian (56 + 47 + 67, win)

Ron Simmons (25 + 33 + 31, win)

Big Show (41 + 60 + 38, win)

JBL (10, lose)

Christopher Daniels (26 + 10, lose)

The Miz (34 + 30 + 39, win)

PWI Wrestler Of The Year

Pedro Morales (20 + 9, lose)

Jack Brisco (17 + 13, lose)

Bruno Sammartino (30 + 6, lose)

Terry Funk (27 + 37 + 32, win)

Dusty Rhodes (46 + 42 + 43, win)

Harley Race (17 + 18 + 10, lose)

Bob Backlund (26 + 22 + 11, lose)

Ric Flair (18, lose)

Hulk Hogan (10, lose)

Randy Savage (37 + 32 + 42, win)

Sting (51 + 53 + 61, win)

Vader (32 + 17, lose)

Diesel (39 + 35 + 34, win)

Big Show (41 + 39 + 38, win)

Lex Luger (25 + 4, lose)

Steve Austin (29 + 18, lose)

The Rock (23, lose)

Brock Lesnar (23, lose)

Kurt Angle (45 + 36 + 37, win)

Chris Benoit (17, lose)

Batista (52 + 54 + 35, win)

John Cena (47 + 51 + 50, win)

Triple H (31 + 12, lose)

Randy Orton (58 + 48 + 49, win)

CM Punk (57 + 40, lose)

Daniel Bryan (61 + 51 + 48, win)

Seth Rollins (55 + 54 + 66, win)

AJ Styles (40 + 46 + 46, win)

Adam Cole (47 + 40 + 53, win)

Dean Ambrose (58 + 54 + 42, win)

Roman Reigns (51 + 64 + 59, win)

PWI Woman Of The Year

Joyce Grable (30 + 24 + 0, lose)

Susan Green (21 + 27 + 11, lose)

Stephanie McMahon (26 + 4, lose)

Lita (46 + 65 + 37, win)

Trish Stratus (38 + 42 + 22, lose)

Victoria (27 + 23 + 17, lose)

Candice Michelle (24 + 39 + 13, lose)

Mickie James (47 + 46 + 47, win)

Michelle McCool (29 + 10, lose)

AJ Lee (48 + 46 + 39, win)

Sasha Banks (44 + 47 + 42, win)

Charlotte Flair (45 + 42 + 27, win)

Asuka (58 + 60 + 65, win)

Becky Lynch (58 + 53 + 58, win)

Bianca Belair (34 + 66 + 54, win)

Top 10 Voted Wrestlers Who've Already Been Eliminated:

Big E (156 - round 3)

Neville (111 - round 3)

Natalya/Trish Stratus (102 - round 3)

Baron Corbin (101 - round 3)

Tyler Breeze/Elias (100 - round 3)

Raquel Rodriguez (99 - round 3)

CM Punk (97 - round 2)

Paul Heyman/Dominik Mysterio (96 - round 3/2)

Umaga (95 - round 3)

Ricochet/Santino Marella (94 - round 3)

Top 10 Voted In Round 3:

Damian Priest (76)

Shawn Michaels (71)

Sami Zayn (70)

Cody Rhodes (69)

Jey Uso (68)

Christian (67)

Seth Rollins (66)

Kevin Owens/LA Knight/Asuka (65)

Bayley (64)

Sting/Bret Hart/Finn Balor (61)

Top 10 Voted Overall:

Naomi (282)

Billy Gunn (232)

Damian Priest (226)

Samoa Joe (205)

Sami Zayn (200)

Rhea Ripley (193)

Jey Uso (191)

Asuka (183)

R-Truth (182)

Shawn Michaels (181)

A big thanks to everyone who's voted so far! By my calculations, this tournament will be ending before the end of the month, so only a few weeks left to show your love for your favourites.

In the meantime, if there are any other statistics you'd like to see based on the data I've been keeping track of, send me an ask and I'll include them in the statistics dumps

Since we'll be getting into shorter rounds, Round 4 is going to start today, hopefully within the hour, so keep an eye out!

[kitxkatrp]

I'm having a meltdown and need to rant. I'm sorry if this upsets anybody, so I'll be putting it under the cut.

So I'm having issues with not being able to handle my mood swings again, for one. A bunch of things keep happening and its making me feel like I want to fucking die again and because its bipolar moodswing I can do nothing but ride it out because nothing I've learned and no medicine can help me stop an episode when it fucking starts.

So not only did I have to emergency buy another computer (which I had to borrow MONEY to pay for), but i got it and it barely works. But because I couldn't afford the warranty, I'm now out 400 dollars.

AND

I'm getting bit in bed again, which means my neighbors have given me bedbugs, AGAIN. If you weren't here for the first three or four times, this is the like fifth time in the span of a single year and they refuse to treat your apartment unless you can actually catch one, but refuse to do a proper inspection. They walk in, lift up your sheets, and say "there's no bedbugs. You're obviously just wrong and it's fleas from your pet" and then leave. They don't check cracks, crevices, and all other spots that bedbugs live. Also one fell out of my bathroom vent, so I'd bet anything thats where the fuckers are coming from. They refused to treat my apartment before for over a month until I caught a live bedbug, walked into their office, and slammed it down on their fucking desk and said "tell me its my cat and fleas again. I dare you."

Also I am excruciatingly allergic to bedbug bites, so they swell up and get all nasty and sometimes infected. They itch so maddeningly bad that you have to constantly put cream on them. I am almost out of cream.

Also I paid all the money I had yesterday for fucking groceries, only to realize today that I am low on garbage bags and I'll have to borrow even MORE money from my partners this month to just make it to the next month.

Comcast doubled my bill and refused to lower it.

My disability got raised, but because of it, they docked my food stamps again so I'm essentially just as fucked as before.

I couldn't afford valentines gifts for either of my partners or a birthday gift for scottie so I feel like a terrible partner.

I am having moments of hearing voices again which happens when I am so physically and mentally stressed that my bipolar is unable to cope.

I am almost out of allergy medication. I could not afford it this month. It's almost 30 bucks for a pack that lasts a month. It is the only thing that works and I can't even take it every day cause then it stops working. I am allergic to dust mites (the things that live in your bedding), and my own cat, which did not develop until after I got my cat. When I lay down, half the time I start having an allergy attack from my own sheets.

I could not afford to get my back cracked this month so I get to be in : ) a fantastic amount of pain because it costs me 40 dollars per crack and that is with my disability discount because medicare doesn't give a shit about me or you.

I finally broke down today and called and asked to be put on the waitlist for the other apartments that have less bedbug issues, but got rushed off the phone and hung up on by the secretary before I could ask any questions about the pricing differences or anything. And because I can't guarantee that they won't come inspect my apartment or come harass me to ask me why I want to switch (remember kids, low income landlords are not your friend and will harass and threaten to put you on the street at every possible turn), I just had to speed clean my apartment which caused me a ridiculous amount of pain.

My back hurts, my ankles hurt, I can't stop crying and I just want to die right now. I'll probably be okay in a few hours, but fuck man I'm tired.

[perdidosbucky-yyo]

I posted 2,819 times in 2022

That's 2,022 more posts than 2021!

556 posts created (20%)

2,263 posts reblogged (80%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@foreverindreamlandd

@kinanabinks

@buckycuddlebuddy

@treatbuckywkisses

@sweetascanbee

I tagged 1,368 of my posts in 2022

#digging up carrot's veggies 🥕 - 382 posts

#carrot's fic recs - 232 posts

#carrot and her fraaans - 93 posts

#carrot's corazón❣️ - 53 posts

#sebastian stan - 53 posts

#carrot's harvest - 52 posts

#carrot bong - 29 posts

#instagram - 26 posts

#spotify - 22 posts

#fruit basket - 22 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#like it's so hard and it's weird bc i don't have this big tragedy on my shoulders i'm just a middle class young woman with a lot of issues

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

THE WAY I SCREAMED 👁️👄👁️

The things he says... That's gotta be on purpose right???? HE KNOWS THE POWER HE HOLDS

279 notes - Posted August 3, 2022

#4

Happy Birthday Sergeant

Drabble

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky hates celebrating his birthday, that is until you forgot about it

Warnings: mention of a blowjob, lil bit of sadness, fluff but it's not that fluffy??

Wc: 1k

a/n: Today is TLOML's birthday and words cannot express just how special he is to me, Bucky Barnes deserves everything good in this life and I'm gonna give it to him <3, anyways, happy reading!

See the full post

291 notes - Posted March 10, 2022

#3

L.O.V.E

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Plus size!Fem!Reader (no mention of ethnicity)

Summary: Bucky wants to offer you more than love

Warnings: underage drinking (reader is 20), a little low self esteem, self image issues, smutty (foreplay, implied oral and smut), tiny amount of angst, shitty father (not the reader’s), mention of a gun.

Wc: 4k

a/n: a little late buuut, Happy valentines everyone! I have very mixed feelings about this one lol, also,this was supossed to be pure fluff lmao, oh well… I hope you enjoy <3 And I would like to specify that the reader had a tough time figuring out what she wanted to do after high school so that’s why she JUST applied for collage (it’s ok to not know what you want for your life, there’s no rush, you get to choose your own path).

See the full post

352 notes - Posted February 16, 2022

#2

DᵣₑₐₘₗₐₙD

Pairing: DBF!Lloyd Hansen x Fem!Reader(no mention of ethnicity)

Summary: You thought you were happy, you thought you’d never see him again… you were wrong.

w/c: 4.8k

Warnings: smut (needy/semi-rough sex), Possessive behaviour, lil bit toxic relationship, mention of a blowjob,  degradation kink, barely noticeable dumbification, cheating(not on reader) , big age difference, Reader is in mid 20s and Lloyd is in late 40s(in flashbacks reader is 19-21), please let me know if I missed anything <3

a/n: a few days ago I dreamed that Chris Evans fucked me real good right after my wedding(don't even remember who I married lmao), that’s the first dream I’ve remembered in YEARS so I had to turn it into a fic, plus @camilledove @forever-aria @buckys-bitchhh practically BEGGED(literally just asked once) me to write this, this is for them <3

this is not beta'd, any and all mistakes are my own, I'm sorry if this fic gets confusing.

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963 notes - Posted July 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Im about to throw a fit 😤

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[my-chaos-radio]

Release: January 12, 2004

Lyrics:

I was so high, I did not recognize

The fire burning in her eyes

The chaos that controlled my mind

Whispered goodbye as she got on a plane

Never to return again but always in my heart, oh

This love has taken its toll on me

She said goodbye too many times before

And her heart is breakin' in front of me

And I have no choice

'Cause I won't say goodbye anymore

Whoa

Whoa

Whoa

I tried my best to feed her appetite

Keep her coming every night

So hard to keep her satisfied, oh

Kept playing love like it was just a game

Pretending to feel the same

Then turn around and leave again, but uh-oh

This love has taken its toll on me

She said goodbye too many times before

And her heart is breakin' in front of me

And I have no choice

'Cause I won't say goodbye anymore

Whoa

Whoa

Whoa

I'll fix these broken things, repair your broken wings

And make sure everything's all right (it's all right, it's all right)

My pressure on your hips, I'm sinking my fingertips

Every inch of you

Because I know that's what you want me to do

This love has taken its toll on me

She said goodbye too many times before

Her heart is breakin' in front of me

And I have no choice

'Cause I won't say goodbye anymore

This love has taken its toll on me

She said goodbye too many times before

And my heart is breakin' in front of me

And she said goodbye too many times before

Songwriter:

This love has taken its toll on me

She said goodbye too many times before

And her heart is breakin' in front of me

And I have no choice

'Cause I won't say goodbye anymore

Jesse Royal Carmichael / Ryan Michael Dusick / Adam Noah Levine / Michael Allen Madden / James B. Valentine

SongFacts:

"This Love" is a song by the American pop rock band Maroon 5. The song was released on January 12, 2004, as the second single from their debut album Songs About Jane (2002).

The track is built around a piano-led strut and a repeating guitar sound. The lyrics are based on the band's lead vocalist Adam Levine's break-up with an ex-girlfriend. He revealed that the song was written in the "most emotionally trying time" in his life. He has also described the lyrics of this song as being extremely erotic. "This Love" was critically acclaimed by music critics, who noted the track's musicscape.

The song entered the top ten on most charts, topping several of Billboard magazine's component charts, including reaching the number one spot on the Hot Adult Top 40 Tracks chart. The music video met with controversy, regarding extended intimate scenes between Levine and his girlfriend. "This Love" helped Maroon 5 win the MTV Video Music Award for Best New Artist and was the third-most-played song of 2004. The live version of the song won Best Pop Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocals at the 2006 Grammy Awards. "This Love" is one of Maroon 5's most successful singles.

The song was the second single from Maroon 5's 2002 debut album, Songs About Jane. In an interview with MTV News in August 2002, Levine revealed that he wrote the song the day his girlfriend moved away after they broke up. In another interview, Levine revealed that the song was written in the "most emotionally trying time" in his life. He also added, "I was in a relationship that was ending, but I was really excited on the other end because the band was about to go make the record and I was ecstatic to go in the studio. She was literally leaving town within days of me writing the lyrics to 'This Love', so I was in prime emotional condition to write a song with that kind of conflict.

The song received critical acclaim. In the Rolling Stone review of the album, critic Christian Hoard wrote: "Adam Levine's urban-romantic swoonings work best when his band really gets up on the good foot, as on 'This Love', which uses piano and James Brown-like guitars to create a foundation on which Levine can obsess about beauty (including his own)." Jason Thompson of PopMatters noted that on the songs "This Love" and "Must Get Out", keyboardist Jesse Carmichael "manages to conjure up both the productions of Britney Spears and The New Radicals respectively". Sam Beresky of the Daily Lobo, who was less enthusiastic about the album, complimented the band on "This Love", in which he noted, "…'This Love', is a happier version of the first with a great backbeat reminiscent of Stevie Wonder's 'Superstition'. It might make a foot tap, a head nod or even a booty shake if played at a loud volume."

[jimmycartersufo]

this is going to be a random vent related to fall out boy because I'm losing my mind from. being so exhausted and I've been struggling but also celebrating aging. I just saw a post about how Patrick is turning 40 next month and I'm like, how? not because that's bad but where did the time go. I've been a fan of fall out boy for 19 years. a whole ass adult amount of years, a majority of my life. I've only seen them the seven times as of last Wednesday because of money and travel and life. my first show was when I was thirteen and I won a contest on friendsorenemies.com and I yelled I love you Joe! from the crowd and Joe said I love you Joe? back. I saw growing up live and the crowd was too much for me right before Saturday. I've seen them with best friends I don't talk to anymore and people I knew from the falloutboyrock message boards and with my sister and now with my husband (I'm married????). the last time I saw them I got to meet them too and my now husband & I just got back together after a year plus break up during which I played miss missing you and cried in his car and last week when we saw them that was the magic 8 ball even though I hoped and prayed for heavens gate (our wedding song) and that's OK because it just emphasizes how important this band has been to me. it makes me cry so much. they are so integral to the story of my life. so many lives. there were friends from middle and high school at the show. Turning 30 I feel the most close to me I've ever felt. I feel so close to authentic and real and alive me. I got to finally see folie songs live and folie has been such a vital album for me and for growing up and it only makes sense because Pete & Andy were on the cusp of 30 were they not? and Patrick and Joe were nearing the mid twenties. somehow I got through middle and high school and college and I have a degree now and a real™ job that has something to do with my degree and I live not only with my partner but we got married last year (on valentines day can you imagine explaining to teenage me that Andy and I share a wedding anniversary??????????) and how for fun I analyze fall out boy songs because I took the research track for art history and what's really funny is every single time I've seen fall out boy I had the same bedroom. including the most recent time because I moved back in with my parents but the fall out boy posters are gone but don't worry I have a whole ass shelf dedicated to them because growing up also means being your true child self like Rea you got to finally see Chicago is so two years ago. no Chicago trip or secret show. also you're fucking autistic and you have ocd and there's this thing called Para social relationships and you are absolutely struggling with all three.

anyway aging is weird. living is weird. life is weird. and what's soooo wild is that this is such a thin slice of the pie. there's so many terrible fucking things but also so many good things and so many mundane things. wow I'm glad I lived to see my twenties. I have so much life to keep living.