#but it wouldn’t be symmetrical which just isn’t as satisfying

[maxgicalgirl]

reason i like to go to lunch at noon:

❌ get to eat lunch earlier

❌ everyone else in the office takes lunch at 1pm so i have the office to myself during that hour

✅ if i work from 8am-5pm and take lunch from 12-1pm, my morning half is 4 hours long and my afternoon half is 4 hours long, making my day perfectly symmetrical, which tickles my brain

[valdemart]

Valdebreed Part 2

Us: *votes for courtier content*

Nyx Hydra: Yeah we’re not gonna actually do that lol

I tried to keep Valdemar as in character as possible but honestly? Fuck cannon. If Nyx Hydra isn’t going to feed us, I am! Come get y’all lunch!

NSFW ValdemarxReader Consentacles, way too much cum, dirty talking Valdemar, breeding kink, ruined furniture, pet names, after care probably a rushed intro but fuck it.

After pulling yourself together and freshening up in a very well-earned bath, you made your way back to your room where Valdemar waited.

The fire place had been lit. It was also the only light in the room. If it hadn’t been your own room, you might have bumped into something as you made your way over to where you could see Valdemar.

When you first moved in, there had been a chair in the library that you had fallen in love with. It was an oversized arm chair, big enough to curl up in, made of burgundy velvet. You sank into it like a spoiled house cat and read for hours at a time. Valdemar had found you napping in it at some point and shortly after you had found it had been moved to your room. That’s where they sat now. Naked.

 Valdemar never disrobed. Ever. Honestly, you had wondered a few times if their clothing wasn’t part of their actual body. This wasn’t their ‘real’ form, after all. You wouldn’t have been totally shocked to learn that their coat was just their true form’s arm or something, molded to look like clothing. Apparently, you were wrong. All of their skin was the same olive hue as their face and hands, the only other skin of theirs you had really seen before. They were a rectangular shape, their waist only dipping in slightly beneath their ribcage before fulling out to their hips. Their ribs were almost all entirely visible, the shadows cast by the firelight highlighting each groove and protuberance. And sitting on those ribs were the tiniest handfuls of breast tissue, with such perfectly symmetrical shape and nipples that they very obviously weren’t ‘human’. You’d only ever known breasts to be perfect mirror images of each other on statues. You could follow their legs up to their lap, but then all you could make out was shadow.

They were breathtakingly and horrifyingly beautiful.

“I think I’m…overdressed,” you said, your voice so thick with anticipation that you had to pause to swallow before you could finish your sentence.

“For now. I thought this particular situation called for some vulnerability on my part. Disrobe, Little Mouse.”

You slid off your robe and let it pool at your feet, leaving you as bare as they were.

“Come to me.”

You were before them in an instant, desperate to be near them. On them. Filled with them.

“Sit.”

You straddled their lap slowly, knowing the extent of their strength, but still slightly put off by the sight of their ribs. Parts of your brain seemed to have mistaken them for human.

You shivered as your chest pressed against theirs and your nipples hardened against their cool skin. You noticed quietly that theirs were still unerect and soft against you. Their hands wrapped around you gently, their fingers somehow sliding perfectly into the spaces between your ribs where they connected to your spine. If they squeezed, they could probably collapse your whole chest cavity. You had seen them crush a femur in their fist like it had been made out of sugar.

“We’re you ready to begin the experiment, Mouseling?”

“Kiss me first?”

Their lips were cold and thin and they felt so good against your heated skin.

There was loud crackling noise, too loud to have been from the fireplace, followed by a grotesque, wet sound. It sounded like someone was butchering a chicken right in front of you and you would have fallen back to the floor in surprise if Valdemar hadn’t been holding you.

You only saw it for a second but, in the firelight, you saw a cleft on Valdemar’s sternum that started to split open further like the skin was being retracted. You yelped and Valdemar reached out to grab your chin and hold your head upright.

“Look at me, Mouseling. Look only at me.”

They released your chin but your eyes never left theirs. You watched the flames behind you flicker in their red eyes as something unimaginably horrible was happening right below you. The sound traveled downward until it stopped where their genitals would be. Then it was quiet again. You could feel the dark energy emanating from just a few inches below you, but your eyes never left Valdemar’s and you weren’t sure if it was from fear or servility.

“Such an obedient little thing,” Valdemar praised as they brushed your hair off your face. You were sweating despite the chill of their skin and your head was swimming. Their magic tended to do that to you. Asra’s magic and your own magic never made you sick, but Valdemar’s always did. You weren’t sure if it was because it came from a different source or because it was too strong for you. Asra said it was a much older, much darker magic, and that even he wasn’t completely sure he understood it. That had upset you at first, and you tried to argue with him that Valdemar wasn’t evil and you were sick of everyone’s constant comments about it, but he merely placed a finger to your lips to silence you and said ‘I said dark energy, not evil energy’. To Asra’s credit, he handled your relationship with the doctor better than most people had.

But what would he think about a baby?

“Allow me to show you just how satisfying that which you fear is.”

Several appendages the width of a finger started to caress your body, making you jerk away against them, but Valdemar held you steady and your eyes never left theirs. They stared at you, unblinking and smiling softly, as their little tendrils fondled your stomach and legs. They were wet and soft like small tongues, and they left trails of moisture wherever they lapped. While they were a little unnerving, the sensation was like nothing you had felt before. Especially when they found your breasts. They flicked against your nipples flatly before wrapping around them to tug lightly. Your clit pulsed desperately with each little caress and your wet hole clenched around nothing, leaving you feeling desperately empty.

You groaned softly and bucked forward, trying to guide even one of those tendrils to where you now needed it most.

“Impatient?” Valdemar asked, knowing damned well the answer to their own question. “We have the rest of eternity.”  

Still, the tendrils descended then. Some softly pulled your lips apart, exposing you, while others tasted you. Two alternated flicks against your clitoris while three or maybe four slid into you at varying depths.

You keened and bucked into Valdemar’s lap, but you knew nothing you could do would change anything they had planned for you.

“Let’s get you nice and prepared to take my seed.”

It didn’t take long for the appendages to lubricate you, perhaps excessively so. Your body was wet now, and it caused you to shiver against the air.

The tendrils working your body withdrew, and you whined pitifully.

“Hush, Pet,” Valdemar said softly, though clearly unannoyed.

There was a singular tendril then, thicker than any of the last ones. A blunt head prodded you gently for a moment before sliding fully inside. Its girth stretched you, but whatever Valdemar had covered you in took away all resistance.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and, for a moment, you were worried they wouldn’t come back. This was so much more than anything Valdemar had ever given you. You doubted Valdemar had an established phallus, especially since they shapeshifted every other part of their physical form. This huge thing inside of you was made specifically because they wanted you helplessly full, pinned from the inside.

“I c-cant…Val…”

You weren’t asking for them to stop. No, this was delicious. You need this. But it was so, so much.

“You can. And you will.”

The phallus withdrew slowly to the tip before sliding back in just as slowly, all while Valdemar didn’t move a muscle. It was so typical of the demon, to wreck you without any indication of physical response on their end. They were going to fuck you and anyone watching would think they had nothing to do with it.

Valdmar’s…cock? For lack of a better comparison in your mind fucked you in the uniform way Valdemar did anything. While it lacked human variation, it was unrelenting in its endeavor to impregnant you.

“I can feel your little cunt milking me. Your body’s as desperate to get pregnant as you are.”

Your head dropped with a heavy moan and Valdemar shifted back, taking your full weight against them. If this dicking didn’t kill you, them talking like that certainly would. The heat inside of you was becoming unbearable. All you needed was a little bit more.

“Can you go faster?” You asked softly as you jerked your hips forward into their thrusting.

“Weren’t you just saying you couldn’t handle things as they were?”

You whined pitifully at their teasing.

“Please? Please? Please?”

With each beg you humped yourself harder. You could feel your climax mounting and all you wanted was to finish with Valdemar this deep inside of you. You weren’t above begging.

“Of course, Duckling. We need your orgasm to move my ejaculate to your womb.”

Their weird medical speak should have been embarrassing, but your walls fluttered around them.

One of their hands found the back of your head while the other wrapped around your waist. When Valdemar pushed back into you, it was a sharp, hard thrust and you cried out before you fell forward. You moaned loudly into the fabric of the chair and Valdemar held you against it.

“I have you.”

The tentacle started to piston in and out of you, the speed of the penetration through both of your fluids making the most unholy of sounds, like someone drowning in mud. Your body jiggled and shuddered against Valdemar as they remained perfectly still while they kept you caged to them.

“Val! Val-d-de-mah! Ah! Ah! Ah!”

It was right there. You could feel yourself about to snap. Just a little more. Oh, please just a little more. Oh please oh please oh please oh please

A few of the small tendrils from earlier reappeared to lap at your clit and you screamed into the chair. As you contracted around the still thrusting phallus, you could feel it erupt. The fluid coming out of it wasn’t hot or cold, but there was a ridiculous amount of it. It squirted inside of you before you felt it leak out around the two of you, quickly causing a puddle to form in Valdemar’s lap. Despite this, they were still moving in and out of you, fucking their cum back inside of you as it came out.

Too spent to try and wiggle away from the overstimulation, you whimpered for mercy.

“ ‘S too much. Val…”.

“I’m only trying to make sure you’re completely inseminated. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Despite their teasing, their tendril retracted out of you. You shuddered, both thankful for the break and grieving the loss of fullness.  

“Val…That was crazy…”

“Science often is.”

It wasn’t hard for Valdemar to maneuver you onto your back in their lap, despite you being completely dead weight. Hooking one arm under your knees, they elevated your lower body and cradled you.

“You’re being too wasteful with my sperm, Little One. You need to be more grateful.”

Finally able to look at yourself, you saw that you were bathed almost completely in black. It started around your breasts where the tendrils had played with you and you grew darker the further down yourself you looked. Of course, Valdemar came black. You doubted anything viable in terms of offspring would actually come of this, but the closeness, the intimacy, that was what you had really needed. The brain melting orgasm hadn’t hurt either.

“I love you.”

Valdemar hummed in acknowledgement before softly running a finger down your stomach, through the gummy pitch they had covered you in, before tracing small circles around your womb.

Every time the fire flickered, the lighting on their face changed, making them look like they were morphing briefly. You couldn’t help but smile.

“We’re going to have such cute kids.”

[agntofhydra]

Sawbones // TWO

(gif credit) 

summary: Red String of Fate Soulmate AU

Soul mates have a red thread tied to each others pinkies that only one of them can see.

You’re the Resistance’s head medic. You can see the red thread of fate that leads you to your soulmate. Poe doesn’t believe in the soulmate / thread theory. You don’t agree with his tactics, nor does he approve of yours. Leia and Holdo just really want a win.

pairing: poe dameron x reader

rating: mature for later chapters

read me on ao3! 

part one here!

read on till the end for notes! 

SAWBONES

TWO // PULLED TAUGHT

No.

You hadn’t been avoiding him.

You were busy. Taking inventory, filling out incident reports, stocking, taking care of your patients - which, you noticed, had decreased in number over the last couple days. And you knew why.

Someone must’ve been taking better care of their pilots.

Jasti was released the morning after the whole - for lack of a better term - ordeal. She’d heard your violent retching and had banged on the door, asking if you were okay.

Your vision was white, and after about two rounds you were dry heaving. No fucking way, your mind rattled. The revelation shook you to your core. You were happy being unsuspecting, ignorant of the fact that your soulmate had been pittering around D’Qar for literal months while you sat in your office, pissing off FX-7 and berating their antics in your head. The furrow of his eyebrows, the flicker of concern in his eyes at your sudden change in demeanor when you saw his pinky also had ingrained itself in your mind. Lingered every time you shut your eyes. You must’ve stayed in the refresher for an hour or two, senses numbed to Jasti’s incessant banging on the door.

You also weren’t good with conflict, and a conflict this was indeed.

What were you supposed to do? Tell him? Would he even believe you? Ziff said he didn’t trust the concept anymore, too many girls taking advantage of where he once was soft. Exploited that weakness until it was solid beskar.

So no, you didn’t tell him.

You’d stayed busy. He was busy, too. Per your objections, Leia had him and his squadrons flying more recon and actually formulating a real operation to investigate the cargo ship orbiting around Kessel. You’d heard that from whispers in the hallway, and you didn’t really want to venture out for any updates.

Turns out, you wouldn’t have to.

As if your thoughts had summoned him, Poe was dragging a pilot from blue squadron into your medbay, one of their arms around his shoulder, one of his around their waist. His eyes were searching, panicked until they met yours as you flew from your office and threw the pilot onto the first open bed.

“What happened?” You asked, immediately checking for vitals. His skin was burning, clammy. FX-7 recorded his temperature and your heart dropped at the number.

“We were flying back, literally leaving hyperdrive when I was notified Blue Three was having trouble, and could barely steer his x-wing through D’Qar’s orbit.” Poe paused. “His skin is on fire.”

“I’m aware,” you tried not to bite back as you threw FX-7 an IV bag. You also did not dwell on the fact that Poe didn’t even know this pilot’s name. “Do we have hadeira serum?”

“You did inventory,” FX-7 duly responded as he inserted a needle into the pilot’s basilic vein. Poe cringed and looked away, eyes focused on you instead.

You hadn’t really done inventory, and you were cursing yourself for it now.

“Wait,” Poe frowned. “Hadeira? You think he’s got bloodburn?”

“He’s been in with a fever before,” you muttered as you rifled through the cabinet on the opposite wall. Poe followed, barking over your shoulder.

“And you didn’t ground him?”

You paused, closing your eyes for a second and taking a deep breath before returning to your search. You really didn’t need Dameron on his high horse right now, questioning your calls.

It was only fair. You had done it to him, you reminded yourself. That didn’t mean you couldn’t whip around and land one in the middle of his chiseled, ridiculously handsome and symmetrical face. You groaned audibly at not only your thoughts, but your inability to locate the literal life-saving serum.

“Back off, Dameron,” you said between your teeth as you all but sprinted back into your office where you kept the more valuable medicines. You unlocked the closet behind your desk with your hand and entered, eyes scanning the shelves. Once again, Poe followed.

“What’s wrong, doc? Don’t like it when people question your authority?”

You finally turned to him, slightly put off by the fact he was less than a meter away. You didn’t let it show.

“You wanna do this right now?” You raised your eyebrows. He crossed his arms over his chest and the thread around his pinky was directly in your field of vision. You held back the bile that rose in the back of your throat.

“His fever is so high that his blood is boiling right now. Which will kill him. So please, Dameron. If you think this argument is worth more than me finding the serum and saving his life,” you punctuated each word, “keep talking. But I’m not listening.”

Your eyes caught the vials to the right of his head, and he stepped out of the closet and into the expanse of your office as you grabbed the vials and quickly returned to the medbay where FX-7 had started hydrating the pilot. You handed the droid the hadeira serum and FX-7 made quick work of administering.

You let out a long breath. You weren’t totally in the clear, but it was as under control as it could be. Poe gave you a look and you nodded, silently telling him his pilot was okay. For now.

Poe stared at him for a couple moments longer, and once he was satisfied leaving him in the care of FX-7, he kicked your boot lightly.

“Can we talk now?”

Swallowing thickly, you nodded and led him back into your office. Poe sat down in one of the stark white chairs that matched the rest of your office as you locked the medicine closet. You turned around to him but kept your distance.

“What’s there to talk about?”

He bit the inside of his cheeks to keep him from grinning. “I don’t bite, y’know.”

You rolled your eyes, but nonetheless moved closer to him and sat atop your desk.

The red thread floated between the both of you, moving as if it was being jostled by the air currents in the room. Before you could even think, your left hand went to pluck at the string tied near the base of your finger. To your utmost surprise, the now tangible string pulled back due to your force. You let go in shock. The string vibrated and you watched the movement travel to shake the thread connecting to Poe. He coughed, left hand clenching and unclenching his fingers. You watched the action and met his eyes. Once again, he furrowed his brows.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

It was your turn to furrow your brows, and Poe continued, “Y’know. Looking into space and then turning pale like there’s a rancor in here that I don’t see. And then you look at me like it’s my fault?"

It’s now or never, you told yourself. Come clean.

“It’s nothing.” Coward.

Poe dropped the subject. “Anyways, you must’ve been swamped these last few days because you haven’t checked in to hear any updates on the cargo ship.”

Not trusting your voice, you just shrugged as your eyes rested back on the crimson that connected the two of you. Seeing it was definitely a curse. You tried not to dwell on how different things would be if it was Poe that could see it. What a weight off your shoulders that would be.

Maybe if he could see it, it wouldn’t be you on the other end, the voice in head told you. Poe was still rambling about Kessel and you definitely weren’t listening. You don’t want that, do you? For him to be soulmates with someone else?

It happened all the time though, people ending up with those who they weren’t tethered to. The galaxy was far too huge and vast, many people never having the opportunity to leave their home planet, let alone venture and seek out their soulmate. Some people, Poe included now, saw it as a myth, it was becoming so rare. You’d only ever known one pair of soulmates to meet in the years you’d been alive. Your parents.

Either way, your mind needed to slow down. You didn’t know Poe. From what you’ve seen of him, despite his impeccable physical features, you weren’t really a fan. But...just regarding his physical features? Big fan.

He snapped you out of your reverie. “Stars, you are infuriating.”

You apologized, placing your hands in the front pockets of your medic coat in hopes to ignore the thread, but it stuck out of the material of your pocket instead.

“There’s no harm in collecting more intel,” you told him. “Especially if it saves lives.”

He rubbed his forehead. “There is if it’s time sensitive! The ship could leave Kessel at any moment and then we’ll never know what was on it.”

You snorted. “You said it’s been in your knowledge for a while, been written off until now. I don’t buy it. I don’t know what you’re wanting from me, Dameron, but I won’t apologize. This is how I feel, and General Organa and Vice Admiral Holdo agree with me.”

“I want a common ground,” he said. Your gut twisted. “We met not ten minutes before you blasted me to pieces in that briefing room.”

“I don’t think you’re used to opposition.”

“I’m not.”

“You should always consider every point of view, especially for things like this. Have you heard about the terror running the First Order? You really want to face him in your little x-wing?”

Poe jerked his head. “Do not insult my ship.”

“Stars, Dameron, can you listen to a voice that isn’t your own for five seconds?”

“I was listening, obviously, ‘cause I heard your jab about my ship.” You could force-choke him right now. “But I get where you’re coming from. Where you’re more conservative and safe, I’m intuitive and risky and you hate it,” he said with a smile that met his eyes.

“I would call it impulsive and ill-informed,” you countered. You definitely didn’t hate bantering with him. You noticed subtly that over the course of the conversation, Poe had begun to move closer to you, inching closer and closer to the edge of the chair.

“Astute and adept,” he stood, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes never left yours.

“Reckless and arrogant.” You didn’t want him to come any closer, unsure if you would either retch all over his shoes or bunch up the material of his brown leather jacket in your grip to pull him closer.

As if the stars were listening and answered, FX-7 appeared in the doorway. Your eyes broke from Poe’s, turning your attention to the droid and Poe followed suit.

“Pilot Nunb’s fever has broken,” it said. “He will make it through the night.”

Night? You realized you’d been so consumed the last couple days you’d lost all concept of time.

“Great news,” Poe said, turning from FX-7 back to you. “I need to go tell the rest of blue squadron.” Poe shamelessly looked you up and down.

“‘Till next time, Doc.”

Poe sidestepped the droid in the doorway without another glance at you. You remained on your desk, hands still in your pockets as you watched the thread disappear into the wall as Poe left.

“It is hardly relevant to speak in matters that pertain to humans,” FX-7 began, “let alone ones that concern my superior, but if I may?”

You couldn’t hide your confusion. FX-7 never spoke to you unless it was a medical matter. You nodded for him to go ahead.

“You are consumed with plenty. I caution against adding Commander Dameron to the list.”

You frowned. “FX, do you know about the soulmate thread?” What harm would it be to tell a droid? FX barely talked to you, and chances were zero that the droid would air this to anyone else.

The droid lifted its metal head up and down. “Yes.”

It was the most humanistic the droid had ever been, and you felt mildly miffed. Has FX-7 always been able to not be so robotic? You’d save that thought to be pissed about another time.

“I can see it,” you said quietly. “It’s tied to him.”

FX-7 was silent, motionless for a few moments and it almost seemed like he had powered down. “That is…” he paused. “Inconvenient.”

“Yeah, I know,” you said, hopping down from your desk. Your hands left your pockets to run through your hair as you tried to clear your thoughts and just breathe.

“Is that why you have busied yourself more than usual?”

“Didn’t wanna deal with it,” you nodded. “Still don’t.”

“That will only prove to make things more arduous. You have two options when it comes to Commander Dameron, and you know which I favor. For the good of the Resistance and your work.” FX-7 then left the doorway to your office as promptly as he had arrived.

✗ ✗ ✗

You fell asleep in your office that night, or maybe it was morning by the time you collapsed against your desk. Despite FX-7’s confirmation, you couldn’t let yourself go back to your quarters when the pilot in your medbay was teetering on the cusp of cardiac arrest.

Leia Organa woke you by softly brushing the hair out of your face. Your head lifted instantaneously, a paper stuck to your cheek. You quickly removed it and smoothed down the rest of your hair to at least try and look presentable.

“General,” you regarded her, standing up from your seat. She smiled softly at you.

“Doctor, I apologize for waking you.”

You shook your head and tried not to wince when you peeked at the digital numbers glaring at you upon the wall.

“I needed to be awake, anyways. I’m late for rounds,” you muttered the last part to yourself.

“I came to update you on the operation,” she moved back around your desk and sat down in the seat Poe had occupied only a few hours prior.

“We’ve received intel that the TIE fighters stationed in front of the ship are no longer there, presumably to return to the First Order to refuel or receive maintenance. It’s a narrow window, but Commander Dameron and both Red and Blue squadrons have departed a few hours ago to hopefully investigate that cargo ship.”

You nodded at her words and contained the frown from surfacing on your face. Your stomach knotted, fearing that the absence of First Order protection was all too convenient, and they were falling into a trap.

The First Order was smart, something you had learned first hand. You’d been on their radar for as long as you could remember. The bad guys needed medics, too.

Some of your peers that you had completed medical school with had left to join, and ultimately you couldn’t blame them. The offer was tempting, yet mostly threatening. Most of them joined more out of fear than anything. You had been moments away yourself, but instead you were here. On D’Qar. A vital part of the Resistance. If you were someone who believed in such phenomena, you would swear the galaxy itself had made sure of it.  

“Have you heard anything since they left?” You asked.

Leia shook her head, trying to hide her worried expression. “They’re in good hands. Poe is the best pilot I’ve seen since…” She stopped herself. “He’s the man for this.”

“So I’ve heard,” you said. “I hope he proves me wrong. And also brings every pilot back in one piece.”

“Together, I think you two would make quite the formidable pair.”

“With respect, General,” you tried not to snort at her words. “I think it’s better if we keep our distance. Our stubbornness might tear a rift in the galaxy.”

“Or,” she winked. “It could bring it together.”

You had no response.

“I’ll be back should there be any word from Poe, and - “

Leia’s words were cut off by the familiar screech of a x-wings cutting into the atmosphere and landing on the runway.

Wordlessly, the two of you all but sprinted from the medical wing out into the open, expansive area that was the runway. Countless others were surfacing outside, watching the ships land and be courted off into the hangars for repairs. From what you could tell, they all looked fine. No exposed wires or blaster burns. For the most part, the squadrons looked untouched. The last ship to land was Poe’s black and orange T-70.

The second the x-wing was stopped, Poe all but threw himself from the cockpit, shucking his helmet off and chucking it at the ground. BB-8’s body blurred as the droid tried to keep up with his long, quick strides. His eyes met Leia’s first, immediately spurning his feet to turn in her direction. When he eventually realized you were also next to her, his eyes all but physically set you on fire.

You held your breath as he crossed the runway. Poe looked downright dangerous, he was so angry. Leia noticed this too, but did not change her demeanor as she waited patiently for him to come to her, hands clasped behind her back.

“Mission report, Commander Dameron,” she said.

“Can we discuss this somewhere else?” Poe asked as he stopped walking, finally reaching his destination. BB-8 rolled up a second later. His eyes flicked to yours.

“We can, but the Doctor will be there regardless.”

Poe wanted to scream.

“The mission went as smoothly as expected. We were met with no First Order resistance or ambush as we docked and investigated the cargo ship.”

“And what did you find?”

Poe took a deep breath, calming his heartbeat that was deafening in his ears. His fists clenched and unclenched, and unfortunately the thread was still there. Except this time, it was pulled taught between your bodies when it usually sagged with slack.

“We found spice, General.”

Oh.

Maybe you did believe in some higher power. There had to be someone pulling the strings behind this scenario. You wanted to laugh, point your finger and tell him ‘told you so’. But you didn’t, because the tension and anger in Poe’s body was so apparent that it looked like he was a chain pulled so tight it wasn’t a matter of if, but when he would snap.

So you settled for pursing your lips very tightly.

“Nothing else to report?” Leia questioned.

Poe shook his head.

“I’m glad you all made it back safe,” she said, putting her hand on Poe’s shoulder. “It was one mission, Poe. There will be other opportunities.”

He nodded, not meeting her eyes as Leia took her leave. The two of you stood in intolerable silence and you weren’t sure why Poe didn’t immediately sprint off as soon as Leia left.

“I’m glad everyone made it back safely,” you spoke slowly, offering a metaphorical olive branch.

Poe cocked his head, eyes narrowing as he met yours. You braced yourself, waiting for him to maybe pull out his blaster and take you out on the spot.

“Save it,” he said, though his voice didn’t hold the venom you expected. “Do you want me to tell you that you were right?”

You shrugged. “Not required, but I’m not against it.”

He did not accept your poor attempt at lightening the mood. Instead, he sighed deeply and dragged a hand down his face.

“I look like a complete joke . Making such a big deal out of this whole operation, only to be completely and utterly wrong.” He laughed dryly, and you tried not to wince.

“But you know who was right? A fucking medic. The holier-than-thou doctor who doesn’t ever leave her medbay, but the one time she does she completely undermines everything.”

Of course, it was your fault. Poe didn’t want to face the fact that his lack of patience and impulsiveness had forced him and his whole squadron to investigate a cargo ship full of spice. Against your better judgement, you let him continue his diatribe. He continued, berating your position, your lack of expertise and inability to, how did he put it? Stay out of matters that don’t pertain to you. He seemed to have forgotten the minute detail that Holdo had asked for you to be there, even though you reminded him of that fact last night.

After a ridiculous amount of time, Poe eventually stopped to catch his breath. As soon has he did, he tried to continue.

“Not to mention - “

You cut him off. “Are you done?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I could go on all day.”

You crossed your arms. “I’m sure you could. Because you absolutely have the right to completely tear me down when we met for the first time a couple days ago.”

“I’ve heard enough about you,” Poe countered.

“As have I,” you clenched your jaw. “Your reputation precedes your rank, Dameron. You really think you’re going to earn respect and trust around the base when you’re running through every female here? You think that speaks well of your character? You think that’s Commander behavior?”

Poe interlaced his hands on the top of his head as he laughed at you incredulously.

“I can’t even stand to breathe the same air as you right now,” Poe said.

How fucking immature. You narrowed your eyes. “Then stop breathing.”

At your words, the red thread tightened around your finger painfully. So tight, it felt as though it was about to cut through and remove the finger entirely. Your other hand rubbed at your finger -  desperately, futilely trying to loosen the string.

Poe watched your action, and then sucked in a breath through his teeth as he grasped as his own pinky in pain. He noticed his movements mirrored yours.

“Wha-” he paused. “Wait - “ Two pieces clicked in Poe’s brain.

But it didn’t matter, because you were already retreating, your steps quick and purposeful. You were fleeing back to the medbay and away from whatever was about to come out of Poe’s mouth. You couldn’t deal with it, not now and probably not ever.

You didn’t miss the way his eyes watched your hands before watching his own, his forehead creasing with confusion, then what you hoped wasn’t realization. You didn’t think your actions obvious, but if he felt the same pain you did, it was impossible not to notice.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, your mind spiraled. Poe called your name, your actual name, but you were too far gone and nothing short of the force would make you go back to him.

This time, your interaction with Poe Dameron didn’t end with emptying your guts in the refresher, but by entering your office and locking it.

Small victories.

_ 

thank you all so so so much for all the positive feedback and support!! i love it!!! i’ve gotten a couple requests for a tag list so if you’d like to me to create one / be added to it just send me a message! also, if i made a playlist for this, would y’all be interested? lmk! xoxo. 

[togglesbloggle]

So, @argumate is up to some more prosocial atheistic trolling.  As is usual with such things, the conversation isn’t particularly elevated, but it does make me nostalgic for the old bbc days.  So I thought I’d be the Discourse I’d like to see in the world.  This is the post that kicked things off; correctly noting Platonism as a philosophical foundation underpinning most versions of Abrahamic faiths.  And it’s probably the most useful place for me to target also, since hardly anybody just identifies as a Platonist but most westerners are one.  So, without further ado, a halfhearted and full-length defense of Platonism:

Well, strike that.  A little bit of ado.

I’m not a Platonist myself, so this is a devil’s advocate type of thing.  Or maybe you could call it an intellectual Turing test?  As I discuss here, my philosophical commitments are mostly to skepticism, and for instrumental reasons, to reductionist materialism.  That combo leaves me some wiggle room, and I find it fairly easy to provisionally occupy a religious mindset, so I can generally read and enjoy religious polemics.  I also have a fairly deep roster of what are often called ‘spiritual experiences’; I’m probably in the set of people that are by nature predisposed to religion.  I am not religious, and I approve of Argumate saying things like ‘God is not real’ a lot.  This is in no way a retread of the arguments in The Republic or Plato’s other writings; you can go read those if you want, but I’m going to play around with stuff that I think is better suited to this audience.

Attention conservation notice: yikes.  This got pretty long.

Anyway, on to the argument.  Argumate’s main point is pretty clear, I think: ‘forms’ in the Greek sense are a function and product of the perceiving mind.  Birds don’t conform to bird-ness; instead brains naturally produce a sort of bird-ness category to make processing the world easier, and to turn a series of wiggly and continuous phenomena into a discrete number of well-modeled objects.  Basically, we impose ‘thing-ness’ on the wavefunction of reality.  And there are some good reasons to think that it might be true!  Our understanding of categories gets a lot sharper when reality conveniently segregates itself, and whenever that boundary gets a little blurry, our ability to use categories tends to break down.  If the recognition of animal-ness came from contact with a higher plane of reality, you wouldn’t necessarily expect people to get confused about sponges.

But.  While there’s certainly plenty of support for Argumate’s position, it doesn’t strike me as anything near self-evident, or necessarily true.  So what I’ll argue is that Platonism isn’t obviously false, and that if we ever converge on a true answer to the question of our reality, then that truth could plausibly be recognizably Platonist.  My opening salvo here is, predictably enough, mathematics.

‘Mathematical Platonism’ is a whole other thing, only distantly related to Classical Platonism, and I only really mean to talk about the latter.  But nonetheless, mathematics really actually does appear to be a situation where we can simply sit in a chair, think deeply, and then more or less directly perceive truths.  Basic arithmetic can be independently discovered, and usefully applied, by almost anybody; ‘quantity’ comes naturally to most humans, and the inviolable laws of quantity are exploited just as often.  It’s also very hard to argue that these are ‘mere’ linguistic conventions, since fundamental natural behaviors like the conservation of mass depend on a kind of consistent logical framework.  In most chemical reactions, the number of atomic nuclei does not change, and the atoms added to a new molecule are perfectly mirrored by the loss of atoms in some reactant; this remains true in times and places where no thinking mind exists to count them.

There are a lot of debates about what math is, fundamentally.  But inevitably when we study math, we’re studying the set of things that must be true, given some premise: we’re asking whether some proposition is a necessary consequence of our axioms.  The so-called ‘unreasonable effectiveness of mathematics’ suggests that the phenomena that Argumate mentions- hotdogs and birds and whatnot- are observed only within the auspices of a sort of super-phenomenon.  Loosely speaking, we can call this super-phenomenon self-consistency.  

We treat phenomena as having a natural cause.  Platonism, at its crunchy intellectually rewarding center, represents a willingness to bite the bullet and say that self-consistency also has a cause.  Plato himself actually provided what might be the most elegant possible answer!  Basically, posit the simplest thing that meets the criterion of being A) autocausal and B) omnicausal, and then allow the self-consistency of the cosmos to follow from its dependence on (in Platonist terms, its emanation from) that single, unitary cause.  The universe is self-consistent for the very straightforward reason that there’s only one thing.  Any plurality, to the extent that plurality is even a thing, happens because ‘the only real thing’ is only partially expressed in a particular phenomenon.  To skip ahead to Lewis’ Christian interpretation of all this, you’d say that humans and moons and hotdogs are distinguished from God not by what they have, but by what they lack.

And for present purposes, I do want to take a step back and point out that this does feel like a reasonable answer to a very important question.  Materialism fundamentally has no answer to the question of self-consistency and/or the presence of logic and order, and that is (for me) one of its least satisfying limits.  We’ve got things like ‘the origin of the universe’, sure.  But we probe the Big Bang with mathematical models!  That’s a hell of an assumption- namely, that even at the origin of our universe, self-consistency applies.  It’s not like materialism has a bad explanation.  It just remains silent, treats the problem as outside the domain.  If we’re adopting the thing for utilitarian reasons, that’s fine.  But if we’re treating materialism as a more comprehensive philosophy, a possible approach to the bigger questions, then it’s a painful absence.  In that domain, far from being self-evidently true (in comparison to Platonism), materialism doesn’t even toss its hat in the ring!

Which, uh, gets us to the stuff about Forms and shadows in Plato’s Cave and all that- the intermediate form of existence between the omnisimple core of Platonism and the often chaotic and very plural experience of day-to-day life.  And frankly, we’re not especially bound to say that the forms are exactly as Plato described them, any more than atomism is restricted to Democritus.  Whether there is some ‘bird-ness’ that is supra- to all extant birds might be contestable; however, it’s easier to wonder whether ‘binary tree’ is supra- to speciation and the real pattern of differences between organisms that we map using Linnaean taxonomy.

But, this is an attempted defense of Platonism and not Toggle’s Version of Platonism that He Invented Because it’s Easier, so I’ll give it a try.  Fair warning to the reader, what follows is not fully endorsed (even in the context of a devil’s advocate-type essay), except the broader claim that it’s not self-evidently false.  And on the givens we came up with a couple paragraphs ago, this is a reasonable way to tackle what necessarily follows.  So let me see how far I can defend a very strong claim: in a self-consistent (or: mathematical) cosmos, beauty cannot be arbitrary.

Remember that Plato never argued that his Forms were arbitrary, or even fully discrete as such; their apparent plurality, like our own, emanates from the unitary Thing What Exists.  And so, bird-ness is treated as a contingent thing, not an absolute.  It’s just not contingent on human experience.  And so for us to believe in ‘bird-ness’ is to believe that there exists some specific and necessary pattern- a Form- which any given material bird must express.

Let’s take an obvious example: any flying bird will, for fairly simple aerodynamic reasons, tend to be symmetrical.  Usually, this means two wings.  In theory, you could… have one in the middle?  Maybe?  Even that seems rather goofy to try to imagine, but you could probably get away with it if you were extremely creative biologically.  And if we see a bird with only one wing (without a prosthetic or other form of accommodation), then we will tend quite naturally to recognize that something awful is in the process of happening.

A fully materialist explanation of our reaction here would say: we think of the one-winged bird as problematic because A) we have been socialized to recognize and appreciate two-winged birds, and spurn deviations from that socialization, or maybe B) because natural selection has given us a set of instincts that recognize when a body plan has failed in the past, so things like ‘being crippled’ or ‘being sick’ are recognizable.  

Platonism, I think, would offer a third option, that C) we recognize (as emanations of The Real Thing) that a one-winged bird body is insufficiently reflective of The Real Thing, and that accordingly it lacks the ability to keep existing.  Plato had some… basically magical ideas, about how Forms are recognized, but here I’ll point out that ‘deduction’ is a completely serviceable kind of magic for our purposes.  It is, after all, our direct experience of the self-consistency of the cosmos, which follows from the fact that we are ourselves an expression of that same self-consistency; it meets the criteria.  

Materialists, obviously, would agree that deductive reasoning could allow a person to recognize the problems inherent in a one-winged bird, but as I said a few paragraphs up, their(/our) explanation of this process is rootless.  “Yes, logic and a few high-confidence assumptions let you assume that a bird with only one wing is in trouble,” they might say.  And we might ask- “what makes you so sure?”  And then the materialist must respond, “Well, let me be more clear.  It always worked in the past, and my Bayesian priors are strongly in the direction of the method continuing to bear fruit.”  True enough, but it’s not an explanation and doesn’t pretend to be.  The universe just does this weird thing for some reason; it works ‘by magic’.  So why not call it that?  Theurgy for all!

So, consider.  We recognize (deductively, let’s say for the sake of argument) that a one-winged bird is on the road to becoming nonexistent, absent some change in circumstances.  It may keep going for a little while, but it’s not in homeostasis.  And if we reasonably admit this very basic duality to our thinking- things which can persist, and things which cannot- then we start to recognize a sort of analogy between physical phenomena and mathematical propositions.  A lemma can be right or wrong, albeit sometimes unprovably so.  Basically, it can follow- or not- from the axioms we’re working with.  And in a softer but very real sense, that one-winged body plan is wrong analogously to the lemma’s wrongness.  Not ‘wrong’ as in ‘counter to cultural norms’, but ‘wrong’ as in ‘unstable given the premises, given the Thing That Exists Most’.  Look up research on fitness landscapes, if you’re so inclined- actual biological research isn’t totally unacquainted with the notion.  There exists a surprisingly discrete ideal or set of ideals, both for flying birds as a whole and subordinately for any given flying bird species.  And we have discovered this using magic.

Insofar as beauty is something to be admired, or pursued, or is otherwise desirable, then our sense of beauty must necessarily correlate with those abstract, and dare I say supra-real, qualities which allow things to persist, and which can therefore be understood deductively.  And that set of qualities does, effectively, meet the Platonic criterion of a ‘form’.

The immediate materialist objection is: hey, wait a minute.  The supposed ‘objective’ criterion of a bird is contingent, not absolute!  It follows from the strength of gravity, the thickness of the atmosphere, the availability of food sources, and on and on.  This is one of the most important reasons why genetic drift and speciation happens in the first place, because the ‘ideal’ bird depends on an environment that’s in constant flux.

True enough.  But!  How do you think the atmosphere got there?  It’s an old trick in religious discourse, but in this case I think a valid one.  The rightness of the bird depends on the atmosphere, the rightness of the atmosphere depends on the planet, the rightness of the planet depends on the solar system, and ultimately it all depends on that necessary self-consistency which (we proclaim) implies our unitary Most Real Thing.  This does mean that we can’t really think of Platonic forms as wholly discrete objects, unconnected to one another and without internal relation among themselves- unfortunately, that’s part of the original Plato that I don’t see as defensible, even with maximum charity.  But there’s such a thing as a ‘ring species’, and if we admit Platonic Forms of that type, a kind of dense network of paths being traced through higher-dimensional spaces that correspond to the shadow of That Than Which There Is No Whicher, then it’s more than salvageable.  It’s both satisfying to imagine and, I think, quite consistent with the spirit of the original philosophy.

One thing this doesn’t mean.  Even if we were to accept all of this, we aren’t obliged to resign ourselves to the lot of that one-winged bird.  Indeed, if anything this gives us a rich language by which to justify a prosthetic wing or other form of accommodation: we can talk about ‘making the bird whole’, and can see how our compassion for that bird might lead us to create the conditions of homeostasis once again.  But it does mean that if we take a position on the merits of existence- if we’re in favor- then we don’t treat a one- and two-winged bird as coequal scenarios.

Anyway, this has gone on hideously long already for what’s basically an intellectual exercise, so I won’t dive into immortal souls or any of the other ancillaries.  I mostly want to reiterate that, far from being obviously false, I do think that (some forms of) Platonism are quite defensible, and can provide coherent answers to questions that I A) care about very deeply and B) can’t resolve to my own satisfaction.  Of course, it is not obviously nor trivially true, either.  But one can be Platonist without being willfully wrong.

[airi-p4]

Perfect asymmetry

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue

My fav. fic yet :)

Warning: Rated T for mild language

Warning 2: Includes art (1 simple totally SFW drawing)

Thanks to @livrever​ for the corrections!

Available in Ao3 too

____________________________________

It was late night and Juleka was crying in her room. Fortunately, or unfortunately, her room was shared with his brother, Luka, whom, having a trained ear from his music studies, could hear her sobbing clear and loud.

Luka was sleepy in his bed. He had been trying to sleep, but now he was internally debating if he should leave her sister alone or ask her what’s wrong. Kindness was one of his main traits, and he couldn’t deny he had a soft spot for his beautiful younger sister, so it didn’t take long for him to get out of his bed, stand up on his feet and move towards Juleka’s part of the room, crossing past the partitions that separated both areas.

“What’s wrong, Jules? Don’t cry please.” He said while looking at her curled up in her bed, in a fetal position using her pillow to hide her face.

“I… I’ll never be able to become a model anymore…” she managed to say between her crying hiccups.

“Don’t say that… You’re pretty, you know that. I’m sure you can be an excellent model. It’s your dream, right? You just have to be confident and trust yourself.” Luka sat on the bottom part of her bed, where her feet would be if she weren’t all curled up hugging her knees. He was stretching to pat Juleka’s head as he talked.

“No… I can’t… Not anymore…” she mumbled.

“Why? What happened? Tell me.” He had a soft smile on his face, and just that was enough to make Juleka relax a little.

“It’s embarrassing… I… I can’t be a model anymore because… because…” Juleka paused for some seconds. Luka was willing to listen to her closely and, with a welcoming look and slightly nodding, he encouraged Juleka to continue what she was saying. Trusting absolutely in her brother, Juleka continued talking in a very low voice. “My chest… my breast sizes… are different… They're not symmetrical at all…not pretty…”

‘Well, that was unexpected’, Luka thought. Nothing he could do about it except encourage her and try to make her feel better.

“Hey, Jules, it’s OK! I heard having different breast sizes happens to most women. I would say it’s pretty common! So, don’t overthink it, you’ll be fine as you are! Even Marinette’s are-” Luka gasped as he noticed his mistake, covering his mouth with his hand and looking away embarrassed. “Forget this last part. I just mean it’s OK, it’s normal and nothing that can crush your dream. So stop crying, OK? Just get some rest and you’ll feel better tomorrow”. He spoke nervously and faster than usual. Just as he stopped talking he kissed his sister's long purple hair before getting ready to take his leave “Sleep well”.

Luka stood up fast, in a rush to leave as soon as he could. But he found it impossible when Juleka rapidly grabbed his arm, VERY strongly, impeding him from moving farther. She had returned to a sitting position after his brother had kissed her hair, in order to stare fiercely into his brother’s eyes. Good thing she had stopped crying, but she had now a killer look on her face and Luka knew he was screwed.

“I’m not forgetting any of your spoken words. It’s your turn to explain to me now. HOW THE HELL DO YOU KNOW ABOUT MARINETTE’S BREAST SIZES!?”

Luka choked at how direct was the answer that came out of her sister’s mouth. He immediately got his brain cells working to think a way out of the mess he got caught in because of his slip of the tongue. An excuse (or a memory, to be accurate), didn’t last long to appear in his mind.

“You know, we went to the pool together some days ago and… I just noticed… You know, she was wearing that pink and black bikini… the…" Luka blushed at the memory as he paused "You know which one I mean…”

“Oh YES. The flashy one. No, the SEXY one. Of course I know. I couldn’t stop staring at her for a long while! No one who was there could! Not until you lend her your jacket to brush the pervs looks off! I’m thankful you did that, you know? She kind of made me feel like a horny girl. God, she looked so gorgeous!”

Luka couldn’t help it but to internally nod in agreement while his sister talked. But there was more talk coming, the type of talk that meant trouble to Luka and caught him unprepared.

“That’s why I know you are lying. Because I myself stared at Marinette long enough to memorize every detail of her beautifully sculpted body, from her toned abs, legs and arms, to her delicate hands, face, lips and ankles, and, of course, her beautifully round boobs she was almost exposing to everyone there! And you know what? That even with all that staring, I couldn’t notice any asymmetry in her body at ALL. So, don’t you dare to LIE to me. I’ll ask you again: HOW DO YOU KNOW MARINETTE’S BREAST SIZES?.”

“I- I don’t know, I just-…“. Luka had run out of ideas and immediately knew he had no escape. But he was too embarrassed to talk about Marinette’s chest with his sister. It just seemed wrong. But Juleka was not a patient girl and she was not willing to lose her time with an unclear answer.

“Look. I’ll ask you directly. DID YOU GRAB HER BOOBS, YES OR NO!?”

Luka choked. God, THAT really was a direct question. A hell of an embarrassing question. How is he supposed to say yes to that without sounding like a pervert? How is he supposed to give his sister details about how she made out with her close friend? Luka short-circuited at the thought, and Juleka wouldn’t give him any second to breathe, pressuring him further. He could notice she was grabbing his arm even stronger.

“ANSWER ME NOW!”

“OK, I did. I DID! I touched her breasts, OK!? That’s why I know there’s a slight size difference between them. That’s it, I answered you. Can I go now?” it was rare to see Luka impatient and flushed with red all over his face, but Juleka was not satisfied with that answer. She wanted to know more.

“Why? How? I need to know! Are they as soft as they look?”

“God, Juleka! Don’t ask me embarrassing things like that! I’m your brother! This could haunt me forever!” Luka had his arm still grabbed by his sister, but he used his remaining free hand to partially cover his face. “And hell yes, they’re even softer than they look…”. The musician couldn’t help but slightly smile at the memory. “Ugh… I feel like a pervert now… Don’t make me say this kind of thing, please!”.

“You know I can just ask her instead if you prefer… Or maybe I’ll ask her to let me touch them too… God, I would love to touch them…”

“Jules, NO!”

“Why? Is she your girlfriend? She isn’t as far as I know…” Luka seemed to have lost his usual cool. She got him just where she wanted.

“No… she isn’t my girlfriend. At least not yet? I think…? I mean- We really did have a private moment together but… I don’t know… I want to ask her tomorrow if she wants to date me but… What if she says no? God… I’m a mess and full of nervous. I don’t want to lose her…”

“You touched her boobs.”

“Well, that’s right but-”

“You grabbed them. And most likely massaged them. And with her permission, I assume. I know you wouldn’t do it otherwise” Juleka sounded partially angry and pretty confident.

“Well, that’s true but- “

“Did you kiss? God, don’t tell me you didn’t even kiss her before grabbing her boobs, ‘cause I’m going to punch you”

“No, I- I did… I kissed her. But even so-”

“Enough of ‘buts’! If there is a chance you are the reason she was wearing that fricking sexy bikini for at the pool, and I think there is a pretty likely, I’d say it’s pretty obvious she is more than INTERESTED in you. God, the oblivious girl didn’t even notice the pervs staring at her, she only looked at YOU and your embarrassed reactions!”

“Wait, really…? She did…? Are you sure, Juleka? ‘Cause I don’t want to be heartbroken again. Not after what happened with Adrien…”

Overconfidence wasn’t one of Luka’s main personality traits but, seeing him in such low spirits was unusual. He is mostly a positive boy, who is used to encourage people but not used to be encouraged. Good thing Juleka knew exactly how to handle him.

“JUST ASK HER OUT YOU IDIOT! My God… she let you kiss her and grab her boobs! What else do you need!? I’ll ask her out if you don’t!” Juleka’s voice wasn’t low anymore. She sounded angry and kind of… smitten?

“Wha-…!? Don’t you dare to sabotage your older brother! You’re interested in Rose!” Is she teasing me? Luka thought as he talked back to the girl.

“I’ve always had a thing for Marinette too, so I wouldn’t mind trying… If I’m lucky enough I could… you know… grab her BOOBS, maybe?” She couldn’t hide a chuckle as her teasing continued.

Luka, noticed her teasing and knew she wasn’t talking seriously, so he cooled down a little and decided to tease back, backfiring where it hurt her, but knowingly doing it avoiding any real damage. He smirked as he let his voice out.

“What the hell happened to your crying and your breast size complex, sis? I was supposed to be the one encouraging and cheering you up. Shouldn't we return to that topic? I can let you touch my chest too if you want...” Luka was talking in a sassy way, his hand over his chest.

“Ew, gross! But hey, you already did cheer me up! I’m in high spirits now! Thank you for telling me even perfection is not perfect. I feel way better now. And maybe, if she says yes tomorrow, which I’m sure she will, I’ll get to see your girlfriend’s boobs in the flesh. Don’t mind me if my hand slips and I ‘accidentally’ touch them sometime…”.

“I don’t know how I should feel about that…" Luka pouted "but I’m glad you feel better and that you’re not crying anymore.” He ended his words with a sincere smile on his face.

“You’re the best, Luka. Dumb, but still the best. Go get your girl tomorrow!”

Luka couldn’t tell if Juleka was serious or joking, but it could perfectly be both. At least she had a teasing but genuine smile on her face, and that made him feel relieved she was back to herself. She wouldn’t usually show her true self to anyone, not even her friends, so it made him happy she could express like that around him. He loved her laugh and, knew exactly how to summon it.

“YEAH! Bring it on! Rock and roll!” trying to imitate Jagged Stone’s accent, voice, tone and pose, Luka let out an unusually loud voice.

“OMG This is the worst imitation of Jagged Stone I’ve ever seen!! How can you be so bad at it!?”

Both siblings started laughing effusively, playing a little more their imitation games before going to sleep.

______________________________________________

The next day came peacefully as the light entered through the round windows of the cabins inside the Liberty, the houseboat Luka and Juleka lived in. Luka couldn’t sleep much due to his nervousness but rested well enough before waking up from the first rays of sunlight of the day. He woke up early and saw Juleka was waking up too, as the sun illuminated her pretty round face.

“Good morning,” Luka said.

“Good morning…” she was sleepy, but after remembering the previous night conversation with her brother, she immediately got cheerful and smiled at him as she got up out of bed. “Ready for today? Remember you’re not allowed to chicken out!” she teased him, giggling.

“Yes, yes… I know. I don’t want you to steal her from me” He smiled and giggled back at her, ruffling her hair. “I’ll make breakfast. Why don’t you get ready and prepare your things meanwhile?”

Juleka nodded and went to the bathroom. With their mother sleeping from the tiredness of her night-time job, Luka was normally the one in charge of the cooking. There was another reason for his cooking responsibility: the last time his mother cooked something the boat almost got incinerate, and Juleka was still terrified of fire after that life-threatening experience.

After the siblings peacefully finished eating their breakfast, Juleka was in charge of the dishes. They would always save some breakfast for Anarka, that Juleka made sure to wrap with transparent film. It was then Luka’s turn to get prepared for University. It was already his second year in Music Degree and he still couldn’t get used to it. He sometimes hated it, and sometimes loved it. He hated to ride the crowded metro at rush hour the most, but he loved composition lessons, which made it worth it. Perfection doesn’t exist, I guess… He thought, but then he was instantly reminded of Marinette, the girl he considered perfect in all aspects. ‘God bless cold showers’, he whispered before grabbing a towel.

Luka’s had to cross half of Paris by metro to reach his University. That meant he had to leave home way earlier than his sister and return later too. Still, with his delivery job to do, it would be late when he could actually get to see the girl he loved. And he still had to ask her if she wanted to meet today. Since he had some minutes left before leaving, he messaged the twin-tailed girl.

“Good morning, Marinette.”

“Could we meet today? I have to tell you something”

Marinette didn’t reply to him before he had to leave, so he only got more and more nervous. Juleka had told him she was probably still sleeping, but he was feeling uneasy. ‘Be positive’, he told himself. But classes started and there was still no reply from her, even if the ‘read’ signal was on. Negative thoughts kept his mind busy as classes went on. He would later need to ask his classmates to lend him their notes.

______________________________________________

Marinette panicked when she saw Luka’s message on her phone. ‘Is it time? Is it finally coming today? The long-awaited confession? Did he finally get my hints? God, I hope he’s not backing off and telling me he doesn’t want to see me ever again! I feel like I could die if he does!’

Marinette was in her last year of High School, but even being older now, she didn’t change much. Of course, she matured physically and mentally, but she had a WILD imagination that wouldn't let her act cool when it came to her crushes. And not only a crush, this time she was IN LOVE, which made things even worse. As her messy thoughts occupied her mind, she didn’t realize she still hadn’t written a reply to the boy she loved. And just like that, it became midday.

During lunchtime at High School, Juleka approached Marinette, who didn’t notice her: she was still immersed in her thoughts about a certain blue-haired boy.

“Good morning”

“Aah! Juleka, you startled me! Good morning” Marinette had jumped what seemed impossible from the surprise.

“What’s wrong? You seem down?” the purple-haired girl asked.

“It’s nothing…” she said while thinking about how she didn't have the courage to tell her about her older brother.

“Is it about Luka? He told me about… well… that.” she had some blush on her face, which made Marinette think of the worst possible scenario.

“WHAT DID HE TELL YOU!?”

Marinette's voice was very loud and it made all the students nearby turn around to look at the girls. She blushed and covered her mouth and the crowd rapidly lost their interest.

“Calm down, Marinette. What are you so nervous about? Haven’t you read my brother’s messages?” she asked her friend.

“I did! I’m meeting him today! He said he wants to tell me something! I- I- Do you know what it is? Tell me, please!”. Her arms were moving quickly, showing her nervousness.

“Marinette, you should have told me you cared so much about him. Wow, you two are really idiots. Take a look at this” Juleka reached her pocket and took out her smartphone, turning it on to show her friend the instant messenger app screen.

Luka: “Jules, Marinette hasn’t replied to my messages yet and I can't keep my cool anymore. I'm going crazy. Could you ask her during her free time to meet me at 9 PM at Pont des Arts, please?"

Juleka: “Leave it to me”

Luka: “Thank you, you’re the best”

"Wait. I thought I had replied!?" The girl switched on her smartphone to check her messages with Luka and noticed she had never really replied. "OMG how can I be so stupid!? I’m scared. Should I really go??" Marinette was being her panicking self, saying nonsense, according to Juleka, who was already tired from their useless fears.

"OMG not you too! Give me this". She snatched her friend's mobile phone and messaged her brother as if she was Marinette:

Marinette: “Message received from Juleka. I’ll be there.”

"Done" Juleka said, tossing the smartphone back to her friend.

"What have you done!? Now I have no excuse for not going! I can't make him wait and I have to get ready! OMG I have to wash my hair and choose my clothes and… so many things! I'm scared..."

Marinette's rambles were her usual type, so Juleka decided to ignore them and focus her efforts on the couple, trying to help them out.

"Marinette, I assure you nothing bad will come of that. You already kissed, didn’t you? It will be ok, you'll see” Juleka was smiling both teasingly and honestly.

"HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT!?" Attention from all students was on her again, as she blushed and hid her face. Her friend continued talking.

"Marinette, it will be fine, I assure you it will. Luka is not like Adrien, you know that. Everything’s gonna be alright. Trust me” Juleka's confidence and soft smile made Marinette calm down and feel better immediately.

"Thank you Juleka, you’re the best! Let me know if there’s anything I can ever do for you!"

Marinette's eyes were sparkling while she took her friend's hands into hers in a grateful way. A little blush formed on the long-haired girl's cheeks, as she smiled. Then, her smile became a smirk. 'Anything, huh?', she thought.

"Well… there’s one thing..."

______________________________

It was 7:40 PM when Luka finished his delivery errands. He would usually finish 20 minutes later, but he rushed his bike in order to finish earlier. The extra effort left him sweating and exhausted, but thanks to that, he would be able to go home and take a shower before meeting Marinette.

His nervousness hasn't stopped for any second during that day. He was scheming and considering which one could be the best way to convey his feelings. He wanted them to reach the girl's heart, in a pure and sincere way. It's not like this was his first time confessing to her, but this time was different: he was going to ask her for an answer. He wanted to ask her to be his girlfriend and only two possible answers were in the picture: YES or NO. He tried not to think about the next step after that. Juleka was encouraging him to be positive, so he couldn't afford to lose to pessimistic ideas.

When Luka finished taking a shower it was already 8:25 pm. He felt bad for calling on a girl so late at night, but he couldn't wait any longer, and, since it was early June, he knew the sun would still be out. He wouldn't have chosen this time to meet her otherwise. He didn't want her to walk alone at night around Paris dangerous streets.

The place of the meeting was strategically chosen too: close to Marinette's house and even closer to Luka's houseboat, where he still lived.

He had been planning to rent an apartment for himself for a while, but he didn't want to share it and, finding a good apartment on a budget that he could afford in Paris was almost impossible. Because of that, he still hadn't moved away from his mother's boathouse, but he was getting impatient to go live on his own: sharing a room with his sister at his age wasn't healthy for him anymore, even if he loved and enjoyed being with his sister and mother. You know, men’s needs.

As soon as Luka finished getting ready, he put a slim jacket and some cologne on, made sure his hair was looking good, and brushed his teeth. He wanted to arrive earlier than Marinette so she wouldn't have to wait for him, so he left home 15 minutes early, in order to arrive 10 minutes earlier than the accorded meeting time.

When Luka arrived at Pont Des Arts, Marinette hadn't arrived yet. Some tourists were still strolling around, mainly couples, but the approach of nighttime made them leave little by little. Dinner time was on too, so the chosen time was beneficial in that aspect too. He wouldn't like to have public when he confesses, especially if it ends up with a rejection. 'No negative thinking, damn it'.

Time felt like it wasn't passing for Luka. His nervousness was consuming him, so he decided to grab his guitar and play a little to calm himself down. He didn't succeed, and soon people had approached to listen to him. Some even tossed some coins inside his guitar case.

It was 9 pm and Marinette hadn't arrived. 'Late as always' he thought. But then it was 9:10, 9:15, 9:20... and nothing, still no sign of her. He had been playing his guitar while he waited, but as it was getting too dark, the remaining people had decided to leave. He had only stopped playing when the big arrow was pointing down on his watch.

After returning the guitar inside its case he gazed at the river, losing hope of the girl coming anymore. He wondered if he should throw himself into the river, but the view was nice and he stood up on one of the lower parts of the fence to have a better look of the water of the Seine.

"Luka!!! Nooo!!! Don't do it!!"

Marinette came rushing towards the surprised but extremely happy boy, who was also confused by her words. She ran as fast as she could in her high heels until she lost her balance, spin on her right foot and almost bumping into the fence of the bridge, and almost falling down if it hadn't been for Luka, who placed his hands over her hips and pulled her towards him to miraculously avoid any collision. Luka's pull was so desperate he couldn't control his strength and Marinette fell on him.

Marinette was panting hard from her run. She was on top of Luka, who was on the floor, sitting but almost laying down. Marinette was very close. He could tell she had spent a lot of time styling herself: clothes, hair, and makeup. And even if the race there had messed up her hair, she looked more beautiful than ever.

"You look beautiful," he said.

Marinette suddenly blushed, looking down in embarrassment… only to find the boy's hips under her, with something standing out (literally) and she couldn't take her eyes away from it. The blush on her face couldn't be redder.

"OMG I'M SO SORRY!!" she was screaming while she got up. "I'm so sorry for making you wait… I was styling myself and… I didn’t notice the time... and… all for nothing… it's ruined now…" she looked genuinely sad. "But don't throw yourself to the river, please! I don't think I could live without you! I need you!" she desperately added.

Luka had already stood up from the floor and was staring at the girl in front of him. Marinette had begged, with crying eyes ruining her makeup, for him to live for her, and he was astonished. She had just told him she couldn't live without him and that she needs him. Marinette gasped flustered in red as she noticed her words and Luka couldn't shut his mouth out of the surprise.

"Marinette, what did you say right now? Do you really mean it...?" Marinette shyly nodded, face looking to her feet. "Is it ok for me to think of it in an egoistic way… I mean… Is it ok for me to have hope...with you?" Marinette's eyes were meeting his now, opened as plates as she nodded shyly. That little nod gave Luka all the courage he needed.

"Marinette, I love you. I can't live without you either. Please, be my girlfriend."

Luka had a serious but slightly shy look on his face. A mix of happiness, embarrassment, surprise and hope. On the other hand, Marinette couldn't stop her grin from growing wider on her face.

"Yes!! Finally!!!" She said, completely excited. "I thought you would never ask. I was afraid you didn't feel the same for me after those years and I've been trying to impress you and I've been so desperate recently I can't believe it myself and-"

Luka's face only grinned his happiness as she mumbled things he couldn't hear. "Marinette" he finally called her. "Look".

The sun was already setting and a beautiful sunset had formed and reflected on the river.

"Isn't it pretty?" Said the boy, turning his face slightly over her.

"Yes… so pretty…"

Orange colors were all over their view, their eyes and faces matching with the color of the sky. Luka then took Marinette's hand softly, and linked hands with her as they enjoyed the view. After a few minutes, the light was replaced by the one from the streetlights.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Sorry I called you so late. I wish I could spend more time with you, but it's already this dark. I don't want your parents to worry…What kind of boyfriend would I be?" Luka said, still trying to assimilate his own words.

"It's ok, Luka. We have a whole life to spend together. I'm your girlfriend now and I hope that when I'm not anymore, it's only because I've become your fiance, and then your wife. I love you and I can't live without you. I really mean it."

Marinette was smiling softly and Luka was stunned by her. Not only she had confessed first, but she also shared his same feelings. He couldn't help it but feel extremely happy but also a little stupid for his passivity and negativity.

"I feel so stupid. Not only you confessed to me first when I was the one who called you here with that purpose, but you also talk as if you have stolen my words from my mouth. I feel exactly the same, Marinette. I love you. I've loved you since the first time we met and I hadn't stop loving you since then. Thank you for becoming my girlfriend. It means everything to me".

The new couple was smiling softly and Luka finally leaned in to kiss his girlfriend. It was a romantic kiss filled with pure love, leaving butterflies inside their stomachs and giving them electric vibrations on their lips. With darkness surrounding them, their senses intensified, making them feel like only them were existing in the world.

When they separated, both of them wanted to kiss again, but they were aware of the time, so they decided to hold their feelings back for now.

"I'll walk you home," said the boy, lending the girl his jacket. His girlfriend nodded in response.

They walked hand in hand to Marinette's home, while she talked about how disappointed she was she styled up for nothing and could have made better use of that time if she had arrived on time to their meeting. Luka could only smile at her rambles, thinking about how he had never been this happy in his whole life.

After kissing 'goodbye, see you tomorrow', Marinette went inside her house from the back door and Luka returned home with a smile he couldn't hide on his face.

_________________________________

Luka arrived home after a long day. He was physically exhausted, but his mind was floating in Loveland. Juleka received his brother at his arrival, as Anarka had already left to work.

"Welcome back," the little sister said, before giving him a fast scan. "I was going to ask you how it went, but your stupid grin is obvious enough. Eww, disgusting!”. She stuck her tongue out for a second before continuing “Congratulations on getting a girlfriend" she smiled, secretly happy for his brother.

"Thanks, Jules. I just can't believe it. Marinette is extraordinary. She's sweet, honest, and surprising. God and she is beautiful and her lips are made of magic..."

"Eww! Enough! Stop daydreaming about your girlfriend, skip the sugar when you talk to me. Let's talk about important things: you know you owe me one, right?" Juleka smirked as she teased her brother.

"Juleka, I owe you one. You're the best! Come here". Luka gave his sister a hug full of gratitude and fraternal love, which Juleka loved but would never recognize it all loud to anyone. Even less to Luka. She started to tease him in order to hide her feelings.

"Hey, Luka. You know? It's a B" she said.

"Pardon?" Luka blinked rapidly at the randomness of her sister’s words.

“Marinette. She wears a B cup” she specified.

"Of course you would know that just from looking…and you are a girl so..." Luka pouted a little for breaking the magic of their sibling hug.

*And listen, her actual sizes are…" Juleka had grabbed his brother's upper arms and made him go down a little, so she could whisper certain numbers to his ear. She let go of him and smirked when she became quiet.

“JULEKA. HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?" Said Luka loudly, losing his usual cool. The blue-eyed boy opened his eyes surprised and grabbed his sister's upper arms so he could look her face to face.

“What can I say? You were right! There’s a slight difference between them” she sighed as she smirked.

"OMG Juleka you grabbed my girlfriend’s breasts!? You betrayer!" Luka couldn't hide his shock.

"She wasn’t your girlfriend yet and she was in debt with me. Of course, I would take the chance" the long-haired girl explained with a victorious grin on her face.

"JULEKA COUFFAINE YOU’RE NOT GETTING CLOSE TO MY GIRLFRIEND AGAIN!" He warned her, part joking, as he knew his sister was just teasing him.

"Too bad we’re meeting tomorrow… Maybe I’ll get to explore something more… You know: benefits of being a 'girl friend'" Juleka licked her lips teasingly after finishing her words and Luka choked.

"Don’t you dare touch my girlfriend, you traitor!". Luka frowned.

"I'm can’t promise you anything."

Luka thought of how Juleka was always able to make him lose his cool with her teasing and Juleka loved messing with her brother. They both knew she was just joking, as she only had eyes for Rose, but they enjoyed the fun.

And with that, one more day of giggles filling their shared room and houseboat ended. But this one was extra memorable: for their bonds as siblings, and with Marinette too, got stronger than ever. All thanks to a pair of beautiful small soft round pair of B sized breasts and a girl’s complex.

_____________________________________________

I hope you enjoyed this, because I’m already working on the prequel :)

[bastillewolf]

The Grand Tranquility Hotel (XI)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: An eccentric hotel owner and an inquisitive writer find solace in each other when they both seemed to be at the edge of rock bottom.

Notes: Another chapter! Very happy to see you enjoyed the last one. Thanks so much for your support, it means a lot to me.

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.

@edgythought​

Chapter XI - American Sports

A soft breeze blew against the curtains, a ray of sunshine managing to slip through the cracks of the ruffling fabric. Her eyes cracked open ever so slightly, trying to let them adjust to the sudden brightness in her room. The sheets were a tangled mess around her bare frame, the space next to her cold. A note on the pillow read in a neat cursive;

‘Meet me at breakfast when you’re ready.

Yours, Alexander.’

It made her stomach flutter, and she rolled over to get herself decent.

She’d taken a brief shower, and left her room feeling more content than ever. Her feet glided over the carpeted hallway, accompanied by a slight spring in her step. She made her way down the grand stairwell, stopping only for a brief moment when she heard a familiar voice in the entrance hall.

“Miles!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around the man in question, who returned her embrace with glee. “Good to see you again, love,” he chuckled. As she pulled back, she saw a joyous sparkle in his eyes, which flickered over her shoulders briefly.

She followed his gaze, meeting the brown eyes she so very much adored. Alex wore a content smile on his face, appeased by the sight of his love getting along with his best friend so well. One of the hands that had been resting in his pockets reached out for her, and she couldn’t help but noticeably be surprised. She allowed her fingers to intertwine with his, as he pulled her closer to press a gentle kiss against her cheek.

A clatter behind the counter broke their little spell, for Nick had dropped his pen on the hard-wooden floor in his moment of shock. What made him even more flabbergasted was when he met the hotel owners eyes, which he had expected to hold the cold fury they always did when he messed up, he discovered that they only showed meek amusement.

Matt had been leaning against the doorpost of the dining room the entire time, watching the display with a small smirk. He shared a knowing look with Miles, before speaking up, “Shall we have breakfast, then?”

 She couldn’t quite express the utter joy she was feeling. There were the little things that made it all so much better; his hand hovering over the small of her back as he guided her to their table, pulling out her chair for her, and sharing the simple glances with her that told her just how much he was enjoying himself. His hand rested on her knee, sliding up to her thigh every now and then and teasing her to bits with it.

She was positively surprised at his willingness to show his direct affection towards her in front of his closest friends, and even when Jamie’s jaw had dropped to the floor when Alex had brushed a strand of hair from her face, he never once hesitated his movements. Matthew had to kick the cook under the table, otherwise he would have most likely remained in his gaping state throughout the entirety of their breakfast.

“I didn’t know you would be coming,” she told Miles with a smile. He nodded, “Honestly, it was all very short-notice. Some business was cancelled, and it left me with more time off than expected, so I decided to pay a little visit.”

“Well, we’re always happy to have you, Miles,” Alex responded sincerely.

 When everyone’s stomachs and curiosity seemed to be satisfied to a good extent, the hotel owner invited the mayor along with his lady into his office, where they had tea and to her bewilderment, started talking business.

“I think I might have found the location you liked,” Miles informed him, sliding a paper file across the desk. Leaning over, she managed to get an upside-down view of a big building, apparently located somewhere in the city. It gave a more modernistic impression, with symmetrical shapes and minimalistic architecture. She could see a big glass elevator, surrounded by neon lights, giving the building a futuristic touch. “What is this?”

“A possible extension to our hotel chain,” the mayor explained.

She furrowed her brows in confusion, her gaze pointedly meeting Alex’. The past few days had told her enough about his feelings towards stretching his business any further, yet he seemed to show a sudden interest in what his friend had to say, as if he’d expected this information being given to him. “I thought you didn’t want to expand just yet?” she questioned.

He hummed, “I didn’t at first, but when Miles and I went out to take care of business at the township the other day, we happened to drive by this particular building, and I could suddenly really see the vision of our dream hotel before me.”

She tilted her head, “But I thought this was your dream hotel?”

His lips quirked up momentarily, as his eyes wandered over to the television screens behind her, which still displayed the camera footage from all over the building and its surroundings. “It used to be,” he said, “And I wouldn’t sell it for the world. But, it’s become worn, and people are very much more interested in the modern joints these days. I’m not closing this place. I’m simply extending our range.”

She reached for his hand across the desk, squeezing it gently. “I thought you were the one to tell me that the usual folks who visit your hotel are the ones who buy paintings just to own them, not admire them.”

“I did,” he confirmed, arching his brow in silent inquiry for her to elaborate.

“If you buy this ‘modern’ building, those will be the only types of people you’ll come across.”

Miles gave him a look. “She is right.”

The hotel owner let out a sigh, tracing patterns on the back of her hand with his thumb. “I don’t care much for the general audience; I care about the bigger picture. This fresh start could be our salvation, and the prospect of being able to add our casino and spa to it makes me feel like a giddy teenager again. This is our last chance. I might as well try, because I’m not letting go of this ruin without a fight.”

Her eyes suddenly snapped towards Miles, thinking back on the private conversation they’d had when Alex had first refused his offer.

“What did you want to talk about, darling?” he’d asked.

She’d felt nervous, most of all. She wasn’t sure how the hotel owner would react if he found out she’d spilled this to his best friend without his knowledge. However, her gut told her that it was for the greater good.

“I’m sorry, Miles. I know how much Alex means to you, and I’m going to ask something of you in the hopes of his good fortune,” she told him.

He nodded, “Anything.”

“Alex needs some time to mull over the whole project. I know you’d talked about it already and made an agreement, but the state of particular affairs have withheld him from being able to live up to your expectations.”

“What do you mean?”

She sighed, “The hotel is going bankrupt, Miles. I’m not quite sure how you missed the headlines in the newspapers, but I felt it was important for you to know.”

Miles stiffened. “I- I thought those were just rumours. Alex should’ve told me…”

“I think Alex didn’t want to disappoint you,” she suggested, “It’s probably why he’s been avoiding doing business with you in the first place. I need you to give him some time. Even if it’s just for a few days.”

Miles had understood, because as promised, he’d left the hotel the very next day.

And in this moment, he looked particularly guilty. “I told Alex I know about the financial matter.”

When she was about to open her mouth to scold him, Alex had managed to precede her. “It’s alright, love. I appreciate it more now than I could have then, and I understand why you wanted to keep this private. You were just looking after me.”

He rose from his chair, moving to lean against his desk in front of her, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“I’ve had a chat with the police this morning, and they managed to trace back the accounts that had been discrediting money from us. We got it all back, plus interest.”

“What?!” she exclaimed excitedly, “That’s fantastic! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“The boys don’t know about it yet, nor about our plans. I didn’t think breakfast would be the right time to drop more than one bombshell on them.”

She blushed slightly, taking hold of his jacket and pulling him in for a kiss. “I’m sure they’ll be ecstatic.”

He smiled, letting his hands rest on her hips. “I hope so. I know the past few years have been rough on them, perhaps this news will do them some good.”

 Leaving the two men to continue their business in peace, she found herself to be more apprehensive about the project than she’d expected. She knew the risk Alex would be taking, opening a brand-new hotel with the last funding he has, and the additional pit in her stomach didn’t help calm her senses.

Her feet strode across the gravel pathways out in the gardens, and though she had to wrap her coat a bit tighter around herself against the chilly wind, she knew the fresh air would do her better than brood around the empty hallways in the hotel itself.

She eventually found herself in front of the stables, where she met Matthew running a brush over Mardy’s brown coat.

“Hello, miss,” he smiled at her, “Gotten sick of Alex already?”

She chuckled, “Something like that. Too much talk about business with the mayor.” He hummed in response, and it was only then that she noticed he wasn’t quite meeting her eyes. “Is something wrong, Matthew?”

“It’s nothing, miss,” he insisted, but she’d heard that from him before.

“Come on, it can’t be that bad. At least you haven’t lost the horse again.”

Mardy snorted, making Matt sigh. When he finally peered up at her, his eyes held a sense of worry. “Nick showed me the paper this morning.”

“And?”

“There was a big article about how Miles isn’t exceeding expectations as the mayor,” he told her, “People have taken notice how much time and effort he puts into the hotel, and want him to focus more on the township as a whole. They say he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“People have always been good at criticizing through the news.”

“Yes, but he might actually lose his job if he keeps cancelling appointments to help Alex out.”

She furrowed her brows, “I thought he said he had time off because business was called off?”

“He only says that to prevent Alex from feeling guilty,” Matt explained.

It made sense, really. Miles had been spending an awful lot of time in and around the hotel, even before she’d arrived. He was always seen at galas and gave regular statements to the paper, a fact she’d duly noted in her earlier research. She remembered what he had said to her.

“We used to talk about everything, all the time. Now it’s like he’s always too busy to have a bit of fun. I feel like I don’t know him as well as I used to, and it worries me.”

Alex had been opening up to her more and more as time had passed, and of course Miles had taken notice of it as well. It was probably what had made him think that starting the project back up now would be the best way to go. Alex was a lot more relaxed and open to new ideas, it was only fair he’d give it a shot. But she didn’t want him to be so careless that he would lose his position over this.

“So, while they’re going to be busy making plans to expand, Miles might get fired…” she muttered sadly, mulling over her thoughts. She glanced back up at Matt, who gave her a knowing look.

“I expected them to, really. I think you understand Miles cares more about Alex than his own job. It was never his dream to be mayor, and I think now that the opportunity had arisen, he wants to grab hold of it with both hands,” he said.

“Miles can’t lose his position,” she groaned, “If this plan doesn’t work out, they’ll both be in debt.”

“I know. I simply didn’t say anything because Miles can make his own decisions.”

“Yes, but he’s leaving Alex in the dark about it.”

 “She’s a bit apprehensive about it all, isn’t she?” Miles asked, leaning back in his chair. He took a long sip from his cup, enjoying the warm liquid running down his throat.

Alex shrugged. “She’s always been very vocal about her opinions. I didn’t expect otherwise. It’s a big step we’re taking, after all.”

“I’m glad you’ve found someone who cares for you, Alex, truly. You deserve to be happy, and I know how good it feels to be able to place your trust in someone. I never thought, not in a million years, that you’d find another lover.”

Alex snorted at that.

“I’ll have a word with her. I want her to know there’s no reason to worry.”

“Thank you, Miles.” They shared a tight hug, Miles patting him playfully on the back.

 Miles was very aware of the fact that he could get extremely curious. It was one of his better traits, allowing him to focus his complete attention on the things that mattered to him. But then again, they say people’s virtues can also be their downfall.

It was never really his intention to sneak into her room. The door had been ajar, and though he had knocked, there had been no response. So, he had invited himself in, planning on waiting for her until she would get back.

It wasn’t really his fault. The notebook had been opened on her desk already, and his eyes had simply wandered over a few pages.

“What the fuck?”

[justjessame]

Diamonds Are A Boy’s Best Friend Chapter 13

I took my time choosing the outfit I would wear on my ‘date’ with Sol. I was in the silk dressing gown that matched my nightgown, my hair pinned the way I’d watched the stylist had to create the style a day earlier, searching for a dress I was certain I still had. I almost missed the knock, but called out just loud enough for Lily to hear. She came in giggling.

“What are you doing?” She draped herself across my bed and watched as I struggled to find the dress.

“Looking for one blasted-” I muttered several curse words and then gave a hoot of triumph. “THIS.” I pulled it from the closet and showed her the dress. “What do you think?”

“I think you stole that design from Elizabeth Taylor,” she answered with a smile. “Sol’s not going to stand a chance.”

I studied the dress, happy to see it wasn’t wrinkled or that the delicate overlay hadn’t ripped. “I think Sol will be fine.” I took a closer look at the lace covered bodice, making certain it was still perfect. “Now, shoes.” It was an easier task by far to choose the shoes. I took one look at the heels with straps slashed across them and smiled. “Just right.”

“You act like you’re preparing for war.” Lily offered, watching as I made sure the dress was hung flawlessly from the closet door.

I sat down at my vanity and began my evening makeup. A hint darker on my eyes, darker lips, heavier perfume. Required for dinner and dancing. “Isn’t it?” I was working on my eyeliner, one eye closed and I could see her studying me in the mirror with my open one. “Dating is like a battle. You have to have a plan. You need to wear the right uniform. And you definitely need to have a goal.”

“Sounds like too much work to me.” She sighed and I laughed as I moved on to my other eye.

“Depends on the end goal honestly.” I finished the eyeliner and checked to be certain my eyes were symmetrical. “If I was actually husband hunting, then I’d have picked a more modest dress. Less is more and why buy the cow and all that.” I filled in my brow, seeing that I had Lily captivated with my explanation.

“And if you aren’t husband hunting, you go full Liz Taylor?” She asked, on her stomach, but propped up on her elbows.

“If I’m not husband hunting, then I must be looking for a way to make sure that future husband never has a reason to think the grass is greener somewhere else.” I smiled at her wide eyes. “Practice makes perfect, Lily. And I DO know who Bettie Page is, after all.”

“Did they teach that at school?” I laughed, a real true laugh.

“Some things a girl has to find out on her own, Lily.” I lined my lips and leaned closer to the mirror to make sure none of the liner clumped in the corners. Satisfied, I chose the darkest lipstick I owned, a true deep Cabernet color. Once that was finished, I started unpinning my hair. “Finishing school teaches a lady which fork to use. You’re taught how to keep the maids on task, and how to NOT anger your cook so they’re tempted to ruin your meals. Oral sex doesn’t come up in the curriculum.”

Lily grinned at me. “Why did you take your education-”

“To the next level?” I sighed, my fingers working without thought. “I saw my classmates’ parents come to school looking as though they were strangers. I heard my classmates talk about affairs and divorces. Why bother with all of that if you can head it off from the first?” She nodded her understanding. “During summer breaks, when I was travelling with whichever chaperone Father hired for me, I’d go dancing and see the interest in men’s eyes. Finally I decided, what the hell, and gave in.”

“Was it terrible?” I considered it. “I mean, my first time was just-” she looked bored at the very idea of it.

“It wasn’t earth shattering, but Max was careful and he made sure the second time more than made up for it.” And the third, fourth, and fifth I added in my head.

“Max?” I chuckled. “Where would you meet a ‘Max’ in Europe?”

“France. His first name was Maxime.” I smiled at the memory of his dark hair and eyes. His broad shoulders and the way his hands could feel like they were branding my skin.

“Your first time was in France?” I nodded. “Guess that’s why Paris is the city of love.” I shook my head and my grin grew.

“I’m not sure about love, but he certainly gave me an introduction into making it.” I had moved on to putting my curls in place. Arranging them so they looked exactly how I wanted them to. “Then there was Jack in Edinburg, Liam in Dublin, and Edward in London.” A few one night stands on the coast of France, a fling or two here and there along the way. I met her eyes in the mirror and nearly bit my lip at her shock. “What?”

“Did you get souvenirs too, or just sex?” I gave in and laughed at that.

“Who needs a postcard when you can have an orgasm?” And that set her off on her own tide of giggles.

 I was putting the finishing touches when I heard the doorbell. Lily had left, saying she wanted to see the full effect when I walked downstairs. Almost like a real mother, I thought, if only she wasn’t three years younger than me.

Grabbing my clutch and taking a final look in the mirror I went downstairs to greet my date. Sol looked amazingly unconcerned about being in the foyer of Ben “The Butcher” Diamond’s house. That was a good sign. I took the stairs carefully, seeing Lily’s eyes light up when she saw the total package I’d put together.

“Sol,” I greeted as my feet touched the floor of the foyer. “You look very handsome tonight.” He’d worn his glasses, which had made seeing my entrance easier I hoped. He was smiling as he took in my dress and the rest of me.

“Miss Diamond,” I mouthed ‘Liz’ to him and I would swear he blushed. “Liz, you look stunning.”

“Doesn’t she though,” I stifled a scream at my father’s appearance. “You look absolutely breathtaking, sweetheart.” He kissed my temple and I forced a smile back on my face. “Take care of my girl, Mr. Drucker. Be sure to show her a good time.” If there were ever two statements that could be taken together in a very dirty way, he’d used them.

Sol held the door open for me, then the car door, and as we started down the drive, I asked where we’d be having our date. Another scream built when he said the Miramar.

 He’d reserved a table that was a little more private and for that I was grateful. Maybe in this out of the way spot, Ike wouldn’t see us and come over. After ordering, we settled in for small talk.

“Do you like working here?” I asked, curious about what Ike was like as a boss.

He was taking a drink from his glass when I posed my question, but after swallowing he nodded. “Yeah, it beats digging ditches.” I smiled at his little joke. “In all seriousness, working at the hotel is never dull.” I raised an eyebrow. “You never know who you’ll see or meet just crossing the lobby.”

“You flirt.” I sipped at my wine. “What exactly do you do here?”

And that gave him the room to go and expand, and keep going. Marketing wasn’t nearly as entertaining to me as it was to Sol, but I listened as close as I could even as I felt Ike’s gaze fall on me.

“I almost had to cancel tonight,” that brought me back to the conversation at hand. I must have looked shocked because he went on. “The boss wanted me to work over, we have so many events planned, he’s been high strung with making sure everything goes according to plan.”

“I’m glad you didn’t cancel.” I offered, thinking that Ike was taking the jealousy a tad too far for a married man.

“I promised to come in tomorrow.” He smiled. “Nothing would make me miss our date, Liz.”

I felt Ike’s gaze, burning as hot as the sun, and glanced to my left. He LOOKED like he was checking on a large party nearby, but his eyes kept flicking to our table. “Could you excuse me for a moment, Sol?” He nodded with a smile. “I need to powder my nose.”

I walked through the dining room, knowing I had two sets of eyes trained on me. I stepped into the lobby and took a deep breath. Then, a few heartbeats later, he was beside me. “Liz.”

“Ike.” I didn’t look at him, but when he started on the route to his office, I followed.

The door had barely closed behind me when his hands were pulling me to him. “This dress,” he breathed and then his mouth was on mine and words ceased to matter. His tongue danced with mine and I knew it beat whatever dance Sol had planned for after dinner. Ike had my back pressed against his desk and I wondered when we moved, but then his hands were at the hem of the skirt of my dress and I knew what he was planning.

“Ike,” I warned, pulling away from his kiss. “We can’t.”

“I think you’ll find that we CAN.” He was sliding the fabric up, his fingertips burning through the silk of my stockings. “I want you to go back to dinner, reeking of me.” I was gasping as his mouth found my neck. As he nipped, I nearly ordered him to be careful of leaving marks, but then his hands were lifting me onto the desk. “I want Sol to smell the sex on you, Liz.” His tongue was checking my pulse, and I knew he felt how fast it was pounding. “Sex and ME.” And then he pushed my underwear aside and I was left wondering when he had pulled himself free from his own pants because he was inside of me before I heard another noise. “You’re already soaked, Liz.” He wasn’t being gentle and I hoped he’d locked the door because he knew how loud I could get. “Is that because of Sol?” My fingernails were digging into the arms of his jacket. “Or me?”

“You,” I managed to moan. “Just you.”

It didn’t take long. We didn’t have the time, but we most certainly made the best of what little we had. I was panting into his jacket, as he slowly went limp and withdrew from me. “Liz?” I looked up my hands still clutching his lapels. “What is THIS?” I shook my head. “Is it just sex?” I couldn’t meet his eyes anymore. “Liz, please.”

“What do you want me to say, Ike?” I finally met his eyes again. “That I love you?” His hands were cupping my face as he stared into my eyes. “Would it matter?”

I didn’t give him a chance to answer. I brushed his hands away and lowered myself from his desk. Putting myself back to rights with my back to him, I sighed. “Liz?”

“Goodnight, Ike.” I left, afraid to look back. Afraid of what I’d see.

 I begged off from drinks and dancing with Sol. A headache. Terrible pain. And he dropped me off barely two hours after he’d picked me up. No one greeted me, and I was grateful again. Because I wasn’t sure what expression I wore and until I could put myself back to true rights, I didn’t want to talk to anyone.

[asexualbert]

JoJo De La Guerra

Modern College-verse Profile

-Lighting design major

-Best friends and roommates with Elmer

-A quiet guy, until you get to know him

-Then you find out how sassy he is

-Like Davey, he's a quiet snark

-Though relatively quiet, JoJo is not a shy guy

-He is absolutely not opposed to speaking his mind

-He's both willing and entirely capable of compleatly shutting someone down with pure wit

-A pretty good cook

-Elmer taught him a few of his grandmother's polish recipes and he likes to experiment on his own as well

-He's got a particular fondness for French cooking

-Eats prepackaged ramen regularly anyways because he likes it and is fully aware how stereotypical that is as a college student, not that he gives a single shit

-His mum was born and raised in Ontario and had him learn French because she found it a valuable thing that she'd learned

-He frenches with Crutchie

-A genuinely really nice person

-But piss him of...

-Just don't do it

-You will regret it

-He will destroy you with words

-Doesn't have a great relationship with his parents

-They weren't cruel or anything but they were very strict and had a lot of expectations of their only son that he knew he'd never meet

-He was supposed to get perfect grades and become a doctor and get married, to a perfect girl of their standards of course, and give them grandchildren and never do anything that they wouldn't approve of, which included what he watched, listened to, ate, who he was friends with, etc.

-So the fact that he wanted to work in the film industry, would spend nights at Elmer's house watching action movies and eating copious amounts of junk food, and the fact that he's gay all told him that his parents would never really be proud of him

-He came out at age sixteen in hopes that they'd stop trying to set him up with girls and maybe have a chance to get a little closer with them

-They didn't approve at all

-They basically treated it as something that they could ignore in hopes that it would go away

-Though he was watched more closely and set up more often after the conversation

-They called him more often, especially when he was over with Elmer

-When he turned 18, it was clearly expressed that if he was to "continue choosing to live this way" it wouldn't be in their house

-He stayed with Elmer until they started college and he moved into a dorm

-By the end of the year they'd found an apartment together, in between their schools

-He has contact with his parents once, maybe twice a year

-It's never very personal and always ends with the same type of sentiment of "We hope to reconnect soon"

-The "As long as you've decided to live our way" is unwritten but clearly understood

-Elmer's folks are more his family than his own ever was

-But he still hopes his own will come around

-For the time being though, he's always welcome in their home and they always show up to things for him

-He isn't ashamed of his sexuality but he's quiet about it, and isn't actively looking for any relationship so he figures it's no one's buisness

-He's not the most social guy and most of his friends come from Elmer, who just seems to attract them naturally

-Anyone who meets him likes him immediately because he's got such a kind, sunny personality

-He just happens to be more introverted than his best friend and doesn't go out of his way to make more friends

-Really, he's sociable but not particularly social

-He doesn't really like parties, they're loud and no one's really in the right mind to have an actual conversation, which is much more his style of socializing

-He'd prefer to stay home with a movie and way too much junk food with just a few close friends

-Really nice handwriting

-It's really tiny with neat lines, everything very symmetrical and tidy, it's quite satisfying to look at

-It matches him well

-He's organized and tidy and likes things neat

-He's really good at English

-Tutors that subject for some extra rent money

-He was raised to be a perfectionist and that his achievements should be top priority

-He's working on unlearning that mindset and focusing a little more on his own mental health

-He's doing a really good job of it, with a little help from Elmer

-Does generally well in school and though he's no longer a straight A student like in highschool, he's alright with that because he's not killing himself for his grades the way he used to to please his parents

Albert Race Spot Davey Crutchie Oscar Delancey

[oppof11-blog]

Oppo f11 pro best mobile review 2019

A Smartphone companies try to maximize screen size it's hard to find phones without screen cutouts for the selfie cam.  But there are some more creative options making their way under the mid-range scene and will for gsm marina and this is an Oppo f11 pro review.

The Oppo F 11 Pro comes with a stunning gradient finish ours goes from blue to black to purple and though it is made of plastic.  It does look like glass the phone seems pretty durable and doesn't feel cheap even though the plastic but of course at this price point waterproofing is a bit much to ask for it.

Probably wouldn't even be possible either thanks to one of the f11 pros key features the motorized pop-up selfie cam it hides inside the body and comes out when you need it.  It isn't slow, but we've seen faster on other phones OBO did an excellent job with the aesthetics here though this healthy cam is directly in the center in line with the rear camera bump it all looks symmetrical and satisfying.

And since the crack is centered the phone doesn't wobble much on a table, of course, you could slap on the included case if you want the most stability.  Thanks to the hidden selfie cam the Oppo F 11 pro's big six point five three-inch display has minimal bezels and is not free, unlike the regular f11.

 What are the best updates oppo f11 pro?

It's an IPS LCD with a 1080p resolution here you get a great full-screen experience with pretty deep blacks and at 400 PPI content looks crisp.  Color accuracy is just average by default, but you can't improve it by turning the color slider to warm in settings maximum brightness sits at 414 it's, and there's no boost.battery life really awesome and you can use whatsapp web perfectly with this model, so download whatsapp apk today to this model if you already bought.

If you're in auto mode is OK for the class though, and sunlit legibility is excellent.  Here you can unlock the f11 Pro with the fingerprint reader located on the back it's always on and very fast, and of course, you can open your phone using face unlock.

It's a bit less secure, but it's an excuse to play around with a selfie cam and impress people the Oppo F 11 pro has one loudspeaker at the bottom it posted a score of very good in our loudness test.  And quality is excellent with a rich and deep sound plugging in headphones through the 3.5-millimeter jack degrades the stereo quality quite a lot and loudness is only average.

 Oppo f 11 storage and chipset

There is FM radio though you get 64 or 128 gigs of storage on the F 11 Pro. and it is expandable through the hybrid slot unfortunately Oppo is still sticking to micro USB ports on its mid-range phones instead of switching to USB see the f11 pearl runs Android 9 Pi with color OS 6 on top it looks a bit different from stock Android you can choose to store your apps in an app drawer or to keep them all on the home screen swiping to the left takes you to smart assistant panels which give you things like a calendar step tracker and a space for shortcuts and swiping from a bar on the right edge of the screen opens a space for shortcuts to there's a game space where you can store your games and change settings for performance and blocking notifications.

And the phone comes with some gesture options, and you can swipe up and hold the Siri synapse swipe from the bottom left or bottom right to go back.  And swept up from the meadow to go home oppo f11pro is powered by an Helio P70 chipset neither four or six gigs of RAM. this model has amazing storage even though you not need to download music this smartphone now, because Pandora apk app now helps to listen music online.

It also has a dedicated chip for All driven tasks performance is smooth with no heating or throttling issues games run well.  Especially if you take the time to tweet their settings in the game space with a four thousand milliamp-hour battery.  You'd expect battery life on the F 11 Pro to be pretty good.

And you'd be right it scored an excellent endurance rating of 109 hours, not proprietary tests the phone also brings 20 watts VOC fast charging.  It isn't blazing fast but decent we were able to charge from zero to 40% in 30 minutes the Oppo alpha 11 Pro comes with the dual camera setup.

 Oppo f11  camera and features

There's a forty-eight megapixel F 1.8 main cam with face detection autofocus and a five megapixel one for depth sensing in portrait mode.  Because of quad Bayer technology the default output of the main cam is 12 megapixels in good light shots come out excellent, there are plenty of detail high dynamic range lively and accurate colors excellent contrast.

And overall lovely processing, we did find one issue in areas of uniform colors there are noticeable patterns of noise.  You can toggle on the dazzle color mode, which uses advanced image stacking to improve the dynamic range further than HDR.

It also adds some saturation to the colors, but you lose some beautiful details.  If you want to shoot in 48 megapixels, you can do it.  But the photos you'll get are far from impressive they're just upscaled versions of the 12-megapixel ones with no improvement in detail the images we took in portrait mode are excellent subject separation works very well.

And transitions from sharp 2d focused are quite smooth these are among the better portraits we've seen flagships included thanks to the bright F 1.8 lens regular shots in low-light come out excellent.

As well way beyond what we expected for the class, there is beautiful detail low noise levels balance highlights and excellent contrast.  There's even a dedicated ultra night mode each shot takes a few seconds, but it gives you a brighter exposure and cleans up dynamic noise range is improved, and you get boosted contrast and saturation.

 Final conclusion about oppo f11 pro

But you lose some fine detail onto the selfie cam it's 16 megapixels in F 2.0, and there's no auto focus here it does a decent job there are beautiful colors in particular, and dynamic range is suitable for a selfie shooter for video the f11 Pro maxes out at 1080p at 30fps even though the Helio p7 II can handle 4k videos quality is excellent.  Though there's plenty of resolved detail accurate colors low noise and stereo sound recording GIS is always on, and dynamic range is average.

Thanks to the high-res sensor you can also shoot videos with two times lossless zoom and their quality are on par with a regular 1080p ones, so that's the Opel f11 Pro with this shiny package you're going to sell the chipset a large nacho screen surpassing battery life and excellent camera experience.

There are only a few things left to complain about the micro USB port is a bummer Plus this isn't the cheapest mid-range er around at around 25,000 rupees or 320 Euros that said if you're looking for a not free device the Oppo eleven pro is one of the best you can find right now.

[aylamoenwyb]

Made with Love

Finally finding a moment to work alone and uninterrupted in her shop, she’d drop her tool-belt on her desk and pop open her orange soda.  “Okay.  So something that shows ‘im he’s important to me.  Emperor’s know my words suck so hopefully my engineerin’ can counter some of that.”  Pulling down an old worn journal from her bookshelf, she’d find the original plans for her wristpad.  The one she used to operate almost all her personal tech, toys and machinery.  It was even the key to her place.

Carefully, she’d detail the blueprints and calculations once again.  Comparing them both, her finger and eyes trailing each like to make sure they were perfectly symmetrical she’d start to tuck the journal away and then flush a soft shy smile. “No Eli.  Give him the original you can have the copy.”  Tearing the page out of her childhood journal, she’d set the carefully made but obviously done by younger hands blue print aside, tucking the copy in it’s place.  

It wouldn’t take her long to fasten and form a strap. She made sure it was quality leather...leather that she had secretly cured and worn for him in a way he’d recently showed her for a different project.  Knowing the scent alone would comfort him.  The circuitry she already had made waiting between parts deliveries helping him with his own work.  It was easy to cover up her soldering work when she was building him construction bots to ease with some of the heavy labor anyway.  

Laying out the circuit panel, she’d attach the wiring with a careful precise hand.  Looking down at her own wrist pad, “Oh Emperor’s! I’m running out of daylight!”  Slamming back the rest of her soda with a satisfied ‘ahhh’, wiping her mouth with the back of her work gloves, she’d get back to work, nimbly fixating the solar power converter so that just a few moments of sun could give it days of running power.  

Running down the stairs from her shop, panting for breath when she got outside, the sun low in the sky this would be a test for sure.  She’d wait holding it up facing the sun, trying to feed off the even the extra glint from the water as it got lower in the sky over the sea.  In the pink-purple of twilight, she’d press the switch, her breath catching, waiting to hear the beeps that it was working.  Sighing and grinning bright as the garlean tech screen came to blinking life, she’d run back up to her shop with new purpose.  

Now all that was left was to put it in it’s waterproof and sun glare reducing casing and firmly attach it to it’s leather strap.  She was done.  Another homework assignment of sorts completed for him.  And yet, she wanted it to be more...special.  Sure, she hoped he’d be happy.  From this wrist pad that matched hers he could operate all her toys and any new robots or tech she made for him could be run from it,

But it was her welcoming him in too.  A key to her home. A piece of her mind.  Sharing her technology she’d never really shared with anyone.  And she knew he liked to take things apart to figure out how they worked, so she made sure to have the original blueprints for him too.  So he could see, and learn and read them and know how it worked without needing to pull it apart.  Still giggling she’d write in her careful tight letters,on the bottom of the blueprint. It’s okay if you need to take it apart to see it. Love, Eli. 

Still, it wasn’t enough to her.  And besides, just handing him a bracelet and an old piece of torn journal paper, no matter what they led to seemed not very...romantic.  So after grabbing another soda and sipping it, testing the wrist pad for a solid bell and thinking how to make it even more special she’d gasp and bolt up, rummaging around her shop looking for old clockworks.  Grabbing a pretty worn box from the shelf in her sitting room she always liked. 

“Make him a puzzle box.  Tuck these both inside and give him clues to the gears.  If he lines up the gears with the correct numbers to answer it, it’ll unlock and he has his present.  Oh!  And I’ll make it so he can tinker with it and reset the locks so he can really use it to store somethin’.”  Again she’d be bent over her desk, working careful and precise most of the night, until a beautiful pattern of cogs and woodwork remained.  She thought it looked a perfect mix of Yiza.  The wood and natural materials of his shipwright and heritage and instincts.  But the well worked and precision and cool of the metal gears intertwined reminded her of his interests in learning and being reliable and forward and steady and always working, much like his mind.

Turning to her doll sitting as if observing the whole time, she’d giggle and ask, “Okay so I think I five questions to open the top.  And then, another surprise one for inside.  Any thoughts Dollie?”  Waiting for her to answer, she’d glower at her, “Well you ain’t no help now are you?”  

Glancing up at the shelf above her desk she’d gasp, “Oh!  That’d work!  Okay the first gear is set to four.  The number of Starlight light strands he gave me when he realized I wanted ‘em.  Oh and next can be... first column how many flowers he’s given me, which is one and then the second column can be how many letters spell the flower type. C-H-E-R-R-Y....so six.  So second gear needs to be set to sixteen.  Okay this isn’t so hard.  What else...”

She’d have to shake her head at some impossible to gear answers, like how many times he crossed her mind, or made her want to swat him with her tail and growl, but it wasn’t long until she had each of them plotted out.  Testing the top, she’d mutter under her breath. “Four, sixteen, twenty seven, two, four.  Lights, the flower, times until I said yes, engines, and how I feel about ‘im. Just gotta write those questions down for him.”

“Now for the inside gears....”  Working the last set carefully, these were letters, and when the letters spelled, “H-E-L-I-X”  the bottom most compartment would open.  It was there, she tucked in the blueprint.  In the box it’self, she’d place the wrist panel before sealing it up and letting it rest on top of her desk. 

Only a few hours remaining now before the sun would shine through her small bedroom window, she’d turn down the lights to her shop, the strand of Starlight lights growing brighter in the dark and causing her to smile warmly at them. Tugging at her work clothes, she’d leave a trail of them across her apartment on her way to her bed, crashing out almost as soon as she fell down in a plop upon it. Only waking with a groan when her maid bot beeped and poked at her, in it’s angry robotic way that it’s task to make her bed was being blocked by her sleeping body.  

[mtnp0410]

FLAWLESS EYEBROWS IN 4 EASY STEPS  | EYEBROW 64114

It’s the 21st century and I don’t think I have to explain so much about the importance of eyebrows to your appearance. Take a look at any red carpet and you will see hundreds of celebrities who had their eyebrows either microbladed or tattooed. Our brows have an unmatched ability to bring proportion to our face, highlight our overall facial structures and frame our eyes beautifully. Unfortunately, not everyone is blessed with luscious brow hair to enhance their natural features and balance them out. If you weren’t born with beautiful eyebrows, makeup can transform the look of even the sparsest set into thicker looking, bolder looking beauties. But with busy mornings and long days leaving no time for touch-ups, wouldn’t it be great if there was a more permanent solution? You’re at the right place! The steps to incredible brows are now revealed in this article.

HOW ARE EYEBROWS DEFINED TO BE PERFECT?

The best eyebrows should be the ones that suit your face the most! You have to consider the shape, thickness, definition, length, and color when it comes to brows. Just surfing the internet to find those tips, or consulting with an expert for advice. Nowadays, most nail salons provide eyebrow services from simple to complex, such as threading, waxing, tinting, microblading, etc. Filling in your brows is the quickest and easiest way to instantly make you look more polished and put together. Before going to a permanent makeup clinic, conducting an investigation on the top-reviewed beauty salons near you is recommended. With the help of a specialist, your eyebrows will always be on point. Take a deep look at these guidelines to find out how brows can flatter your face and make your selfies pop!

STEP 1: EYEBROW HAIR REMOVAL

Permanent hair-free solutions these days are tweezing, waxing, threading, and laser hair removal technology. Each comes with its own set of pros and cons.

Threading allows for a detailed definition of the brow shape. If you're looking to add an arch or let your brows grow wild for a bit, threading can be a fast way to amp up your shape. The technique requires a threading expert to roll two cotton pieces of thread over the surface of the skin, driving unwanted hair out of the follicle. Sadly, threading breaks the hair, which could cause it to grow in different directions. The hair will grow back in faster, because hair is broken instead of fully removed.

Preparation: Be sure to call your threading salon ahead of time and inquire about their practice before making your appointment.

For those who favor efficiency, waxing might be for you. Waxing, if performed correctly, is much more gentle on hair follicles and skin. Waxing eyebrows is a longer-lasting method of brow shaping in-salon hair removal technique. Waxing pulls off the waxed strips in the direction of hair growth, but the biggest downside of this process is the pain. If you have thicker, coarser hair that grows back quickly, waxing is the best option for shaping. It also encourages thinner, softer regrowth.

Preparation: Before waxing, it is important to review the different types of wax available and investigate their ingredients for potential allergic reactions. With the proper product, waxing can be easy, but it is also vital to use the proper method to avoid catastrophic results.

Tweezing removes hair from the root and trimming is done after brushing through the brow thoroughly. With tweezing, you can pencil your eyebrows in their desired shape, and then tweeze around that, using it as a guideline. This method has an edge in that it appears to be the easiest one to do it yourself. If you don't trust yourself with a tweezer and scissors, visit a professional for a brow-shaping session every four to six weeks.

Preparation: A good pair of tweezers is a solid investment. And say no to magnifying mirrors–you will be more prone to over-plucking or messing up your arch.

If you're not happy with shaving, tweezing, or waxing to remove unwanted hair, laser treatment may be worth considering. It beams highly concentrated light into hair follicles. Pigment in the follicles absorb the light. That destroys the hair. While lasers are becoming more common and effective as technology advances, they're not exactly sensible for all types of hair removal.

Preparation: Make sure your skin is clean before every treatment. One more thing, trends come and go, and we recommend proceeding with true caution if you are planning on taking a permanent laser to your eyebrows.

Now before you go reaching for the best way to change the shape of your eyebrows, it would be best to seek the help of a brow expert. The method means a lot, but it’s really about the person doing your brows. You need to make sure that person understands the shape, and that comes from experience. The specialists are able to map out the shape that you want and can help you identify areas you may need to thicken up or grow in in order to achieve the desired shape. A good brow stylist doesn’t only shape but can lighten, darken, shape and even lift your brows.

STEP 2: EYEBROW SHAPING

When it comes to achieving the perfect brow shape, it is not as easy as it looks. Well-sculpted eyebrows complement your face and help you look younger. But, like everything in life, one size doesn’t fit all, and it’s insane how finding the right brow shape to flatter your face can improve symmetry and even knock years off. Just continue reading below to see how to take your brow game to the next level, and make sure you take what I shared with you to your next appointment

Your perfect brows depend on your unique face shape and dimensions. Firstly you need to establish which face shape you have. This will help you start to identify what eyebrow shape suits you best.

Heart faces: Try rounded brows to soften your face shape.

Square faces: Try thick, flat brows with a soft arch to soften the angles of your face and add depth.

Rectangular faces: Try slightly curved brows

Round faces: Try high arched brows to lengthen your face.

Oval faces: Try soft, angled brows to help balance your facial features.

Long faces: Try straight brows to add width to your face.

Diamond faces: Try curved brows to shorten your face.

Shaping your eyebrows is a major skill: it’s kinda like art and geometry combined because to find the perfect arch, it’s all about the angles and proportions of your face shape. When you shape your brows, they should be balanced and as symmetrical as possible. Find your ideal brow shape, accentuate your best features, and minimize makeup use. Eyebrows can be hard to get right, and figuring out the best look definitely isn’t easy, but don’t worry, the expert technicians will consult with you and offer their advice if needed.

STEP 3: PERMANENT EYEBROWS

Over a decade ago, tattooed eyebrows brought the pretty and natural looking result. However, the “tattoos” of today are a whole different game than the aforementioned brow pigmentation. Over the last few years, since bold, full brows have come back into fashion and microblading has exploded in popularity, a number of new tools and techniques have been introduced to the market offering polished-looking brows on a semi-permanent and short-term basis. From tinting and threading to microblading and lamination, the beauty industry has caught up with the demand for contemporary eyebrow treatments. It’s a lot easier now for both men and women to get the look of fuller, or more defined brows every day without having to fuss with eye pencils, gels and powders.

Nowadays, permanent brow makeup focuses on mimicking real brow hairs. That’s why microblading technique (also known as 3D eyebrow embroidery) has completely revolutionized eyebrow tattooing, and this trend shows no signs of slowing down. Unlike traditional tattoos that last forever, microblading gives you semi permanent eyebrows and helps to add the appearance of hairs to create a natural-looking, fuller brow effect. Microblading uses a pen-like hand tool with a blade made up of needles to etch hair strokes into the skin. Needles are drug across the skin, creating a fine cut where pigment can be placed in the skin. You draw the outline with a brow pencil, and then you use a specialized needle tool to fill inside the shape with strokes. The brow effect is comprised of many thin, crisp lines that are meant to mimic the natural look and texture of hair. It won't have any borders. A unique combination of dye is mixed to closely mimic the natural brow color of each client. Though the procedure sounds a bit uncomfortable, a numbing solution is applied beforehand to minimize any pain. Once done, the outcome will last up to 18 months. To prevent pigment wearing off, a retouching of the eyebrows is suggested once a year, to keep the color and shape of brows.

Someone who likes dark, full brows, and fills them in everyday, probably won’t be satisfied by microblading. Ahead, there is another brow technique which is usually a good idea if you want to create fullness and thickness in the middle of your brow.

A popular eyebrow system from ancient days is eyebrow tattooing. The most traditional tattooing methods involve the insertion of a needle or needles into the skin in a tapping motion. Tattooed brows are usually done by a handpiece machine, with much greater injury to the skin. This movement forces a lot of pigment into the skin, causing the tattoo to last. Eyebrow tattoo offers a permanent makeup solution for those who want stunning brows. This form of cosmetic tattooing, known also as derma-pigmentation or micro-pigmentation. With brow pigmentation, a regular tattoo needle is used, meaning the final product is composed of many tiny dots of pigments that create the illusion of a completely filled-in brow. Because of this, the finished tattoo is pretty much permanent, like a regular tattoo, with only a few touch-ups needed to maintain it, which saves many people money in the long run, and makes the maintenance of brows so much easier. Tattoo artists use ink while they are performing eyebrow tattoo procedure. With brow tattooing, the range of shades is limited to normal tattoo inks, whereas in the microblading technique, a blend of red, green, and other dye pigments are used to create an infinite variety of shades based on the client’s preference. There are a wide variety of eyebrows that can be produced with traditional tattooing, the most common being the following: Hair-Stroke or Feathered Brows, Soft or Powdered Eyebrow, Hard or Crisp Eyebrow.

Eyebrow tattoos are permanent. Once the ink is tattooed onto the skin it is there for life unless you go for removal procedures which can be costly. The semi-permanent nature of microblading allows patients the ability to alter the shape, color, and the size of their brows depending on what they desire. With microbladed brows, clients can change the appearance of their brow as trends change. Beauty trends aren't for women only, men can follow the trends too. Men traditionally don't get eyebrow tattooing, but men do get microblading.

Preparation: Listen up because if you decide to get your brows done, this part is very important:

Two weeks prior to your appointment stop using any skin thinners (vitamin A, glycolic acids, exfoliation) on the brow area.

Try not to take fish oil for a few days prior as it thins your blood which can tend to push out the pigment.

If you tint your eyebrows, tint it at least one week prior to the procedure.

Don't drink the night before, your pain threshold will be low if you are hungover. It’s not fun having your brows tattooed with a pounding headache.

Brow tattoo specialists will not be able to tattoo over any blemishes, sores, and moles in or around the brow area.

Getting a tattoo can be relatively painful, especially if they are placed in a sensitive area like the face. The microblading technique involves much less discomfort, especially if the brow area is numbed with lidocaine prior to treatment.

Besides the possible injuries, it is also very important to set your budget and to know your preference.

STEP 4: AFTERCARE FOR EYEBROW TREATMENT

It is normal for your eyebrows to appear very dark after the procedure. They will fade 10-50% in the first 1-3 weeks following.

Do not touch the tattooed area with your fingers right after your treatment at the salon. This increases your risk of infection. Cosmetic tattoos take between 4-6 weeks to fully heal. At this time you may receive your touch-up if any color has faded, or if you would simply like to add more definition to your tattoo.

Depending on your skin type, you may need to apply a protective and soothing balm across the brows when dry or itchy.

If you have oily skin, the wound will “self-heal” and not require any further nourishment. I suggest avoiding creamy moisturisers, serums with active ingredients and oils near the brow line as the more dry the skin is kept, the better the retention of the pigment in the skin. Anything oily will blur the crisp lines which were created during the procedure.



It’s best to avoid vigorous sports or exposure to moisture, which means protection in the shower is vital for roughly five to seven days. You should also stay out of direct sunlight. Do not scrub or pick at the tattooed area. Doing so can cause the pigment underneath to be pulled out. Allow the epithelial skin to flake off by itself. Stay away from dying or bleaching eyebrows, the chemicals could cause damage to face skin too.

Remember to schedule a touch up appointment within 2-3 months. Permanent makeup is an art and not a science. Everyone’s results will vary and you may still need to use pencil or powder.

CONCLUSION:

Eyebrows play a vital role in everyone’s faces so do not mess them up. An eyebrow studio is rated as good when it meets these requirements: certified technicians, hygienic conditions, authentic products, and smooth performances. Any tattoo, whether artistic or cosmetic, requires skill with the needles in use. Poor ability to use these tools increases the risk of scarring, migration of the tattoo, and excessive trauma to the skin. Because of the nature of the technique, microblading has a higher risk of negative side effects in the hands of an inexperienced technician. When done correctly, a permanent cosmetic treatment can be a safe and wonderful option to ease your daily make-up routine. Don’t hesitate to make an appointment with a professional beauty spa that offers high-quality permanent makeup procedures.

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

FOREVER BROW | EYEBROW 64114

1024 W 103rd St Kansas City, MO 64114

816-808-7000

hongbui40@gmail.com

[webbygraphic001]

The Art of Persuasion: How to Handle Clients With Mad Ideas

We’ve all been there. It’s 4pm on a Friday afternoon, you’re already in your “weekend outfit” (underwear and hoody combo) and you get an email. It’s Client X: Hey, erm, I’ve just had a couple of thoughts, can we talk?

Wearily, you reach for the phone.

Sure enough, the “couple of thoughts” become a rambling monologue on the virtues of asymmetric grid layout, mouse-controllable content and parallax scrolling (“that shouldn’t be too hard, right?”) which lasts for 90 minutes. They basically want this, on their budget of $1200.

If that wasn’t bad enough, of course you also know that what they’re asking for — even if you could deliver it on time and in budget — will make no sense at all to their users.

Don’t panic, here’s what you can do.

1. Make a Connection

Believe it or not, from a certain angle, there’s probably method to their madness. By discovering it, you’ll not only unlock ways to solve the problem, but develop your working relationship in a positive direction too.

Have you ever wondered why Client X wants their app to auto-play “We are the Champions” every time it loads? Maybe they’re trying to send a positive message about their company or looking for a lighthearted feel. Have they seen something similar that actually works? Are they trying to express their personality through the work they’re asking you to do?

In his book Nonviolent Communication, psychologist Marshall Rosenberg argues we can find resolution to any conflict by addressing the needs that underlie it, and urges us to start by acknowledging the other person’s reality.

Here’s how it works: don’t argue. At least not yet. Let them talk. Ask questions. Acknowledge what they’re saying. Listen. At the same time, try to build up a picture of what’s important to them at the emotional level. When you do talk, reflect back what you’ve understood. You’ll probably find the situation calms right down.

Maybe this seems time consuming. It is. But then again, so are those rambling “wouldn’t it be great if we…” phone-calls. You may as well put them to some use…

2. Sell Your Vision

From another perspective, in trying to persuade someone out of their mad idea, you’re really trying to sell them your own. As such, the psychology of selling has a lot to offer you, if that’s your cup of tea. Just remember: Your ability to sell is only as good as your understanding of the client. If you try to use a one-size-fits-all approach, it will sound naff. Invest time and effort in understanding what they really want, then find ways to link your sane ideas to it.

Be honest. Don’t try to sell something that isn’t going to satisfy. Most people will see through it, and the ones that don’t will leave the interaction feeling bitter.

Appeal to Emotion

Client X isn’t going to change their mind because of logical arguments. They’ve made their decision on a whim, a feeling. You can only really address it at the same level. Maybe they want people to respect their business: If so, use words and examples that evoke respect for your preferred idea: “Have you seen the Armani website? They’ve used more of a symmetric grid and it looks pretty strong don’t you think?”.

Pain, Problem, Solution

As any good salesperson will tell you, Client X’s unhinged desire for parallax scrolling arises first and foremost from pain, as in: “Jeez, this design is boring!”. They formulate this as a problem: “There’s not enough movement”. A (naive) solution follows: “We need more animation”.

You can use your understanding of the deeper need (more movement) to highlight the advantages of something simpler: “Yeah I see your point. We can also look at the colors and typefaces. Do any of these look more dynamic?”

Offer Choices

Sometimes, clients are challenging because they “want to be involved”. You can help them scratch that itch by offering choices, like the example above.

Tell a Story

Story is the difference between the value of my autograph, and the value of Neil Armstrong’s. You can dramatically increase the appeal of your vision by finding preferred brands that use it, or examples of work which went really well because of, say, grid layout.

3. Full Charm Offensive

Although you might feel like throwing your phone (or possibly them) out of the window, by giving Client X short shrift, you’ll probably dent their ego and leave them plotting ways to get revenge.

The more you nourish and protect your relationship with clients, the more they’ll respect and respond to you, and the easier your life will be. Here are some suggestions:

Put Your Effort in Early

By getting it right at the briefing stage, when the train-smash moment arrives, you can steer it towards a reasonable outcome.

Don’t be a Prima Donna

The days of the genius designer toiling away in secret are over: Clients want to be involved in the creative process and probably have a right to be. Co-creation in the planning stage will give the client ownership, and a warm feeling about you for letting them experience it. Once they’ve seen how complex the work is, they’ll probably be less inclined to chuck it, or haggle over the price as well.

Compromise

If the client insists on something that really won’t work, and won’t listen to your carefully crafted vision, you know what? That’s on them. You don’t need to fight it. If it involves extra work that wasn’t in your brief then say so, explain, and suggest alternatives. Work with the client. Find ways to identify what their real needs are, and work towards those. Keep track of decisions that are made, and who made them in case of blowback.

Over Deliver

Use your knowledge of the underlying (often unconscious) desires of the client to completely wow them. Go the extra mile in areas which will likely have big impact, even if these aren’t core priorities from a pure design perspective. Try to understand the client’s expectations and exceed them in any way you can.

Be Confident, not Abrasive

In most situations with clients, you genuinely are the expert. Share stories about your experiences in a lighthearted way, explain why you think that something will or won’t work. Smile, relax. Don’t be like Sheldon.

4. Be a Proper Professional

Painful as it may be, challenging clients, like plagues of fire-breathing locusts, are an unfortunate part of life as a web designer. Get prepared up front.

Nail the Brief

As well as specifying the finished product, do yourself a favor by going beyond it: discuss brand strategy. Get the client talking about their target market, and where this project fits into their global vision. Use mood-boards, even a design principles framework, to nail down hard evidence of what you’ve both agreed are the priorities. This will be important later on!

Establish a Point of Contact

Find out who will be the decision maker(s), and who will be communicating with you. Then you know who to contact when the project starts to drift towards fantasy land. If you’ve ever found yourself on a call to client X’s great Aunt Lilly who “went to design school once” and “knows all about UX”, you haven’t done this right!

Be Organised

If you’re not using a project or client management tool, you’re probably making it hard for yourself to keep track of things. With challenging clients, you’ll often need to quickly find that email where “he literally said the exact opposite of what he’s saying he said”, even if just for your own sanity.

Be Firm

Be flexible, but set limits. Use the evidence you’ve collected to make your points. Negotiate a budget increase if the work is out of spec, or politely say no if you need to. Give reasons and alternatives.

The Real Secret: Know Your Customer

It’s a cliché, but an important one: The better you understand the mad behaviour you’re seeing, the better you can influence it.

The fact is, everyone, even Client X, is coming from somewhere. Sure they’ve got a bit lost, but at the end of the day, just like you, they’re trying to reach their goals.

If you can bring yourself to find out where they’re coming from and where they’re going, you might be able to help. At the very least, you’ll keep your phone, and also yourself, the right side of the window.

  Featured image via Unsplash.

Source from Webdesigner Depot https://ift.tt/2tax4O5 from Blogger https://ift.tt/35aSGqV

[sachigram]

Infinity, With Coffee Rings: Chapter 3

((click here to read on ao3))

Craig is steadily stacking some shitty 3X6 beige subway tile up a shower wall when his phone goes off. He hums and looks over at it, wondering if it's a text or one of those stupid notifications on Facebook he gets sometimes. “On this day, three year ago you posted...” He keeps meaning to turn those off, but he always forgets.

Deciding to take a quick break, he crosses the small room to his phone, which he keeps on top of his toolbox while he works. It'd be a pain in the ass if he kept it in his pocket and dropped it in his bucket of mud or something. He works with way too much water for that to ever be a good idea.

The notification turns out to be a text from Clyde, and it's in all caps. Clearly Donovan means business on this fine Tuesday morning.

FUCK YOU AND FUCK TWEEK YOU'RE DEAD TO ME

Craig tries to think of anything he's done to warrant those strong words and can't. Well. At least he hasn't done anything lately.

What

His phone rings immediately upon sending that simple message.

“Hey, fucker,” Clyde says scathingly.

“You're feisty today,” Craig replies. “I know I'm an ass like eighty percent of the time, but what'd Tweek do to you?”

“He put his weird vegan thoughts into Bebe's brain! She wants me to eat fucking cauliflower for dinner. Like breaded and baked in a weird imitation of chicken? What's that even about?”

Craig snorts. Clyde would get up in arms about food. It's easy to forget sometimes that Clyde used to be the second fattest kid in South Park.

“Tweek is a vegetarian, firstly. And it's rude to pin it all on him. Bebe's been wanting you to eat more vegetables for years. Of course she's feeding you cauliflower. For some reason, she wants you to be healthy.”

“You never take my side!”

“Untrue. I sneak you junk food all the time, you pathetic baby.” Craig looks towards the wall he's stacking and frowns, noticing one of the tiles is drooping.

“Whatever.” There's shuffling on Clyde's end. “I'm going to kick Tweek's ass after I get off work.”

“That classifies as bullying. He's tiny. I'll have to kick your ass if you kick his ass.”

“I have cancer. THAT classifies as bullying.”

“Fuck, you're right. Okay, Bebe can kick your ass. She'd do it, too.”

“Speaking of Tweek,” Clyde says, and Craig's insides clench a tiny bit. Clyde has been acting all superior lately when Tweek's name in mentioned, like he knows Craig and Tweek text and Snapchat an ungodly amount, usually until Craig passes out because Tweek never sleeps, apparently.

“What about him?” Craig asks, deciding to work while he talks and risk any phone related mishaps. He fixes the crooked tile that was bothering him.

“Isn't it almost time to come back and see him and satisfy your little crush or whatever?”

Craig scoffs. “I was just there. Stop making it about Tweek and just admit you can't function without me.”

Clyde's pouting is almost audible. “I'm functioning. I just miss you, you asshole.”

“I know. I miss you too, honey,” Craig says, and Clyde laughs a bit. “I'm working now, though. You want me to call you later?”

“Nah, going on a date with Bebe after work. I'll text you.”

After they hang up, Craig snaps a picture of the wall he's working on and sends it to Tweek, who is undoubtedly awake and probably has been all night. Craig is starting to understand Tweek's fucked up sleep schedule and recognizes that Tweek is up almost all the time, only napping a little between shifts at the coffee shop. Then Tweek will have a day where he sleeps almost nonstop, usually around twelve hours or so, then he'll be back up to repeat the cycle. It's not healthy, but Craig can't exactly preach about healthiness. He pulls all-nighters all the time, not even because he can't sleep, but just because he'd rather finish some shitty Netflix show, or finish a job that could easily wait until morning.

Tweek replies almost instantly, like he was waiting to hear from Craig. Another of Tweek's habits is that he never texts first, but he always texts back. He probably thinks it's annoying to make contact with someone first or some other weird reason, but Craig doesn't mind.

Looks very symmetrical!

That's the whole point of my job. Craig sends. Tweek responds with an emoji, of course. Then a picture of Espresso, who is balled into the corner of his cage, sleeping. Another thing Craig has noticed about Tweek is Tweek really likes taking pictures. Sometimes of himself, but never from the front angle. Tweek will send pictures of his shoes, of half his face while he snaps a picture of something behind him. Yesterday Tweek sent a picture of Eric Cartman making rude gestures at Kenny McCormick in the coffee shop, then another picture of Cartman pointing threateningly at the camera while Kenny made a face in the background. Craig doesn't like the idea of Tweek hanging out with those guys even still, a remnant of all the trouble they caused in the past. Kenny was always pretty cool, though.

Craig reluctantly puts his phone back on his toolbox and gets back to work. The woman he's tiling this shower for is a pain in the ass, and she expects it done faster than he'd like to do it. She doesn't seem to understand the mud has to dry before he can do much. It's not uncommon to work for customers from hell, he just doesn't really possess the people skills or the patience to handle them well. He only gets work because he's damn good at his job. Everything else is background noise to him, which apparently, a lot of people don't like. He had a reputation in school for being cold and unfeeling, but he thinks he cares about plenty of things, just not things other people care about.

He finishes a few more rows and then decides it's as good a time as any to take a lunch break. He tidies his things and grabs his phone before popping into the living room to tell the woman he'll be back in a little bit. Luckily she's on the phone and doesn't bombard him with questions about the timeline.

As soon as he's in his work truck, his phone buzzes with a message from Jack, one of his fellow installers. Jack is in the area on another job and wants to meet up for lunch. Craig sighs and accepts, because Jack is okay most of the time, and Craig can always use needing to get more work done as an excuse to leave early if he needs to. They agree on a local burger spot, and Craig plugs his phone into the AUX cord so he can jam to some metal while he drives.

Jack is waiting for him when he arrives. Both of them have spots in their clothes from dried mud that won't ever wash out, but Jack's hands are actually covered in it too. Craig raises his eyebrows.

“Anyone ever told you you're supposed to get that stuff on the tile?” he asks. Jack flips him off. Craig knew he got along with Jack for a reason.

“Had some mishaps. Not a lot of sleep last night.” Jack leads him into the restaurant, some dinky little joint with the best damn burgers Craig has ever had. They order at the counter, and Craig doesn't see much on the menu without meat in it except some salad and fries. He knows exactly what Tweek would order here, probably with a hot cup of coffee, too.

“So what are you working on, man?” Jack asks when they settle into a booth. They have to wait for their order number to be called, and Jack insisted on paying this time.

“Shitty subway tile for a rich bitch,” Craig says. He takes a sip of his Sprite. “She won't leave me alone.”

“Rich bitches usually don't,” Jack agrees.

“What about you? Anything worthwhile?” Craig asks.

“Nah, stupid remodel. Barely even worth the commute, but my wife keeps wanting fancy dates, so I guess I need to keep finding work no matter how mundane.” Craig glances at Jack's wedding ring, which is clean considering how dirty the rest of Jack's hands are. Craig has met Jack's wife, Rachel, a heavyset redheaded beauty. They're one of those sickeningly sweet couples to be around.

“Can't relate,” Craig says. “The only bills I pay are mine.”

“Yeah, you should really get out more. Nice girls don't just fall from the sky.”

Craig shrugs. “Even if they did, I wouldn't be interested. I'm not really the dating type.”

“Well, no one is, until they start actually dating, jackass.”

“You should meet my friend Clyde. The two of you could really bond over me not having any romance in my life. Both of you are also little bitches, so.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Real mature. Just keep it in mind. You don't want any regrets later for not putting yourself out there more, right?”

Their order number is called, and Craig jumps out of the booth to retrieve it before Jack can, mainly because he's starving, but also to get out of this pointless conversation. Craig doesn't think it's possible to get through life without regret, but he highly doubts he'll be on his deathbed lamenting about not going bar to bar banging everyone he sees just to say he did. He's never really been into any of that, and he gets the feeling other people just assume he thinks he's better than them, which isn't true. He's had a few one night stands and didn't feel anything for any of them. It always just felt like a chore.

Jack doesn't bring up the dating thing again, and they end up talking about work while they eat their burgers. Craig's phone chimes a few times during the conversation, but he doesn't check it right away, because as good as his burger is, it's fucking messy. He finally finishes and wipes his hands with a paper towel before digging into his pocket to see who's blowing his phone up.

Surprisingly, it's Tweek.

Why does Clyde want to kill me? What'd I do?

He seems really mad!!!!!

Craig tell him I didn't do anything!

Well I didn't do anything on PURPOSE but maybe I did on accident?

Craig snorts and sends a quick response about Clyde just being a baby and not wanting to eat cauliflower. It's heartening on Clyde's part, really, because he has other more important things to worry about, and yet cauliflower is what he's choosing to be up in arms about.

“Is this the infamous Clyde texting you?” Jack asks.

“Nah. But it's Clyde-related.”

“Is Clyde the one with the cancer?”

It's a valid question, but it still makes Craig's stomach twist in knots the way people ask it like Clyde has the sniffles. It always rubs him the wrong way, and he regrets ever mentioning it to any of his coworkers, but he had to in order to dip out when Clyde needed him without too many questions.

“Yeah,” Craig answers shortly.

“But he's doing better, right?” Jack asks, and Craig relaxes a little.

“He's doing great.”

By the time Craig is cleaning up his trash, he realizes he's been gone over an hour. It's not the longest lunch he's taken, but his client is a real killjoy, and he'll undoubtedly hear about it upon his return. He says bye to Jack and gets in his truck, and he does his best to drive quickly, though he's already expecting the worst. Sure enough, the woman is waiting for him, and she gives him a real earful about how she's paying him to lay tile, not go on breaks. He doesn't bother arguing with her, as it's proven fruitless in the past, though he could remind her he's a person, not a machine, and breaks are necessary if she wants her shit to look good in the end.

It's later than he'd like it to be when he returns home that night, and he makes sure to send his boss a message saying under no circumstances should he be the one to return to her house after this project is done, even if it's his work that needs repairing. He doesn't make it a habit of hating people, but she's awfully close to challenging that.

The next few days are some of the longest of his life.

Getting up early, working later, and dealing with the increasingly hostile demands are taking a toll on him. Craig always considers himself to be pretty good at dealing with emotions, all things considered. Sure, he was an angry kid, but most kids in South Park were angry. It was almost impossible not to be. He finds himself wanting to blow up on the woman repeatedly, though he bites his tongue, because it's not worth it. He works as fast as he can, really beginning to not care about quality. He just wants the project to be done.

Normally he'd already be done with a basic shower install like this, but he keeps hitting snags that take some time to deal with. And then he reaches his quota of dealing with the lady who he begins to really despise. It's been a long time since someone made him feel anger like this, and by the time the week is up and the shower is drying, if the bitch died in front of him, Craig might find himself believing in God. She has complaints about his work, mainly because she doesn't like him either, and Craig finally tells her point-blank he's not fixing anything else, and she can hire another installer.

He sits in his truck for a long time and cools down. When his phone rings, he isn't surprised that it's his boss, and Craig sighs before he answers.

“Hello?”

“Just got a call from Mrs. McGovern. She's pretty pissed at you.”

“Yeah, she stays pissed. Where the hell is her husband anyway? Never saw the guy once this whole time. Maybe he'd be easier to deal with.”

“Her husband is the one signing the check, so you don't have to worry there. Sounds like he's always gone to not have to deal with her.”

“What a wuss.”

“You don't have to worry about going back. From the sound of it, there aren't any flaws she can find. She's just a complainer.”

“Nice. I'll see you in a bit. Coming to drop of my truck.”

When he arrives at the shop, he parks his truck and goes inside to turn his work order in. His boss waves at him to enter his office, so he does, expecting some kind of lecture.

“Sorry you had such a rough week. I'm astonished you didn't tell that crazy shrew to fuck off.”

Craig actually laughs. He can't help it. His boss, Mr. Darby, is a tall, lean man with thick glasses. He swears about as much as Mother Teresa, so it's incredible to witness.

“It's okay. It happens sometimes. Can't make every customer happy,” Craig says.

“Still. We stand behind you. You haven't had many repair calls and we all know better than to think you did faulty work.” He studies Craig for a moment. “It's looking pretty slow starting Monday, unless you want some new construction houses.”

Craig frowns. He hates new construction. It's always a muddy mess, and it's twice as long to set equipment up since there's no power or water in the house.

“Why not take some time off? You've got vacation built up,” Mr. Darby says.

“You trying to get rid of me, old man?” Craig snarks.

“A break would be good for you. I can't have you getting burned out. Besides, you can go see that friend in South Park for a while.”

Craig finds himself agreeing. Seeing Clyde would be good. And Tweek is there. Still, something is nagging him.

“I'm not in trouble, right? For her calling the shop and bitching about everything?”

“No, not at all! You're one of our best guys. This really is just a suggestion. If you want work next week, you have it.”

“Okay,” Craig says. “Then I'll take some PTO. I actually do need a break. If one more person tells me a tile is crooked when it's straight as hell, I'm going to break my own neck.”

He could call Tweek and tell him he's coming. But he doesn't. He goes home to pack a bag, and then he's driving, calling Clyde to tell him the news on the way.

A couple hours and one fast food stop later, Craig is pulling in front of a familiar house, but it's not Clyde's. He'll go there next. First he wants to see and surprise Tweek, who hasn't messaged him much today.

When he knocks, it's not Tweek who answers the door, it's his mom, who blinks at him, clearly taken aback.

“Well, Craig Tucker, it's been ages. How have you been?” she asks, pulling him into a hug. She's short. Tweek clearly takes after her, not that her husband is much taller. Everyone seems kind of short to Craig, though.

“I've been better. Is Tweek around?” he asks.

“Oh, yes. He's in his room with that guinea pig. I heard you bought it for him? How kind of you.”

He remembers what Tweek said about his parents not approving of pets, and he wonders if she's being sarcastic, though she still seems friendly enough. Either way, best to avoid an argument.

“I'm sorry, I know he said you didn't like pets. But it seems...good for him. And he's doing a great job at being a pet owner. I just wanted to get him a gift after so long apart.”

Her eyes soften and she pinches his cheek playfully. “You're a good boy, Craig. You always have been. But Tweek isn't like other people. I just don't want him heartbroken when he kills the poor thing.”

“Why would he kill it? He's doing fine,” Craig says, still in a foul mood and not liking her tone. Before she can respond, Tweek is coming down the stairs, a smile on his face.

“Craig! You didn't say you were coming!” He bounds towards Craig and is quickly pulling him up the stairs. “Come see Espresso, he's still so happy!”

“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, Tweek,” his mother calls. Tweek nods and yanks Craig into his bedroom.

“Sorry. I hope she wasn't lecturing you about Espresso. She's been a real jerk about it. Dad, too.”

“It's okay. I didn't mean to cause trouble, but I guess I've done worse, slightly more illegal things than buy someone a damn guinea pig,” Craig says. Tweek scrutinizes him.

“What's wrong?” Tweek asks.

“Nothing. I'm just tired. And your parents treating you like an invalid makes me mad.”

“It's more than that. You kind of just came out of nowhere, not that I'm complaining. I like having you here! But you seem...upset.”

“I had a bitch of a week. It doesn't matter though. It's over now.”

Tweek fidgets a bit, and then he does something so fucking cute that Craig practically has an aneurysm. He shuffles forward and pulls Craig into a hug, patting his back.

“It's okay. You can talk about it with me. I always complain to you, but you never tell me about how you feel. I'm good at listening!”

Craig laughs, hugs him back, and leans entirely against him.

And he talks.

***

In the aftermath of bitching about the woman, his busy schedule, and everything else he's been thinking about lately, he decides he does feel better. It's not that he's against talking about feelings and shit—he knows people have feelings. It's just that he usually can block everything out and focus on what matters, which is work and being there for Clyde.

“But who's there for you?” Tweek had asked, and Craig didn't have an answer. He doesn't like bothering Clyde when he has so much going on. And he knows Clyde would hate knowing that, so he never mentions it.

Jesus. When did everything get harder?

Tweek disappears for a while when dinner is ready. Craig already ate, so he decides to just chill in Tweek's room and wait for him. He doesn't think being at the table with Tweek's parents is a good idea right now. He knows they love their son, but their ideas really stunt him, and Tweek doesn't even know it. Craig's always found them screwy.

He lays on Tweek's bed and closes his eyes. And when he opens them, he finds it's hours later, and he passed the fuck out.

“You're up,” Tweek says. He's sitting on the floor with Espresso. “You were snoring.”

“Shit—I don't even remember closing my eyes. What time is it?”

“Around three in the morning.”

“Of course you're still up.” Craig groans and rubs his eyes. “Clyde is probably freaking out.”

“No, I texted him you were here. He said he was going to bed a couple of hours ago.” Tweek picks up the guinea pig and deposits him on the bed, and then sits beside Craig. “You can go back to sleep. You still look really tired.”

“Says the insomniac,” Craig counters.

“Yeah, but I'm used to never sleeping. Besides, I was going to go to sleep soon anyway! Want me to take the floor? I think we have extra blankets.”

“Nah, dude, your bed is big enough for us both. Unless you have like...a phobia or something. I don't wanna make you uncomfortable.”

Tweek laughs.

“Funnily enough, you haven't made me uncomfortable once yet. We can both take the bed.”

He puts Espresso back in his cage, and then turns off the light before he climbs into bed beside Craig. There are glow stars on the ceiling that glow faintly, and it's endearing in ways that make Craig's chest clench.

“Goodnight,” Tweek says, and he has his back to Craig. Craig scoots closer to him and throws an arm around him, uncaring of any and all implications.

“Night,” he says. Tweek doesn't move away.  The sounds of Espresso moving around in his cage remind him of Stripe so long ago, and he falls asleep easily.

[marvelandponder]

Look How Far We’ve Come

Welcome to Year of the Pony’s second regular series (aside from the editorials), The Elements of MLP! Every month, we’ll be looking at one aspect of Friendship is Magic in some degree of depth to explore all the different parts that go together to make MLP what it is.

Part of the reason I started this year-long event was to get to the bottom of why I love this show so much, so maybe looking it piece by piece will help me appreciate the whole better.

This month, we’ve got the Element of Design and Animation, one of my personal favourites.

And, I’m not alone! So let’s go through the whole gosh darn process (or at least as many stages as I’ve got something to say on)!

Design

In the beginning, there was Lauren Faust.

If you only know one name from behind-the-scenes, it’s Lauren Faust. As MLP:FIM’s creator, she lead a lot of the development that made the show what it is visually (and in other areas, too, of course).

So, yes, Faust had an immeasurable influence on the design choices. And, because of her genuine love for My Little Pony as a kid, so did previous generations of MLP.

Figures that AJ would be the one to change the least during development (never change, AJ), but here they are: The old school Mane 6! As you probably know, all based on characters from the franchise’s history!

You’ll notice that even though the colours themselves varied, the pastel colour-scheme overall was there from the start, and it’s largely because of the franchise's roots in the 80s. 

*Correction: Silver Rain on EQD pointed out to me that the cartoon commonly thought of as G2, My Little Pony Tales, is actually still G1. There is no G2 cartoon (generations are defined by new sets of the toys, not the cartoons or feature films, so even though Pony Tales is very distinct from the first two movies, it’s still G1)

The closest thing to a G2 anything besides the toys is a video game, but for this analysis I decided to keep it strictly to television and movies. So, enjoy knowing G2 is a lie!

See how the first two generations looked a bit washed out? And the next two are sort of over-saturated? In addition to looking cleaner because digital animation v.s. traditional (neither is better), G4 strikes a balance between the different colour-palettes of the franchise in a really comforting, visually satisfying way.

Soothing is probably the best word, which expertly matches the breezy, light-hearted, and loving tone of the show.

So, anyway, even after development went on, as changes were made, notes were taken, and the world we’ve come to know took shape, the show’s roots still have a surprisingly big influence on its visuals.

And my god, can we all take a second to appreciate these designs?

Every element---from characters, to creatures, to backgrounds, to that storybook thing they keep doing---make this show a visual treat. For several reasons:

Cute - the ponies are round; there are very few sharp points in their designs and that combined with the classic big eyes + cute tum + small nose and mouth = cute, makes them even freaking cuter 

Instantly Recognizable - there’s a rule popularized by Simpsons creator Matt Groening that if you can recognize a character in silhouette, that’s a good design; even besides the fact that they’re ponies and you could tell them apart from human characters, there’s absolutely no doubt who’s who---I could even name the side characters if you tested me

Conveying Personality - You can tell most character’s personalities from the minute they walk on screen---take Starlight Glimmer, for instance; the first shot we see of her, she’s got kind of a 60s hairstyle, so before she even opens her mouth, you can guess she’s either got some old-fashioned ideas, or more accurately, she’s in charge of this weirdly cheery village (ever watch, well, pretty much anything from the 60s? Those fake smiles in Starlight’s village would fit right at home); her false-belief of what will make ponies truly happy is reflected in her design, and not only that, she used to have straight bangs to instantly cue to the viewer that this is a character who’s going to parallel Twilight (especially when she’s screaming about ‘creating Harmony’...)

Simplistic - Most of these designs use thick outlines and soft colours to emphasize just how cute the horses are; in relation to the backgrounds and other creatures, they easily draw the eye because the other elements are more detailed but very rarely have outlines.

Asymmetry - You’d think it would be more satisfying to an audience to see characters with symmetrical designs, but not so, and this is reflected in every single character design in the show (as well as most building designs: the Golden Oaks Library, Canterlot Castle, Cloudsdale, etc.); even Twilight, who’s bangs are cut straight across (according to the EQG universe), has a curve to her mane, highlights to the left, and a small part on one side

All of these aspects and probably more give all the designs a strong visual impact, while also making them cute as heck.

I don’t think I can say it better than this: these designs are so sweet, distinctive, and inviting that the fandom latched onto and created entire backstories and personas out of background characters. It’s like Bobba-Fett from the Star Wars franchise---in reality, he’s barely in the films, but because he managed to grab so many people’s attention with his surprisingly memorable design, he’s one of the most popular characters!

And, you know, I’m not going to lie to you. Part of the reason this show is so comforting to watch is just the soft colours and incredibly cute characters. It really is just soothing to look at. But there’s more to the visuals than just cute, pretty ponies.

Movement

One of the things I remember hearing back when I first came into the fandom in early season 2 was that some fans were downright shocked that MLP was animated in Flash--- a program so cheap and hard to animate in fluidly that most shows and projects that come out of it tend to look ... shoddy.

Which isn’t always the case, of course, good shows have been animated there, but I would say that, on the whole, shows animated in Flash seem to have great designs but less focus on fluid movement. 

Like, even if you’re not an animation nerd, if I list a bunch of shows you animated with Flash, you might notice a kind of a pattern in how they move (of the ones you know):

Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends

Johnny Test

Total Drama Island

Hi! Hi! Puffy Ami Yumi

Yin Yang Yo!

Kappa Mickey

Dan V.s.

Archer

The Gravity Falls pilot (the rest of the show was animated in ToonBoom Harmony, the same animation program My Little Pony: The Movie is being animated in!)

It’s a hard quality to describe for me, but the absolute best example probably is the Gravity Falls pilot:

See how everything looks exceedingly flat (even for 2D animation)? And how each movement tends to have this weird, unnecessary (for lack of a better word) pop to it?

That’s what Flash is known for. 

I’d like to take a second to say it of course doesn’t make all of those shows bad at all; and in fact, there are a number of shows besides MLP that actually use Flash well (to the point that you wouldn’t know it’s animated in Flash).

Bob’s Burgers, Archer, Sym-Bionic Titan, The Amazing World of Gumball, even Fairly Odd Parents as of the 10th season.

I think it’s mostly just the fact that at the time we didn’t know many shows that could look this good and still use Flash. 

The exciting thing is that MLP doesn’t move like that. Season 1 had its moments of animation flubs, sure, but I’ve re-watched it recently and it is animated pretty well.

A lot of moments will have a snap for emphasis (like, the manes will move how they’re supposed to), but it’s handled in a natural way that doesn’t distract from the movements we’re actually supposed to focus on.

And, no, it’s not the most sophisticated, beautiful animation out there, but it can run the gambit from snappy comedic timing to slower, dramatic scenes.

I think the only problem I’ve really noticed with G4 animation is whenever characters run in Equestria Girls.

I know, that’s really specific. I don’t even have a problem when they walk, it’s just when they’re running that it looks the most like the cheap Flash animation. It’s a hard quality for me to describe, but rewatch a scene where they have to run at all, I’m serious. It’s almost a pet peeve at this point.

It’s a hazard of the genre, I suppose. Like most Western animation, MLP focuses most of its time and energy on expression and the smaller movements as opposed to big, involved battle sequences or choreographed action (the only big battle sequence is the Dragon Ball Z Tirek fight, which was done super well, but is still a rarity in this show).

Meaning, some of the most unique bits of animation come in the form of expressions and reactions. 

I always love these. Not for the meme potential (although... ), but because I know every time I see a face like that the animators went out of their way to make something distinct and insanely expressive. 

And that’s not the only way they bring the visuals together. I could probably go on and on about things like the shading and lighting, the staging, the intelligent use of background to hide gags or references or just add that much more depth to a scene...

But, seriously, I’ve already eaten up so much of your dash.

I will say this, though. Friendship is Magic’s style is more gorgeous, fitting, and creative than you might think at first. It’s why the artistic side of the community exploded, and still hasn’t stopped growing. And the continual improvement in this element alone is enough to get me excited for the next season. I’ll admit it, it’s one of the biggest reasons I always look forward to seeing more. 

Woo! That’s a wrap for this Elements of MLP, but I’ll have a new one for you every month this year! In the meantime, you can always check out the editorials, or, you know, whatever. I’m not gonna tell you how to live.

Year of the Pony

Header Image Only Possible Thanks to...

Elements by SpiritoftheWolf Elements by TechRainbow

Two really talented vector artists that were awesome enough to make this stuff! You’ll be seeing their names at least 12 times this year, so might as well check ‘em out now!

Pretty Pastel Ponies Practically Prancing ... Politely? Parallel? Perfectly?

[bepresent10]

The Spanish lover

                                            No more heartbreak

 I am the only constant person in my life. This realization struck me with pain at first – that is my painbody wanted to grip it, hold tight onto it and ride on it to satisfy its addiction to pain. It would have been easy to slip back into the old habit of self-pity, but I acknowledged with amazement that I am in a place where it is even easier to associate a new thought, feeling and attitude with the above statement than to be depressed and complain about it. Now, by reminding myself of it, I feel power, stability and even excitement.

People, situations, experiences are constantly moving in and out of my perspective, forming and reforming my ever-changing horizon. Only one factor remains unchanged: me as a witnessing presence. I am present as an unbiased witness with infinite, unconditional curiosity and love, devoted to life with all of its possible aspects. It is my task to filter, interpret and invite happenings to my life in a way they serve me. Therefore whatever events I observe unfolding through the will of others do not have to influence the way I feel. I am the creator of my reality, since I am in charge of my feelings and thoughts.

Charlie knows that. Maybe not conceptually, but as he would put it, he knows it with his stomach. He trusts me, that is why he left me. And I love him for that too.

He appeared in my life almost two months after Tristan left work. As we were introduced he said “I am Carlos” we shook hands and I had to repeat it out loud for myself, otherwise names slip my mind fairly easily. “Carlos” - I said therefore. He retorted instantly: “Carlos as well?” The speed and serenity of his reaction spiced with his adorably harsh Spaccent poignantly surfacing in these three words made me laugh. I knew I liked him. The meeting was arranged to make video recordings of me playing and singing Regina Spektor songs. A friend of his (my former colleague) was handling the sounds while he was standing and walking around with the camera filming me. Being a professional photographer he gave me the deep and intense look of photographic focus. He transformed me to an object of art. I was a muse, an inspiration, and I loved it. His look made me feel like he already knew me. It was natural for me to return his glance. I took pleasure in resting my gaze upon his nicely shaped symmetrical face especially enjoying the firm line of his nose and the delicate rounding of his nostrils. I relaxed in his gaze upon me. When I was not singing we joked with each other spontaneously, sharing a particular sense of humour and having a similar way of self-expression. He came unusually close to me physically too, hugging me frequently in a rather intimate manner stroking over my shoulders, taking my hands – and eventually kissing me on the neck by saying Good Bye.

If it were anybody else I would have rapidly pulled away pinning down my boundaries. I would have refused to look into his eyes for minutes to show that I am not willing to bond on this level on the first brief encounter.  I heard the question in my mind: “Why don’t you pull away? Why do you let him touch you like that by meeting you for the first time? You don’t even know him!” “I don’t know. I like him. And I trust that he likes me too. So I am not lying with my body letting him close.”  

I wanted to meet him again. For his suggestion we agreed on a future voice lesson as an offset for filming me. He was interested in learning classical voice techniques.

In the following week I had to leave for Hungary for 10 days. After I returned to Scotland I fell sick and could not sing for weeks. Since he messaged me in the meantime for an appointment I got in touch with him at the end of September. We met on the same day. On the day I signed up for the 5th online dating site and initially invited another guy over for cake and tea who came back to me with a polite rejection in a FB message first after Carlos left.  I had incidentally baked a potcake the day before after unexpectedly discovering a tube-pan in my suitcase a German friend of mine left me when she moved from Edinburgh.

Carlos arrived at 5 o’ clock. I prepared only for a lesson purposefully leaving my looks casual wearing my leisure suit – I did not even wash my hair. I wanted to avoid giving the impression that I cared for him in that sense and that the possibility crossed my mind that the lesson could potentially turn into a date. For 7PM I had already scheduled another meeting with my girlfriend Dewi, offering her the cake as well. Yet Dewi called me at half past six that she could not manage it that night anymore being so exhausted after her business trip. In retrospect I guess I never felt more thankful to anybody for calling off a meeting.

Carlos stayed. We ate cake and drank tea. He brought his own guitar and sang his own songs. From a medical point of view he was systematically destroying his vocal chords – but I loved it. I sang him Vocalise from Rachmaninoff (I never sang this piece for an audience before and wanted to give it a try). He listened to me with his eyes closed. He listened to ME indeed. We talked about music, books, belief-systems, spirituality and he insisted on giving me a third eye massage. The third eye is the 6th chakra said to be connected with spiritual sight and intuition, located on the forehead between the eyebrows. I thought “well we meet for the second time and you want to hold my head in your hands – my unwashed head. I don’t look good I probably don’t even smell nice, but what the heck. It is just a massage on the head, isn’t it?” So I went for it anyway because I was curious what comes out of it. And well what came out of it eventually was that he stimulated quite powerfully all of my lower chakras – I was not certain whether I experienced the opening of my third eye, but thanks to him I see now things in a way I have never seen them before. This supposedly less than 1% solid matter of my body evaporated and transcended into something lighter than air by his touch. The bare idea of me was afloat, and I was watching and sensing it from another dimension. He was stroking over my face and kissed me on the lips.

Still being in the living room we got involved only as seriously and heavily as I still found it appropriate in a communal area with a baywindow with no blinds facing the opposite block on the other side of the street. At around 11PM we called it a night after I refused to go with him to the party he suggested me to accompany him to. I was tired and hungry and wanted to take a shower – and bask alone in the sweet memory and promise of the evening. In spite of my tiredness I felt fully charged energetically. At the same time I was confused. What was it all about? Does he want to see me again? Did it mean anything to him or did he just play out a habit of relating to most women almost automatically? Can I trust him?

Two days later I contributed on a venue for contemporary Scottish literature in the bookstore of my friend Jenny. I performed pieces of my classical repertoire in two 15 minute blocks. Carlos was supposed to come for the first one – only he did not. I had the strong feeling in advance that he wouldn’t, yet I still felt so disappointed and sad and angry that during the recital while the authors were reading passages of their own works I was struggling with my tears and all I heard was “It was all just for your boobs. You are a piece of meat. You allowed him to regard you as such; therefore you deserve to be treated as such”. This malicious speculation reflected my inner state of insecurity and lack of confidence infused with the beliefs bequeathed and deeply engraved into the collective consciousness of my Catholic family through generations - and had nothing to do with the motivation or feelings of Charlie (and even if it had by chance, this is not the point!). I knew I do not have to believe this voice. Still, this voice drowned out everything else (except for my awareness of it) and I was in pain. When I was singing I was fully focused in my activity and enjoyed it as much as I used to enjoy it other times – but as soon as I sat back to my place the stream of bitter, self-loathing thoughts came to the foreground again. I was not angry with Charlie. I was angry with myself. Or initially I was angry with Charlie and judged myself so harshly for it that I turned my anger towards myself instead because I still found it more ethical to be angry with myself than to be angry with someone else.

He apologized in a FB message for not attending. By the casual manner of his writing (considering his style and the delay of his response) I knew that I am not as important to him as I wished to be, also acknowledging the fact that his feelings and his behaviour are out of my control. I felt frustrated and tried to justify my frustration by calling him a jerk who basically reduced me to a body and was only after finding an object for his lust. The other part of me, the silent watcher and listener knew at the same time that the tactic of blaming won’t work for long. This part of me also knew that no matter what: ultimately I still love him. Regardless of what he does or misses to do to me. After all: love is the ultimate reality. In the next two weeks we have been messaging sporadically. By manipulating my own natural reaction time (I ignored his messages for days which never happens when communicating with friends) I was trying to mask my attachment to his reactions. I was riding this roller-coaster of hopeful excitement and fear, of joy and despair. When he neglected me for days I started to curse him knowing that it is pointless and that I just distract myself from my own issues pretending that my inner state of being is dependent on his actions. Pretending that he is responsible for how I feel about myself. It was strange to experience the split between my ego and super ego on this grade of tangibility. I watched the devil acting up in me and I knew it will be over. I knew it will be over the latest when I meet him again in person. I knew I could not look into his eyes and realize anything but love.

He suggested the next meeting and I instantly agreed.  Even as I had asked him, he preferred to avoid to say whether he planned to come for a singing lesson or should I expect something else? He came to my place and we started singing. I felt extremely confused since after the last occasion I decided to charge him for the following lesson – and wanted the payment in money and not in sex. But for the start I just took on whatever he wanted, and he wanted to sing. I could barely resist the urge to touch and meld with him and took real effort to remain as professional as I could under the circumstances given. We went through some exercises while I was forcing myself to concentrate solely on how he was singing to help him with my instructions. Then I offered him tea and ice-cream for refreshment and showed him my room to take a small break. There I found myself in his arms again and willingly gave up on my power to push him away. I could barely say that I did not think  classical vocalist classes were supposed to run this way and I would prefer not to give him any further lessons if this was the way we end up each time… … He asked me not to think, just be. What he did next was so wonderful that only by conjuring it up (even after more than a week has passed) my facial muscles almost cramp from my inerasable bright smile. I pulled him to the floor and we got very close to make love. He led my hand to his penis and after a while gently pushed it away. We were still cuddling when he said: “I am afraid we have to stop here, Bella, I am actually seeing someone else.” Perfect timing I thought. I released him from my embrace and turned my head away sinking my face into the broadloom carpet. He continued: “I met her shortly after I met you for the first time. We started seeing each other kind of parallel to you. With her it called for me. You caught me in a transitional period after my ex and I broke up…” -   My attention partly drifted away from his story. I still grasped the meaning of his words and could have repeated them literally but the greater part of my inner focus was reaching for the aching corner. For this familiar, dim and cosy place in me, where I can just wrap my hurt around myself and indulge in it. Only, this time I did not find it. Everything was bright and wide open and I could not hide. I could not hide from the fact that in spite of the input of Charlie’s narrative sifting through my intellect, I still felt almost ecstatically happy. I kept my face pressed to the floor, away from him, but he – stroking over my head - asked me to look at him: “Talk to me, please! What do you think?” I had no choice but to reveal my face still glowing with the joy of his presence. I looked into his face, purely, with no thought. This was all wording in me: “You are beautiful and I love everything about you.” I did not say anything out loud – I was speechless. He noted “I have just told you what a bastard I am and all about the jerkish things I did in the past to women and you still look at me with love.” I could not help it, this was all I felt.  At the same time, as if someone had pulled out an old reel, I noticed a series of negatives flashing in a distant light, containing samples of pre-programmed judgements, reactions and labels, all suggesting possible ways of relating to Charlie’s confession – but I did not choose to blow up any of them. I was not interested in narrowing down my newly discovered expanded reality to a single image, forming an opinion. The reality was love beyond all opinions, comments, judgements and feelings. Unconditional, all-inclusive love and appreciation, not just for his person, but universally, for being – for the being of all beings.

Later, after we parted outside and I was on my bike to Tesco’s I sensed the shadow of grief passing over me when the thought emerged “I won’t hold him in my arms ever again – this was a fleeting experience and I most likely won’t contrive replicas of it any soon”. Then the knowing part reminded the thinking part that eternity is experienced in each fully lived moment (so I visited eternity with Charlie). It reminded me that time spans only have relative value regarded from the limited human perspective. That for Source - which is the essence, origin and destiny of all beings - thousand years equal a moment, and a moment equals thousand years. That life is always in the now. That life is timeless, and experiences and circumstances are interchangeable. That it is a never ending game and that the less attachment I have to specific co-f-actors, the more fun I have with creating my own reality allowing my horizon to grow broader and broader offering more and more variety of components to select from and play with.

                                                              - 

It seems like Carlos receded from my physical experience for now. He left me with the present of a major shift. Telling me about how he used to go from girl to girl like the bee flies from flower to flower, I - instead of formulating a moral judgement (blowing up one of the negatives) - was genuinely fascinated by his ability to feel intense appreciation for so many, expressing it through erotic interaction. He truly is a lover of women. His countless expedition-tours conquering women were not - in the first place - propelled by his bodily urges: he was driven by a higher desire in the hierarchy of aesthetics; by the desire to explore female beauty in its utmost complexity and variety. Using the body as a tool and transcending it at the same time, reaching beyond the territory graspable with senses and conceivable with words.

I always thought of Tristan as of a natural lover of women too; he just chooses not to live it – on the surface. I reckon this might be one of the reasons I had to encounter both of them. I wanted to enjoy and admire men as widely and generally – as all encompassing: similar to them, voluptuaries of the opposite sex. I made a huge step forward in this respect. I started enjoying male company, what more, the mere presence of men as I never have before. Along with the practice of mindfulness and body awareness my sensitivity gradually built up and refined to perceive the vibrational exchange with an unprecedented accuracy that occurs when interacting with others. I can clearly sense the difference in my own energetic charge according to whom I let into my personal space – and whether it is a male or a female. I am aware of the immediate shift in my energetic balance when talking to men, and I find it very pleasant.

As for myself I know that it is not necessary to make a sexual connection to men in order to engage in energetic co-production with them or to cherish their unique beauty. I still cannot part my soul from my body and if I begin to share my body I have to share all that I am as a logical consequence. I must share quotes and songs with the person I make love to – I must introduce him to my thoughts, and discuss my taste in music, literature and art. And all of that in big volume (at least initially) and frequently. And vice versa: the other person has to make an intellectual and emotional impact on me so that I feel excitement and inspiration by whatever he says or introduces me to. This is why polyamory, casual sex with beneficial friends and one night stands are still not an option for me. Sometimes I wish they were – since I have to deal with my hormones like anybody else – but they are not.

 Do you want romance?

 When we were lying on the floor, Charlie asked: “It depends on what you want. Do you want romance?” I never asked myself the same before as I have never regarded it as a question of subjective preference or choice. I thought all humans were inherently determined to long for romance since this longing is as much of an integrant part of the human nature as mortality is. I was also convinced that those who refuse to have this experience when the opportunity presents itself and claim not to have the desire for it are fooling themselves, subconsciously trying to avoid disappointment and putting up emotional barriers as part of the automatic self-defence mechanism. I do not know what Charlie understood under “romance”, but at the moment he asked me I grasped the essence of the term in the criteria of exclusiveness. I associate romance with the belief that “I found the ONE who amongst all men is exclusively special for me – and I, amongst all women, am exclusively special for him. We are predestined for each other as soulmates.”

I always thought of Tristan as of a soulmate of mine. I never experienced being so much in accord with anybody else. This is why the apparent untimeliness of entering each other’s lives (with him being in a long-term relationship) affected me with excruciating pain. Of course there is no “untimeliness” in a perfect universe that is functioning like clockwork. I “accidentally” bumped into an Abraham-video that explains the “soulmate-phenomenon”. Abraham says that one of the most frustrating experiences is when you meet a soulmate of yours but you (one of you or both of you) are not in vibrational alignment with what your soul was asking for. In other words when someone enters your experience for whom you were asking for, and you – because of your hindering beliefs and lack of understanding or confidence - are not ready to receive him or her yet. Abraham encourages us to match up our vibration with our desires, meaning, that if we long for a meaningful relationship filled with joy, humour, sensuality and inspiration on all levels then first we have to find these qualities in ourselves, amplify them and feel into them until they come to fruition in the manifested world bringing the lover we wanted – and enjoy the process. He/she also says that there is not just one soulmate for each of us, but there are many more around for everybody and with vibrational fine-tuning we will draw them into our experience.

There is no need for the desperate search for a needle in a haystack.  Charlie was an example, a confirmation for that. Triggered by the conversation with him now I refuse to believe the myth of exclusiveness (I have never seen it as a myth or a dilemma up until Charlie challenged it). I do not want to have a romance in the sense of possessive love and emotional attachment tempting to define myself through the special one on my side. “For me being with someone is about practicalities” stated Charlie plainly. Again, how I interpreted it for myself was: “there are many wonderful women – ultimately I have to choose and settle for the one most compatible with my lifestyle and try to be faithful to her”. It was the un-, or even anti-romantic statement by definition, and I took comfort in it. In fact it produced in me a change of paradigm. He mentioned, this other girl fits into his world more than I do – she knows his friends and can handle (at least to some extent) his passion for other women. “She is really good for me.” I believed him and was glad for him.  I regarded it as a stronger and more significant pronouncement than “I love her”.

“Men who pursue a multitude of women fit neatly into two categories. Some seek their own subjective and unchanging dream of a woman in all women. Others are prompted by a desire to possess the endless variety of the objective female world.

The obsession of the former is lyrical: what they seek in women is themselves, their ideal, and since an ideal is by definition something that can never be found, they are disappointed again and again. The disappointment that propels them from woman to woman gives their inconstancy a kind of romantic excuse, so that many sentimental women are touched by their unbridled philandering.

The obsession of the latter is epic, and women see nothing the least bit touching in it: the man projects no subjective ideal on women, and since everything interests him, nothing can disappoint him. This inability to be disappointed has something scandalous about it. The obsession of the epic womanizer strikes people as lacking in redemption (redemption by disappointment).” /Milan Kundera: The unbearable lightness of being/

Kundera must be right. I most likely was not touched by Charlie in the subjective-romantic sense, but he certainly inspired me, winning my objective admiration for being the powerful, authentic man he is; consequently following his stomach (he emphasised “not my heart – my stomach” - I suppose what he meant was gutfeeling) and going for the things he wants, regardless of what anybody else might think. I took the boost he offered for my life with delight and hope to use it for the best.

Tristan is in the latent phase of being a lyrical womanizer, while Charlie is trying to leave his active phase behind as an epic womanizer.

Meeting them in succession I evolved from a lyrical love-seeker to an epic love-allower.

This is where Charlie left me – just on the right spot for a fresh start.

[lifewithlizzie-blog1]

Hello lovelies!

Today, as promised, I am going to talk about my first experience of getting my eyebrows waxed.  As you will know, if you have read my latest post, I was invited to a launch party for a beauty salon last Thursday. If you haven’t read that post, then you can do so here. It goes into a lot more detail explaining about the company, the treatment programmes and the event itself in general. Today I just want to talk about getting my eyebrows waxed because it was first time and something I didn’t know much about.

First thing I want to say, is that the lovely lady who did my eyebrows (Hannah) was absolutely fantastic and I couldn’t have asked for anyone better. Hannah was so enthusiastic and passionate about what she does and you could tell she had a genuine love for the company and brand which was so encouraging.

As someone who knew very little about getting your eyebrows done this was quite a big deal for me.  I almost found it very daunting in a sense because I was so unprepared and didn’t know what to expect at all. I actually had the option of either getting my eyebrows waxed or threaded, but was advised to get them waxed because Hannah personally said that threading was more painful. That is obviously a personal preference and I know a few people who do prefer threading over waxing but for me, after having the details and descriptions of both methods, I decided that waxing was the better option. Even though I haven’t had the experience of threading, I am still so happy with decision to get them waxed because the pain was so bearable and I love the overall result.

After all the explanations and after I had decided which method I wanted to pursue, Hannah then just spoke about the procedure of getting your eyebrows waxed because I had never experienced this before. We decided to keep the natural shape of my eyebrows even though they are not entirely symmetrical, but as everyone always says ‘eyebrows are sisters not twins’ and to be honest I am quite happy with the natural shape of my eyebrows and thus didn’t want to change that.

The actual process used hot wax and this was just placed underneath my eyebrow and then above as well and then used strips to remove the hairs. I am honestly so happy with the results. Normally I just do my eyebrows myself and pluck them but I can 100% tell the difference now I have had them waxed. My eyebrow shape is a lot cleaner and definitely more defined. Having my eyebrows waxed has definitely accentuated my brow shape and my arch. I love the finally result and I cannot believe I didn’t get it done sooner.

I also got my eyebrows trimmed to. This is such a tiny step which often seems insignificant but makes a huge difference to the tidiness of your brows. It really just adds that finishing step and makes them seem look so much better. It also makes filling in your brows in the morning a lot easier. It now only takes me 30 seconds in the morning to fill in my brows because it just so simple and easy. Obviously, the less time it takes to fill in your eyebrows – the better!

Overall, I am so satisfied with the end result of my eyebrows. I am so, so, so happy with the overall result and they look amazing. I am so thankful to Hannah for doing such an amazing job and for thoroughly explaining the process and the pros and cons of each method. I am also thankful that I got the opportunity to test out one NKD’s treatment programmes and I can honestly say that I would highly recommend NKD. I know you are wondering whether it is painful and it really isn’t. I coped absolutely fine and it was one of the main things I was worried about. The pain really isn’t that bad at all. It is minimal. The pain is just a short, sharp one once the strip is ripped off but other than that is doesn’t hurt at all and if you are considering getting your eyebrows waxed I personally wouldn’t worry about that, if I was you. I am so glad I said yes to this opportunity, because it is something that I wouldn’t usually do at all and I was so worried at the beginning but I am happy with the outcome and love how they look! I would definitely recommend getting them done because it does make doing your makeup so much simpler.

BEFORE

AFTER

AFTER

(The first photo (furthest on the left) is the before and the other two are after I got my eyebrows waxed. Sorry about my makeup being a bit messy! I obviously had to have a lot of it removed so I could have my eyebrows waxed.)

Thank you so much for reading this post and I really hope that it has helped you in some way or gave you some advice if you are thinking about having your eyebrows waxed. Let me know if you get your eyebrows done and if so what you have done. Do you get them waxed, tinted or do you get HD brows done? Also leave me a comment letting me know what you think of the experience and if you would recommend it. I would love to know! Until next time!

Much love,

Lizzie X

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  First time getting my eyebrows waxed! Hello lovelies! Today, as promised, I am going to talk about my first experience of getting my eyebrows waxed.