#macro friendly

[quickhealthyideas]

Okay but can we talk about how REVOLUTIONARY these protein brownies are??? 🍫✨

y'all... i've been BETRAYED by "healthy brownies" so many times. like, why do they always taste like sweetened cardboard??? or have the texture of a kitchen sponge???

the struggle was REAL:

dry af brownies that crumble into dust ☠️

weird banana-chocolate flavor combos that taste like lies

"protein" brownies with like 3g of protein (sir, that's not protein, that's a SUGGESTION)

recipes that require 47 ingredients i don't have

but THEN... plot twist of the century

i finally found THE recipe. the holy grail. the chosen one.

these brownies are: ✨ actually FUDGY (not cakey nonsense) ✨ taste like REAL chocolate (shocking concept, i know) ✨ 20+ grams of protein per serving (ACTUALLY helpful) ✨ made with 7 ingredients in ONE BOWL ✨ ready in 32 minutes

THE RECIPE IS RIGHT HERE

the secret sauce (literally)

turns out the problem was trying to "healthify" regular brownie recipes. this recipe is built FROM SCRATCH around protein powder. no flour, no eggs, no sketchy substitutions.

just creamy nut butter + the right protein powder + cocoa = MAGIC

real talk though - i've made these like 6 times in the past two weeks and my roommates think i've lost my mind. but like... have you SEEN these brownies??? they're perfect squares of fudgy heaven that happen to help your gains???

the recipe is RIGHT HERE and honestly? future you will thank present you for bookmarking this

UPDATE: just made a batch for my friend who's been complaining about gross protein bars and she literally asked if i bought them from a bakery 💀💀💀

drop a 🍫 if you're gonna try these!! i need to know i'm not the only one obsessed

[jellipsis]

Teaser: Thinking about making a tuna melt recipe/meal...

...that's build/fit for a billionaire superhero, UFRH. Follow for more? (the better this post performs, the more likely it is... that I'll create/design the tuna melt recipe, UFRH.)

[kumrattourism]

📸 Photography Paradise: Discover the Beauty of Kumrat Valley

Kumrat Valley is a haven for photographers, offering a wealth of breathtaking landscapes and picturesque moments waiting to be captured. From the lush green meadows to the crystal-clear rivers and towering mountains, every corner of Kumrat Valley provides stunning backdrops for both amateur and professional photographers alike. Whether you’re capturing the serene beauty of a sunrise over the…

[whatnext10]

Beautiful Twin Flagged Jumpers Can be Friendly Little Spiders

Jumper Frequently after work I go some place to take photos. Sometimes it’s the woods behind my house, sometimes it’s out to Cedar Key to watch the sunset, and sometimes it’s the yard around my office. One evening I went out into the yard to get rid of some trash in the dumpster. While out there, I noticed some pretty little flowers and went to take photos of them. While I was shooting, this…

[kxsagi]

Hi, newbie here! Can we get a scenario where Sae is crushing on his new manager and is trying to let her know in his own tsundere kuudere way. But unfortunately for him, reader is too intimidated and somewhat scared of him to read his actions as trying to spend more alone time with her. Instead she sees it as him singling her out and trying to catch her into making a mistake so that he could get rid of her.

Like asking her what they should get for dinner, to Sae he's asking her on a dinner date (just without the asking part) to reader it's "if I choose a non satisfactory and unhealthy dinner my job is done for". But when they finally started properly talking to each other, it all worked out in the end.

“𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥”

a/n: OH THIS TROPE IS SO CUTE

thank you for being so detailed!!! 

it started with the glances. the occasional ones from across the room when no one else was watching. sae itoshi didn’t do unnecessary eye contact, not during training, not during meetings, and especially not with strangers. but ever since you were hired as the new team manager, he’d been glancing. subtly, barely perceptibly, in the way cats watch birds. curious, silent, unreadable. 

and you? you were terrified. 

not of the job, you were perfectly qualified. not of the team, most of the players were friendly, maybe even too friendly. but sae itoshi? the prodigy midfielder with a stare cold enough to solidify oxygen? he scared the living daylights out of you. 

you’d seen him get benched once for muttering "if we’re playing like amateurs, i’d rather not play at all." and he hadn’t even raised his voice. he didn’t need to. his apathy alone could level a man. 

so when he started singling you out, you knew something was wrong. 

“hey. you.” 

you froze, clipboard clutched like a shield. "... yes?" 

he was standing too close. not that close, but close enough that you could smell expensive shampoo and inevitable disappointment. he tilted his head toward the hallway. 

“we’re going to get food. you’re coming.” 

you blinked. “why me?” 

“you’re the manager, aren’t you?” 

“i-is that a test? like a secret team-building task? am i supposed to calculate everyone’s macros on the go? because i can do that! i just, uh, i didn’t bring my tablet, so–” 

“geez. no.” he sighed. “just dinner.” 

which, to sae, meant: i want to have dinner with you. 

but to you? it sounded like: this is your final chance to not screw up dinner or your job. 

so you ended up spending the entire meal calculating protein-to-carb ratios while eating like a prisoner. sae ordered sushi. you ordered a plain chicken breast and asked the waiter if the dressing was low sodium. 

sae stared at you. “you think i’m going to fire you over salad?” 

you choked. “am i not?” 

he sighed again, but this time there was a hint of disbelief. was she serious? 

“look. i don’t usually ask people to eat with me. you’d know that if you stopped looking like i was going to eat you.” 

“... i-i don’t think that.” 

“you flinch every time i breathe near you.” 

“that’s an exaggeration.” 

he leaned in. “then why are you flinching now?” 

you flinched. he stared at you. you shriveled. 

the thing about sae itoshi was that he had all the romantic tact of a brick wall. his version of flirting included asking what shoes you were wearing and then staring at them for too long. his idea of small talk was: 

“you didn’t eat breakfast.” 

“how did you know?” 

“you looked weaker than usual.” 

or: 

“stop looking so tired.” 

“... i’m just sleepy...” 

“so go sleep. you look pathetic.” 

but when you left a snack on his desk the next day, he stared at it like you’d proposed. a protein bar, carefully chosen, high in BCAAs. he stared at the wrapper, then at you, like he was seeing sunlight for the first time. 

“you got this for me?” 

“yes?” 

“it’s not poisoned?” 

“no?” 

he paused. then muttered, “thanks,” in a voice so soft it could be mistaken for wind. 

you blinked. he didn’t kill you. didn’t even scowl. just took the bar and walked away like he hadn’t just melted internally. 

and you? you started thinking. maybe… maybe he didn’t hate you. 

it all came to a head one night after practice. 

you were staying late to reorganize the locker inventory. as usual, sae lingered. he always did. claimed he was “just watching tape,” but he never watched anything. just stood there, leaning on the wall, eyes occasionally drifting to you, lips twitching like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t be bothered to form a sentence. 

“what?” you finally asked, not looking up from your clipboard. 

“you’re staying late again.” 

“yeah.” 

“you don’t have to.” 

“someone’s gotta do it.” 

silence. 

“… you’re annoying,” he said. 

you glanced up. 

he was staring at the floor. “you think i’m trying to fire you or something. you think everything i do is a test.” 

“because it feels like it...” 

“it’s not.” 

he looked at you, eyes tired but honest. “i like you.” 

your brain short-circuited. “like, as a manager?” 

“no. not as a manager.” 

“… like, as a person?” 

“gosh, do i have to spell it out?” 

you blinked. “… yes?” 

he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, cheeks tinged ever so slightly pink. “i’ve been trying to ask you out for two weeks.” 

“by criticizing my lunch choices and calling me pathetic?” 

“by spending time with you,” he deadpanned. “i don’t do that with just anyone.” 

you stared at him. he looked away. 

“… but if you don’t want to, i get it. i’m not good at this.” 

you paused. then laughed. loud, sharp, slightly hysterical. “oh my gosh. i thought you were stalking me into HR material.” 

he blinked. you added, “i would’ve just said yes if you were normal about it.” 

he raised an eyebrow. “and you’re calling me not normal?” 

you grinned. it was the first time you smiled at him without fear. “so what’s for dinner, then?” you teased. 

he blinked again. then smirked, eyes soft for once. 

“anything but salad.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[tinytennisskirt]

Sweet Tooth

summary: the motions of patrick zweig, sleeping around for a place to stay, finding culinary genius! reader who owns a bakery- and things don’t go as planned, but he couldn’t end up more grateful for it.

warnings: cutesy. unsuspected feelings. lots of flirting. player/dirtbag turned boyfriend! patrick <333 kissinggg. smut! fingering, mentions of oral. sex. the L word. lots of fluff, and a very sweet ending.

- Patrick is not the kind of guy who denies himself a dessert. He’s not one of those sports guys obsessed with macros and calories. He knows moderation, he knows he’s an active guy who can afford to get himself something. He’s in his car, still living in it, when he passes a new bakery. He’s just spent money on food and gas, so he’s not able to head in, but it looks like a cute little place and he promises to check it out when he has the spare cash.

- he’s still whoring himself out for a place to stay. he can’t afford not to. he’s spending time on tinder, swiping as he lays himself down in the back seat. something is up with the settings, he’s getting older women. like older older. geriatric, almost. they’re probably established and have houses, but he does have some standards. he goes to the age settings and sets it back. or somewhat close to it. he’s including 18-up. he sits up a little frustrated, looking at these 18 year old girls and swiping to maybe find someone with a better age. there’s 23, 22, 27… 27 wasn’t so bad.

- it’s you. and you’re pretty. the kind of pretty patrick knows that he doesn’t deserve, but when he swipes a yes on you, you’ve already swiped yes on him as well. it’s a match. he takes that and shuts off his phone, going to sleep.

- he wakes up to a text on tinder from you, it’s recent, he woke up two minutes after you first texted. it’s only ‘hiii’. he sits up, texts you back. you’re not far at all, he’s got a date with you tonight at some local italian bar.

- he’s wearing a sweater when he meets you at the bar. his best one. usually he’s not too picky about it but you’re prettier than his usual exploit. so why not enjoy it? he looks friendly, approaching you with a smile and his hand extended, freshly out of his jean pocket. you’re prettier in person, he notes, shaking your hand, letting it linger just a half-second extra in yours.

- you’re in something pretty, but casual. tall boots, a sweater that hangs off your shoulder, and a little skirt that wasn’t all that little. modest, something he isn’t used to. the most modest women he’d dated had been the shameless dates that he desperately asked for, the poor women sometimes coming straight from work. you have a winning smile and your hand is soft and he sits next to you at the bar, exchanging his name for yours properly.

- “so you play tennis professionally?” you ask, leaning on your hand. you’re smiling at him and you are so sweet. “are you any good?”

“i’d say so.” he grins. “might be.”

“you could be sooo bad at tennis and you’d still be better than me,” you tell him. “anything that stands out in your career? i’m so curious.”

he tsked, looking at his drink in front of him. you were interested in him, wanted to talk about him. the ego boost he needed. “won the junior us open a few years back.” he said. it wasn’t that impressive but tell it to someone who doesn’t know tennis and it sounds like a feat.

“how long ago were you considered junior?” you smiled a little slyly. he’s never been caught on that before. “how old did you say you were.”

he smirked, just a little stuck. “thirty-five.”

“so a while ago.” you smiled. “i don’t know anything about tennis, i’ll keep pretending for you.” you nodded, taking a sip of your drink with a cute little grin. you were a little bit spicy along with the sweet, he could get behind that. literally.

- he’s talking to you and you’re swirling your drink around with a sly little smile and you’re cute in a way where he’s just a little curious about your character. you’re more than one-sided and it’s intriguing but he doesn’t want it to get so far. he’s here to fuck you at your place, stay over, and leave with his shoes in his hand in the morning. he makes small talk, his face close to yours, the banter enticing and sexy but still somewhat tame. you had a personality, a good one, one he liked. sometimes it was just a little too easy and you weren’t. you were more of a riddle, something he wanted to figure out.

- you had a twinkle in your eye. flirting came naturally to you, you were almost at his level. the conversation continued over forty-five minutes and two easy drinks.

- the bar food you ordered comes in a really badly plated, ugly little container with the food attached to the tissue. you pick up a piece, looking at it. “we’re not eating this.” you say, finishing your drink. “c’mon.” and you hop off the bar stool.

patrick looks at you, looks at the food in front of the two of you. he was hungry, this was how he was getting his food for today. he’d eat it… “hm?”

“come with me.” you said, putting down the money for his drink and yours. he had just scrapped together just enough to pay for your drinks, but he didn’t stop you. “we aren’t eating bar food.”

this hasn’t ever happened to him. he stood up, looking at you just a little confused, but a sly smirk resting on his lips. you were leaving with him already- what did that mean? “where are we going?” he’d been here for about an hour and you were getting him to leave with you, he thought you weren’t easy.

“you’ll see. come on, come on, you’re so slow,” you giggled, leading him out and onto the street. “mmm, i know what you’re thinking.”

“yeah?”

“she’s easy.” you said. “she’s easy and she’s leaving with me.”

he chuckled, “i wasn’t.” he was. he walked beside you on the traffic side of the sidewalk. it wasn’t his usual conquest, but he’d take it.

“i am not easy, however, things come easily to me.” you grinned. he rubbed his chin just a little, looking at you as you walked. it was late, but you lead him into one of the little asian supermarkets that were somehow open 24/7. “like guessing. you’re a steak guy, hm?”

“might be…” he nodded, looking around. you knew exactly where you were going, it seemed, the way you walked so quickly that he didn’t have time to see anything up close before you were in the meat section. “why?”

“peppercorn?”

“yeah.” it had been a good few years since he’d had steak. he had his hands in his pocket as you picked up the packaged meat and put it into one of the thin little plastic bags. you spun away from the meat section and over to the vegetables. you picked up a pack of mushrooms and two zucchini.

“you like vegetables?”

“what’s the green one?”

“zucchini.” you smiled. “oh my god, you’ve never had it. perfect.”

he was so lost, just following you. he wasn’t going to leave but this was definitely weird. you were cute, bounding around in your sweater, grabbing a few other things. a clove of garlic and some other little bottle of something.

- you check out at the counter and it’s more money than he’s seen in two years. you’re not rich, he knows that, he would have known it. he’s still just so lost and you turn to him as you walk out of the store. “bored yet?” you asked.

“not at all,” he nods. “can i ask about this?”

“yes, you can ask about it.” you tell him.

“you usually take your dates grocery shopping?”

“that’s not asking about it,” you reply, with a smile, turning at the corner. he’s following you, a grin on his own face. you’re cheeky. and your sweater is falling further down your shoulder. he takes a bag to help you carry it. the things he does for a place to stay… “and no, not usually.”

he chuckles, “so…”

“so you’re lucky i hate bar food.”

he laughs, quietly muttering, ‘what the fuck’. but he’s glad, he’s into it. you’re different.

- you continue to lead him and you stop outside the bakery he noted just yesterday. shiny, new, and you have keys. you have the keys. you work here. “you coming?” you ask him. you’re holding the door open for him. he takes the door from you and you slink inside, walking around to turn the lights on. the blinds are shut and the lighting is pretty. fairy lights on the wall, wall lamps, all yellow and pretty.

“you work here?”

“something like that,” you smile, bringing the food back into the kitchen. he follows, looking over everything. “i might own it…”

“might?”

“maybe…” you smile. he’s a little taken aback by that, but it’s occurring to him he didn’t ask what you do. you’re a baker.

he grins, sliding around you as you bend to grab things from the cupboards. a cutting board, a knife, and you start running the big sink in the corner. he watches you quietly as you tie your hair up off your neck and pull your sweater off over your head. you have a pretty little tank top underneath, square neckline and thick straps. he’s never been so far away from a girl while she strips. you turn to him, “i don’t bite.” you grin. he notices how quiet he’s gone.

“no? i was counting on it.”

“yeah?” you say, unsheathing your chefs knife. he steps closer to you, smirk on his face. he’s a shameless guy, he’s not afraid of your rejection. but you grab a zucchini and press it against his chest. a long, thick, suggestive vegetable, but you kindly, and slowly, with a seductive tone to your voice and looking up at him through your eyelashes… tell him to help you cut it up.

- you’re cooking for him, he figures out. you’re cooking food. real food, just on a whim. it’s kind of you to a point that he feels just the slightest bit bad about what his intentions are. “you do this for every guy? steak and vegetables?”

“you’re just the odd lucky one.” you tell him, adding the vegetables to the pan. the meat is done. “food, real food is so important. taste is important as well as the sanitization process- it’s so easy to get food poisoning from a bar. here, less likely.“

“good to know.” he said, his back against the counter next to you, watching you cook. it smelled amazing. “i appreciate it.” he was genuine. not only did you save him from potential food poisoning, but you saved him from being hungry tonight. “thanks.”

“i am sorry it’s not a cheap bar date, if that’s really what you’re into.”

“i don’t usually get dragged to bakeries at 10pm, it’s a good change.”

you stir the vegetables around, “so you date a lot?”

“i wouldn’t say a lot…” he says. “enough.”

- you talk to him about that. you ask if he’s dating to date or dating for potential and he just smiles. how can he tell the woman making him dinner from scratch that he’s not looking for anything serious?

- you nod, deducting his answer from his lack of answer. you’re cleaning as you go and you plate up the food all perfect and pretty and hand it to him. you clean the last dish and put everything back. “i really hope you like it or i just yanked you away from perfectly bad bar food.”

“i’m going to like it. thank you, this is amazing.” he tells you. he drops the sly act, he can’t keep it up over the fact you made him food. real food. good food. he’s been starving. he could kiss you right now. he probably would have, shamelessly, if there wasn’t a plate between the two of you. he decides against it.

- you sit down with him at one of the cafe tables, watching him eat the first bite. then the second with hardly enough time between. it’s delicious, he makes a mental note to put effort in when he fucks you later. you giggle just a little, “it’s not going anywhere.”

“m’sorry-it’s good,” he says, mouth full. it’s a turn off, but for a cook and a baker, its one of the best things. you lean your cheek on your hand again, it kind of smushes your face and patrick’s only thoughts are that the steak is good and that you’re pretty. pretty is different than gorgeous. you’re gorgeous too, of course, but you’re pretty because you’re cute. you’re cute. and it’s weird to think so. when you were down to meet him so quickly, on such short notice, he thought this would be something fast. he tells himself that he’s only feeling differently because this date is taking longer than his usual. by now he’s usually inside of whoever he’s gone out with.

- his lack of table manners is something you can afford to not mind. he’s tall, he’s got nice curls, a nice beard, a good nose, and a gorgeous grin. he’s asking you questions about your bakery and it’s surprising to him too when he realizes he’s been actually listening. the conversation at hand is engaging and he’s into it probably as much as he’s into you.

- “so the tennis thing, you still do that? like all the time?” you asked him, twirling your fork between your fingers.

“all the time.” he nodded back. “not as much as i used to when i was on tour. it’s good though. i get by on challengers.”

“they pay you?” he nods back and takes another bite of his food. “how much usually? is that rude?”

he grins, you’re polite. “not rude-mm- depends on the challenger. sometimes hundreds or around a thousand if you win the whole thing.”

“yeah? that’s not bad. some pocket money,” you smiled, taking another bite. for patrick, it wasn’t pocket money, it was all his money. “i wish baking brought you places. i would love to travel but i spent almost all i had to stay still. to get this place- and to get all the things to go in it.”

“it looks great,” he replied, nodding. “is it doing well so far?” who was he? invested in you? your life? your success? he was almost done with his meal.

“it is.” you smiled. you were pretty, grinning so wide over your passion. “it’s a lot of work, this is the only night i’ve had off in a while. i am usually… in bed by now. i have early starts. i’m a grandma, i know.”

he grinned, “i don’t mind.”

- dinner ends and patrick doesn’t let you get the dishes. you follow him back into the kitchen and you let him wash the dishes while you rinse, then sanitize, then dry. drying his hands, he squeezed past you, hands on your waist as he passes you. you turn around, just a little jumpy. you’re jumpy. something possesses him to say sorry. and mean it. “no, it’s okay, i just…” he’s not imagining the pink in your cheeks. god you’re so cute, it’s disturbing some part of him he didn’t know was active. you cover your mouth and turn back to the dishes, stacking them neatly.

- patrick is honestly ready to leave. he could go, he’d sleep in his car, it was fine. but walking out on you felt wrong. after that meal… you’re in the fridge, looking around on your tiptoes. “i was so sure i had something chocolate in here. it’s not on this shelf… it’s not on…” he comes into the fridge behind you, met by the cold air. he reaches above you.

“this it?” he asks, gesturing to the row of chocolate desserts. you nod. he advances, moving the closest he’s been to you- his cologne, a little bit musky and a hint of cigarettes hits your nose. usually you wouldn’t allow heavy scents near your food, but he smelled so good maybe it slipped your mind.

- he eats like a starved man. he really does. he’s so grateful, beyond, to have something so good for free. to him, you’re an angel sent to cure his hunger. you clean up for the last time.

“do you want to come up for coffee?” you ask him.

“come up?”

“my apartment is upstairs,” you smile and it’s kind and its not laced with any sort of lust the way most women ask for him to come over to theirs. “come up? i have beer if that’s more your speed.”

he grins, leaning toward you. he’s taller than you by a good bit. and he’s gorgeous. and your heart skips. “if you’re offering.”

“i just might be.” you twist from side to side. he’s so smitten by you. you’re hot but you’re kind and you’re sexy as hell and you know that, but you don’t act like you know it.

- you bring him upstairs and he’s looking over everything you have in your dimly lit, yellowy apartment. you have a lot of things to observe, but you beckon him to the couch while you get him a beer from your fridge. you’re not drinking anything. you just sit next to him on your knees, leaning against the back of your couch. he thanks you. he means it.

“it’s a nice place.” he says, taking a sip of his beer. “you own it? or do you rent?”

“i own it. i’ve been working since i was young and my parents hardly ever let me spend a penny.” you tell him. he’s impressed. more than. “it smells like brownies permanently, i think.”

he smiles, watching you look around. his eyes fall on your lips, on your body. “mm no, smells like you.” he states, eyes falling on the little painting of a cake on the wall.

you giggle, “me? my perfume?”

“mmm no.” he said. “you smell good.”

“thank you,” you grinned. “so do you.”

he chuckled against the lip of his beer bottle, dimples showing. “so you really don’t cook for all your dates?”

“i never have before, no.” you say, hiding half your face as if you’re shy. “i’m sorry if it was a bit much. or forward of me. i’m just so against bar food, it’s a culinary disgrace and i just… i like my kitchen. and i love to cook.”

“i’m not complaining,” he replied. he set his beer down.

- you got to talking about food and he told you all about the phase he had where he’d get taco bell every tuesday. you’re not a fast food person. he knows that. but you’re laughing in disgust when he tells you the things he used to get and it feels oddly worth it. he’s inching closer to you in conversation, leaning in more every minute. and you’re talking very closely and all of your expressions are so beautiful. more than pretty or cute or gorgeous, you are beautiful.

- your hands are resting on his knee. both of them, overlapping each other. he’s smirking at you, the sly remark you just made with the most innocent eyes. it’s getting later into the night, it’s almost 1am. the date is going on a lot longer than he thought. you were probably going to make him leave soon. he hasn’t even kissed you. he could have to shut you up. you talked a lot but you were very passionate and you also dove into a lot about him. he could have shut you up. he wasn’t against kissing spontaneously to get what he wanted but he was listening to you… he wanted to hear what you had to say.

- the night continued and you had your head rested against the back of the couch, listening to him talk about tennis. when he stopped, you’d ask another question about gameplay so he’d keep talking and you just listened. and he was enjoying it. more than anything he’d enjoyed in a long while. and as you continued to get tired, so does he. he wants to kiss you, he tells himself he will, he’ll definitely kiss you when you finish your sentence and no. you both, tired, slowly fall asleep. it’s a mistake that he passed on coffee for beer.

- it’s the most connection he’s had with anyone in a while. the way you spoke to him was different, was fun, was filled with your personality and your sweetness. your head fell on his chest and you slept the night on the couch like that. at least it wasn’t his car.

- he wakes up first to the girl who he didn’t fuck or even kiss laying on his chest. it’s a trap is the first thought in his head. how did he get to stay over without fucking you? some loophole. he ignores the fact he was too invested in you as a person to do anything. though he wished he did, you’re perfect.

- you wake up and you sit up like nothing happened. “fuck.” you sigh, rubbing your eye. “fell asleep.” you smile. “hi.”

“hey,” he replied and he’s unable to stop the smile he has in response. “i think i’ll take that coffee now if you’re offering.”

“was just about to ask,” you grinned. you got up, your hair just a little messy, and hopped over to the kitchen to make the coffee. like you didn’t spend a night on a stranger’s chest. like you didn’t just wake up on top of him. he liked that about you. “do you take cream, milk, sugar?”

patrick got up from the couch, walked over to you. “black.” he said. “hey- about that-“

“don’t worry about it.” you smile. “it got so late, i don’t even remember falling asleep.”

he wouldn’t have apologized but something about sleeping over without fucking you just felt selfish and unfair. like he didn’t pay for it. and he felt even more that way because not only had you fed him, but you had cooked for him. his way of thinking was fucked but it was how it was. “you’re sweet.” you said.

“hm?”

“you’re sweet. you care too much, though.” you tell him. nobody has ever said those words to him in his life. he grins. “sense of adventure. sleeping on a stranger’s couch by accident and the cause being passionate conversation.”

“it’s definitely something,” he takes the coffee from you. “thanks.” how is he supposed to leave now? coffee in hand.

“and i know you’re not looking for anything serious, so don’t read too much into it. i’ll do that for you.” you were so cheeky and he just couldn’t take his eyes off you. you took down your hair, letting it fall. he should have fucked you…

- you talk as you make breakfast. you don’t mention that you’re doing so, but you are and he won’t stop you. he should be on his way, but you’re talking to him and he’s listening and he just can’t bring himself to make up an excuse to go. you’re as sweet as the things you make and it’s hard to ignore the fact that you are different. maybe it’s the fact he’s not currently clouded by lust, the need to have you in that way isn’t very forefront, seeing as he had a place to stay without it.

- “waffles or pancakes? because every time i ask this, i get someone’s bullshit answer. there’s a very real answer to this.”

“really? and what if i’m wrong?”

“then no food.” you say, pointing at him with your spatula. “okay go.”

“waffles.” he says.

“mmm nope.” you shake your head and narrow your eyes. “you’re a victim of the syrup puddle delusion. pancakes are sooo much better, they are so absorbent. it’s the only way to go. especially with chocolate chip.” and the conversation is dumb. but you’re young, he can’t expect you to be all serious. it’s new and it’s fresh and it’s fun. you’re fun.

- noon hits and he’s helping you clean. “i’m sorry if i’ve held you hostage,” you tell him, setting aside the freshly cleaned plates. “hope you know you were free to go hours ago.”

“i knew, i knew,” he chuckled. “it’s not every day a professional wants to hold you hostage and cook for you.”

“so you just want me for my cooking. typical. typical,” you tease. “here i thought you were different.”

“the cooking is a bonus. not that your food isn’t amazing, it is. really fucking good. it’s also not often i like who’s cooking it.”

“oh my god you like me? really?” you tease him. it’s cute.

“shhh, okay,” he nods. he’s not a liar. “yeah. i think so.”

“crazy.” you whisper, dragging your hand over his arm and back as you walk past him, smiling. you’re different, you’re doing things that are making him feel things deeper than he probably should. he tells himself it’s just because it’s longer than he thought- but he did wake up with his arms around you… that’s something he’s never done with any woman he’s ever slept with, intentional or not. but he also didn’t sleep with you, sleep with you.

- he says goodbye around 1pm. he’s overstayed for sure but you don’t show any signs of it. and the conversation was never boring. it was a lot of talking and as he stood at the exit of the bakery, people trying to brush by him to get in (other staff were working obviously), he couldn’t even get the chance to kiss you goodbye. not even that. though as he walked back to his car, he found that he really had wanted to.

- he’s back on tinder later. a place to stay is a place to stay. he’s got a process and he’s safe, he didn’t sleep with you. he’s scrolling, but suddenly he’s extra picky. it’s weird. all these ideal matches, women he’d be fine with are suddenly just not it. you’re not out of his mind, but that’s fine, another woman would erase you. no problem. if only he could pick one, find one… if all else fails he’d go to a bar and find one there.

- he doesn’t. he gives up. he sleeps in his car. and he’s thinking about you. how you brought him back to your business, cooked a whole meal for him, a nice meal, an expensive one, let him sleep over, and made you breakfast and you let him slip out the door. was that casual for you? he couldn’t help but to think about it, about you. about how the closest he got to you was while you were both asleep. it was an occurrence that just… didn’t happen in the day to day. he fell asleep before he could do anything, that was rare, that was comfortable, that was… strange. and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. a day passes in between.

- he’s unsurprised when you message again a day later, but glad. the sun is setting, he has to move his phone to avoid the orange glare.

y: hey :)

p: hi, how are you?

y: i’m good, how are you?

p: the same.

y: what are you up to?

p: not much. just finished at the court.

he lied, of course. he had to come across as busy, that’s just how it was when girls called back. too busy.

y: ooh fun.

y: any chance you want to swing by? i baked something new and i need a test audience.

how could he say no? free food was free food… he climbed into the front seat and put his keys in the ignition. and he was going to see you again.

- he came in, different jeans, different shirt. a t-shirt this time, black. biceps and forearms on display. your bakery is busy and smells like fresh bread and chocolate and there you are, smiling, gorgeous, helping a little girl hold the baked goods for her mom, teaching her to hold the bag ‘nice and straight’. he catches your eye, wandering in, looking at the atmosphere when it’s full of people. “patrick, hi,” you smile, coming out from behind the counter.

he once again can’t help but grin back at you. “hey. wow. it’s busy.”

“it is, it is, but we close in an hour, so it’ll die down. i didn’t think you’d be here now, i mean, i texted like ten minutes ago…”

it dawns on him that he just launched into action at your call. well, fuck. that didn’t look so good for him. he chuckled to himself, a little embarrassed. “i might have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“for me,” you grin, teasing.” no, i get it, who doesn’t?”

he chuckles, “uh-huh, okay, yeah- i wouldn’t know.”

“thought so,” you say, and you take his hand, leading him into the back, where your little chefs are doing their last tasks, cleaning up for the day. “m’kay, come here. try this.” you pick up a fork grab him a bite and you’re driving it to his mouth. he’s got no choice but to eat it. he does, laughing at how you just force fed him something, but his expression changes as how good it is. “it’s good?”

he speaks with his mouth still full- “it’s so good, what the fuck?”

you grin. it’s the first of many times he’s going to be force fed new items, he just doesn’t know that just yet. “you like it? really?”

“mmm- really, yeah. what is that?”

“it’s cinnamon and chocolate with a vanilla base to mimic simple pastry. its got a bit of a fudge to the chocolate and the cinnamon is freshly ground. it’s a cupcake inspired by a churro.” you jump up and down just a little. he could kiss you for this.

“can i buy this off you right now?”

“bold to think you can buy anything off of me.” you scoff, picking up one of the tray. you grab the icing spatula and quickly spread the light brown icing over it and reach over to a little dark brown bottle. you drizzle the dark liquid over it and sprinkle something on top and hand it to him.

“i’ve got ten dollars in my pocket,”

“thought you were just happy to see me,” you mock-sighed, then smiled. “no way i’m letting you pay, that’s crazy. you’re my tester.”

he rolled his eyes a little, smiling back. “just might be over this cupcake.”

“really?” you stepped a little closer, cupcake in hand, looking up at him. you were sexy, and you made it look innocent- it was bad, it was really bad, there were too many people here to do what he wanted to do. he twisted his mouth to the side, trying not to smile too much. “we close in thirty.”

“thought you said an hour?”

“thirty.” you replied, grabbing the oven gloves and taking a few final things out, beginning to wrap things. “i’ll be up in twenty if you want to go up? grab anything in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

you really did lure him back to you with food. he grinned to himself, nodding and heading upstairs they way he knew how from last time.

- he does help himself to the cucumber in your fridge. he figures you’ll miss it least and it’ll tide him over. it’s weird being in someone’s apartment without them. especially after only knowing them a few hours. but it’s worth it, you come with free food and a place to potentially stay. he tells himself that, anyway. he’s using you. or so he tells himself.

- he takes the time to walk around your apartment, seeing more than just the living room couch. you aren’t the most neat person ever, but you keep your things where they need to be. he peeks into your room, looking at the curtains that drape the windows, the big bed, the bedside table with so many things on it. soon enough you’re upstairs, he’s on your couch again. you open the door and the scent of the bakery downstairs floods your apartment. he’s almost sane about the way you take your hair down and unbutton your cardigan. he’s pretending like you aren’t hot. and when you sit on the couch next to him you sit closely. “hi.”

“hey.”

“do you drink wine? red wine?”

“only if i’m not drinking it alone.”

you laugh, “it’s more for me than for you. i need it after today.”

“fair.” he followed you with his eyes as you climbed over the back of the couch and into the kitchen, reaching for the wine bottle. “so it was a busy day. i knew you’d get customers, but that was wild.”

“very,” you screwed the bottle open and got two glasses and you filled them up generously. “we had a little girl come in and she dropped her dad’s entire order and he asked that we make him more for free. i had to explain that we couldn’t do that- it was around $200 wasted on the floor. he was sooo angry.”

patrick met you in the kitchen and you handed him a glass of wine. “so what did you end up doing?”

“i kicked him out.” you said, drinking the wine. “i don’t like disrespectful people- he demanded i make more, even after i offered a different cake.”

“good for you.” patrick nodded. “i wouldn’t take that either. guy wouldn’t even take the cake you offered?”

you finished your generous glass. he wouldn’t judge. “no. which is crazy considering the cake matched his fucking price- god it makes me so mad. he wouldn’t even take what i, myself, spent time and money on.”

patrick enjoyed your passion. “if it would make you feel better, i probably would have eaten the ruined product.”

“should i have called on you earlier for clean up? maybe then it wouldn’t have felt so much like a waste.” you laughed. “i actually wasn’t sure if i should at all.- sorry, the wine- that was weird of me to say.”

he shook his head, “not weird. it’s fair. i don’t usually text post-date.”

“mmm. it didn’t go well enough? holy fuck- i am so sorry, i should not chug wine.”

he laughed, stepping just a little closer. “no it’s just… hm.” he stopped himself. “it was actually one of the best dates i’ve been on in a while.”

“you waited for me to call on you again? like a girl?”

“no, i just.. i don’t usually go on second dates.”

“oh.” you nodded, pouring yourself more wine and topping his off. “but you showed up.”

“maybe i’m just here for the wine and baked goods.”

you lean your back against the counter but somehow you’re closer to him. maybe he took a step forward. either way… “don’t worry, i won’t tell anyone about your soft spot for me.”

he smirked, “who said anything about a soft spot?”

you lean just a little more toward him. “don’t tell me i actually lured you back here with food. i think you like me.”

“yeah? guess i need a better poker face then, hm?”

you sipped again, “or… you could admit that you like my company. or me. either one. both.”

“where’s the fun in that?”

you rolled your eyes, tucking your hair behind your ear. “oh, fun. you’re looking for fun.” you nod, setting your glass on the counter and hopping up on it. patrick takes the extra space that you used to stand in and he’s still taller than you sitting on the counter. he smells good like he did the other day, cologne and cigarettes and to him. you note the biceps and you didn’t get to see when he wore a sweater the other night. they’re nice… he looks over you still, close to you. “nothing more than fun?”

“maybe a little more than fun.”

“oh? and it’s not the wine?”

“no, it’s not the wine,” he scratches the back of his head.

“soooo…?”

“might be you.”

you giggled, cheering just a little. “oh my god, he admits it. this is crazy, should i bake a cake? what do i win, a third date?”

“you’re ambitious,” he grins, stepping closer to you. his body is between your knees, he’s looking down at you. your heart picks up pace.

“tell me to my face you don’t ever want to see me again.”

“i can’t do that.”

“thought so.”

- he leans forward the same way you tilt your head up. he’s got that sick little smirk on his lips and his eyes fall from your eyes to your lips.

“so third date?”

“maybe,” he’s getting closer. his body is as close to yours as it can be without being completely pressed against. your legs are on either side of his hips, it’s suggestive, it’s sexy, and you are smiling like you’re proud of yourself for something. he taps under your chin, “fine.”

you smile wider, eyes meeting his lips as well. you’re no better than him. especially after that chin tap. he could rush into this, kiss you hard, but there’s something about the slowness that is enticing and hot. your eyelids and his both close just slightly, half-lidded, his nose brushes yours, your wine glass is heard being set back down on the counter. his scent mixed with the wine on his breath is intoxicating in itself.

- the phone rings. loud. it’s loud and it’s startling and it ruins everything. usually he wouldn’t give up at something like that but it’s… you. and it was ruined. he could have kissed you and he didn’t because it wasn’t perfect. which was strange. because usually he wouldn’t give that much of a fuck. he backed away and you looked at him apologetically, slipping off the counter, your hand trailing down his arm as you did, before getting the phone. it’s one of your product suppliers calling because he thought you were still open. you laugh, apologizing to the supplier.

- patrick feels like he should leave. usually it’s so cut and dry, he goes on the date, he goes back, he fucks, he leaves. it’s a simple process and it works. but you are you and you’re different and he hasn’t even kissed you and he’s standing in your kitchen waiting for you to finish on the phone after a near-first kiss. now the regular him in his regular pattern wouldn’t count any kiss with a number but you’ve got some grip on him that he can’t deny. even got him to say yes to a third date. his hand in his pocket. who is he to deny himself anything?

- he feels like a horny teenager with a girl whose parents are in the driveway. it’s not the time for a kiss, he’s listening to your conversation and it seems like there’s a calculating issue.

- he’s standing, red wine glass in hand. he’s looking over the ladybug magnets on your fridge. he takes a sip, then places the glass on the counter. he hears the click of the phone back on it’s base and turns to look at you, “where were we?” you ask, hopping back over to him and pulling him in by his shirt. he didn’t see that coming, but gladly, his lips are on yours. it’s a strong kiss, he’s pressed against you, bent just a little because he’s too tall. your hands holding his face, your hips connecting with his. he grabs your waist, keeping you there. his hands are strong and guiding and they are surprisingly still. and it’s a kiss. a long kiss. surprisingly long to patrick who is used to a multitude of messy kisses in the heat of a moment. this moment is heated differently. and the kiss is long and hard with gentle breaks between for breaths and it’s just… nice. he tastes the way he smells and apparently so do you. unsurprisingly sweet with the taste of wine.

- you pull away first. not him. you. he would keep kissing you if you didn’t stop. his lips stay parted and you hover over them a second longer before you pull away entirely. “so about that third date… i think we should-“

- he sits with you on the couch again and he asks you about you. your bakery stories. your culinary school stories. and he’s laughing and so are you and the bottle of wine is done for and you haven’t even kissed again. he wants to kiss you. he’s staring at your lips and he wants to kiss you again. he can’t stop thinking about how it felt. who knew a kiss without sex was still so fucking good? he hadn’t kissed anyone like since- well since Tashi, but Tashi wasn’t ever feeling the same way on the other end of things but you so were. you were and this made for probably one of his top five kisses. top three. top two.

- the third date is at a restaurant you deem ‘good’ and when dinner is over, he walks you back to your apartment above the bakery and you kiss him at the door. another good kiss. shorter than the first. it’s somehow only your second kiss and he’s known you for about a week. but it doesn’t stop him from wanting to know all of the things about you. soon enough you have plans to see each other again.

- it’s over lava cake now. you tried two different recipes and you need him to try both and he’s completely down. you sit on the counter and you make him open his mouth to give him the bites you’ve perfectly prepared with the side of fresh strawberries and it’s erotic, somehow, the way your thumb moves over his lower lip to remove the excess chocolate. not only that, but you put your thumb in your own mouth. you’re teasing him. you’re evil, he deducts.

“better or worse than the first?”

“shuttt uppp,” he drags it out as he kisses you. what is known to him as the third kiss between you. kissing you with no intention of bringing you to your bed is something addictive. maybe it’s just you. the way you kiss him. your hand travels up the back of his neck and into his hair and you’re grinning when you part for air, his hands are on your waist and he’s pressed against you. it’s hard to stop kissing you. he finds it every time. you taste like chocolate and strawberries.

- you kiss him, letting his hand slide up the back of your shirt, his warm hands on your skin. you pull away, “you want to go upstairs?” you breathe.

“i still have to compare the two.”

“there’s better things upstairs to eat, i promise,” you grin. “was that so bad.”

“that was not so bad but from you i think it might be.”

“oh i knew it, but i had to make the joke at some point.” you smile and he smiles back at you before kissing you again. and he just kisses you. over and over and over. and he never even goes upstairs that night.

- he gets to kiss you more often. you see him more often. he’s over at yours or you go to a park and it’s just nice. the consistency is surprisingly nice and he doesn’t even mind sleeping in his car, he’s got something good going. he hasn’t had sex in a while but it’s worth it, really worth it. he didn’t want to ditch the lifestyle but it was you and you were smart and kind and a little bit mean in a sexy way and he was only getting older. he deleted tinder.

- he’s kissing you, “patrick- I have to- go back- downstairs,” he’s kissing you all he can to get you to stay. He slept over on the couch and you brought him coffee and a bakery croissant so he’s not letting you go. it’s a work day. he knows that. he pulls you onto the couch with him and you’re giggling, saying that you really need to get back to work, but his hand his gently squeezing your chest and sliding over your waist so you can spare a few minutes. you kiss like teenagers, a lot of touching but nothing too serious. patrick is a fan of the change of pace, of the anticipation, of you, so he’ll gladly kiss you until your lips are pink and puffy with no sexual gratification. it’s nice to be able to sleep over without that obligation.

- when you’re across from him at dinner, you ask him what you are. and his brain is telling him to say something fake, protect himself, protect the player motif, but his heart is so in it. he has a big heart and a lot to give and it’s been misplaced far too fucking often. so his brain decides to tell him to go with his heart and he asks if you want to call yourself his girlfriend. he hasn’t had a girlfriend since Tashi. and that was fucking ages ago. you are the first person able to crack him enough into something that could be serious. at first he thinks maybe you’re not into it, but you grin. “so that makes you my boyfriend…”

“yeah,” he nods, mouth pinched a little to avoid the pending grin. “that work for you?”

“i’ll have to check with my other two boyfriends, but i think it’ll be fine.”

- he chases you up the stairs to your apartment and kisses you against the door even with the threat of falling all the way back down all those steps. you manage to get the door open and you pull him inside before pulling away from the kiss and kicking off your shoes as you run from him. he chases you just a little, enough, you’re giggling as you throw your cardigan on the couch. patrick is opposite of you with the couch between so it could go either way so he jumps the couch, catching you and kissing you, picking you up, the billowy skirt you’re in sliding up your legs as they wrap around him. you kiss him, captured in his arms and he presses you to another wall, then another, and then he’s crawling over you in your bed. he kisses you like he’s never kissed anyone. he’s never had the intention to touch someone with such gentle hands. its always been rough, always lust-laced. not here, not how.

- and it isn’t even sex. it’s just touching, heavy petting. it’s your denial of it that makes him want you so much more as your hand moves up and down his length. he’s big, you note that, it kind of scares you a little in the ‘how is that supposed to fit’ kind of way, but it’s good. you’re good with your hands, it’s probably from all the dough-kneading you’ve had to do in your lifetime. he’s weak for you and you only. you really were taking this slowly and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. his hands slide over the skin of your waist, over your ass, coming back to your front, pushing aside your underwear, fingers that rub your clit and make you gasp. he’s experienced, you know that, but you kiss him and he tastes like smoke and you can forget it. besides, you know you’ve already won him over. his fingers slip inside of you and it’s dawns on him that you are probably one of the best things to happen to him in a while. aside from sex, the lack thereof is something so enticing, so fucking intoxicating, and the way you moan his name without him having to truly be inside of you, it’s so rewarding. he thinks he might just stay, as if he hasn’t already agreed to it.

- dating you comes with gaining a few pounds, that’s a no-brainer. you feed him well. how can he say no when everything you cook is so fucking good and there’s never a lack of dessert around? with tennis still in the picture he’s turning most of it into muscle, but that doesn’t stop him from getting just a little bit softer. he hasn’t slept in his car in three days, he’s in your bed and you’re laying on his chest, your hands tracing gently patterns on the skin of his stomach, tracing the hair down his abdomen to the v of his crotch and back up again. he’s not even thinking he’s glad to not be sleeping in his car, he’s contented with the fact you’re laying on him the way you are. and he’s only glad to not be in his car because you wouldn’t be there.

- “we never go to your place,” you say to him, “hiding bodies there or something?”

patrick scratches the back of his neck, scrunching up his nose just a little. “uh… something like that. it’s not very finished.”

“when have i ever minded a mess?”

“mmm, never, but i don’t think you’d like it.”

you shook your head, “what if i kissed you? then would you let me come over?”

“you kiss me all the time, what currency is that passive?”

you roll your eyes, “oral.”

“also not hard to come by.”

“prove it.” he’s glad you give him something to do to drop the topic of his living situation.

- he’s coming to understand what a roux is and how to actually make food now that there’s so many ingredients around. you’re teaching him and he’s begging you to come to the court and try tennis, but you tell him you that these things are not comparable. he picks you up and puts you on the counter as always and kisses you into it. maybe his hand slides up your thigh under your skirt. “patrick. we have food in the oven that is almost done, focus.”

he kisses your neck. “will it burn?”

“if you don’t stop, it will.” you smile against his kisses, his hand creeping up the inside of your thighs, parting your legs. “patrick.” your tone is warning but you don’t mean it.

he kisses your jaw, your cheek, your lips, his tongue delving between yours. his other hand is on your lower back, bringing you closer to the counter’s edge. he stops in his tracks.

“you’re not wearing anything under this?”

you smile against his lips, “mmm… nope.” and the kissing is only intensified. he pulls you closer and he tilts you back a little so his fingers can push inside of you. they curl perfectly, without sex he’s learned how to navigate you so well. you’re moaning and he’s taking it in like nothing he’s ever had before. this is domestic, this is perfect. he’s so into it, hard in his jeans. he wants you more than anything he’s ever wanted and you tease him with open legs and no underwear but you won’t let him fuck you.

- you really do want him to. so badly. god it’s almost a force of its own how badly you need him to. but the excuse this time is that the food is genuinely going to burn which is to your advantage because he picks up the pace at which his fingers are moving so that he can finish what he started before quickly and thoroughly washing his hands and taking the food out of the oven, you just breathe hard. he fixes your skirt so it once again drapes over your legs with a quick smile your way. god, he’s perfect.

- he’s enjoying himself in a way he didn’t know was possible. it brings him a strange joy when you introduce him to your friends as your boyfriend and they’re all impressed when they find out he’s a professional tennis player. “can’t be good for your sport to be fed eclairs all the time,” one of your guy friends joked with him. “you look good though, man. and she looks really happy.”

- it’s not like you wanted the sex to be special. no, you’re not a virgin. it’s not going to be magic. things already do feel pretty good if you’re honest but it’s getting to the point where you’re getting a little too horny to exist properly around each other. you’re adults, you’ve got all the time in the world to be romantic but as of lately it’s been feeling like there’s some magnetic, otherworldly force. patrick himself is slightly denying himself the pleasure because it feels so good to exist in that state of anticipation. you on the other hand, you’ve just been living to tease. you’re not easy, you don’t want to be easy, if you’re easy you turn into every other woman. you take pleasure in making him wait, pulling him close, touching him in ways that he won’t soon forget.

- he watches you at work. comes home from the court, showers and comes back downstairs and you’re busy in the kitchen. your employees have learned to work around you when you stop to kiss him. it’s been a few months of this. he loves how passionate you are about your work and if he’s lucky you’ll walk by his table, bring him coffee or a treat and sometimes you’ll make him try a few things, he never has the option to put it in his mouth himself. you do that little thing he loves, wiping his lip with your finger and taking whatever excess and putting it in your own mouth.

- he helps you close. he turns off all the ovens and he helps to wipe down and sweep. you’re in the kitchen with him alone now and you kiss him every single time he passes you. strong kisses, ones that mean something. paired with maybe a peck or two. every kiss longer than the next. his hands always on your waist, always holding you close against him. he presses you against the wall, you giggle as you shut the blinds with your free hand. “mmm- patrick.”

“yeah?”

“you want to go upstairs?”

“i’m busy,” he replies, kissing your neck. you sigh against him happily.

“patrick.”

“uh-huh?”

“upstairs,” you urge him, eyes meeting his between kisses. “i spend all day down here, upstairs…”

he’s clueless, used to what he’s used to, but he’ll do what you ask, following as you hold his hands up the stairs. “am i cooking tonight or do you still feel like it? i feel like i’ve really got that-“

you kiss him the moment you’re upstairs. it’s been a long day. he takes it happily, but it’s something more. the kisses connect and disconnect with more passion than to let this kiss have no intention. you’re grinning against his lips and he is once again backing you against the wall. his hand cradles behind your head and his tongue is in your mouth. he’s got his other hand on the back of your hip, sliding down over your ass. you hum into it, the breaths between short and pretty, your smiles mutual.

your hand slips up his chest, grabbing the collar of his sweater and using it to kiss him harder. your other hand creeps up the back of his neck. and then you start to pull his sweater up over his head.

- the difference isn’t much. but he gladly takes off his sweater and his shirt. it’s no different. except you push him backward, grinning. he takes it with a smile, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it somewhere. you push him back to your bed where he falls onto it and you begin to crawl over him. his hands on your waist as he adjusts where he’s sitting, your hand slipping down into his pants. no belt today, you’re lucky. he groans a little breathily as your hand does what it does best. he’s a fan of skirts, hiking it up, you do the very opposite and pull it down, off, thrown somewhere into some void. he sits up, meeting you, cupping your face.

your hand slips back out and you grind against him instead, his kisses varying in length just to be able to breathe out the way he needs. you breathe in his air, humming as you kiss him. “patrick?”

“yeah?”

“take your pants off?”

he chuckles between kisses and lifts you gently just so he can undo his zipper and pull them off. you grin, sitting back against him, grinding just a little. the new friction is good, elicits a larger groan from him. “what do you want from me?” he mumbles.

“do i have to want something?”

“have to want something. whatever it is, it’s yours. i already offered to cook.”

you laugh, kissing him still, “patrick, love.”

“yeah?” you smirk, eyelashes fluttering. his hand slides up your bare hip. “oh, fuck.”

“yeah, about that,” you grin, kissing him again. he groans, his head tilting back as you kiss him harder. he takes it all. it’s you. it’s everything he wants.

- his hands shimmy your underwear down your legs and his fingers meet your clit in seconds. he’s into it, his fingers slip inside you. “you’re so wet,” he mumbles.

“need you.” you mumble back. “please.”

your please is something he’s never gotten before. it’s all real and happening and he’s more than content with the ask. his boxers are off and he flips you onto your back. he’s not going to make you do the work the first time you have sex. he’s waited months to fuck you, he’s doing it himself and he’s doing it right. he knows you keep condoms in your top drawer, he reaches over, grabs one, and rips it open with his teeth. the wrapper flits to the floor.

- he’s big. you know this very well. you’ve thought about it, dreamt about it, fantasized with your hand between your thighs about it, but it’s real and it’s a threat. the thing is he’s not just long. around 7 inches maybe high 6 inches but he’s also thick in girth. you’re kissing and it’s rough but he takes the time to mumble, “is this okay?” he asks like you’re a virgin as his tip bumps your entrance- he pretends it’s not the hottest thing. he pretends you don’t make him weak. you tell him yes and you hold him a little extra close as he starts to push into you. it hurts- you haven’t had anyone inside of you like this in two years maybe. for him it’s been a little less, but it’s felt like forever. he’s never been discontented with your sexual activities but this just beats everything. you’re tight and respectfully, he goes slowly, both of you moaning and grasping for some semblance of reality. the wait is already deemed worth it, him burying his cock in you as far as it’ll go.

- he moves in and out slowly, but you’re not new to this. he soothes you, rubbing up your hip, your upper thigh, “taking it so well. so good. it’s okay?”

“mhm-“ you sigh, “fuck, oh my god.”

it’s more than satisfying. it’s more than he even thought it could be. “you feel so good, so perfect-.” his words make you moan and he takes it happily. he’s increasing his pace, getting harsher with his thrusts and you’re taking it all perfectly. it hurts but masking that under the pleasure of being stretched and filled so completely. “god, you’re-“ he groans into your mouth. so many months without, he could have lasted so much longer if it was in regular practice but you’re tight and you’re moaning in his ear, his name is falling off your lips. “gorgeous…”

“uh-huh,” you smile, kissing him as he fucks you into the mattress. that innocent smile on you that is so knowing, so fucking hot. it’s taking patrick all he can not to finish right then. sex with you is everything. everything. all-consuming, entirely satisfying

- forty minutes of completely sweaty, messy, perfect sex, he’s pulling out, and you’re breathing hard. “oh my god…” you say, rolling back onto your back. “i’ve been going without that?”

patrick smirks at the ceiling before rolling over, looking at you. he met you with the intention of sex with you but looking at you he couldn’t imagine that ever being true. there was no way it would have ever been as good as it just was if he’d pulled his moves all that time ago. it felt like forever. “going without?”

“i liked the tease,” you nod back, smiling just a little. “i’m hungry, are you hungry? i’ll make dinner in a few.”

he smiles at your need to feed him. “just a little.” and he begins to kiss down your bare chest, your stomach, between your thighs. “you’re so pretty, you know that?” he kisses your inner thigh gently. “prettiest.”

“i might…”

“so so pretty,” he kisses your opposite thigh. the shivers you had just felt return with a hot flush of goosebumps throughout your entire body. and his tongue works that same magic you know it to.

- you of course, make too much food after that. glowing with the high of sex and three great orgasms. patrick sits a little bit quiet. if he’d done this and been out the door he wouldn’t be here. he wouldn’t be sitting at the table, listening to you weigh up and down about making brownies or cake. you’re so excited. you’re so happy. and he’s doing something good for once. he’s making someone happy and there’s no catch. he’s yours. if he’d fucked you and walked out, shoes in hand, he would have missed out on something so perfect. it’s something to think about .

- when you notice how quiet he is, you come and sit on his lap in the chair. “are you okay?” you ask, just a little concerned. after all, he is patrick and you did have a bit of worry that he’d finally have what he wants and go. that was irrational, you convinced yourself. but he’s so quiet. “dinner is almost done.”

“i’m okay,” he responds, hands slinking around your waist. “more than. i’m just… i’m really happy. i hope you are too.”

“i am really happy- what are you thinking?” you smile, kissing him on the cheek.

“thinking that-“ he turns your head toward his and kisses you, “-i should tell you that i’m happy.”

“just that?”

“just that.” and he’s more than contented with that and you. he wouldn’t have ever said so. he never pictured the sentence. ever.

- what’s another five pounds for the woman you’re probably in love with anyway? crisis, patrick zweig head over heels. crisis. it’s new. tashi was never love, tashi was lust and the idea of perfect. you. you are pretty. and you’re kind. and you’re feeding him a cookie with other cookies baked into it and asking if it’s better than the cinnamon one. he’s in love with you. he’s in love with you. he’s in love with you.

- he moves in. you’re glad to have him, especially after he confesses about his car. there’s a small argument but it’s just because this whole time you were banishing him to sleeping in his car!!! how could he let you do that to him, poor baby. he’s not a poor baby, he’s a grown man, but he enjoys being kissed all over his face. you smell like chocolate and vanilla from the cakes of the day.

- he fucks you on the floor of your bakery, shutters closed, open sign turned off, the place dark, he’s fucking you on the floor. “god, you feel so good.” he groans. “so perfect.”

you hum in agreement, “fuck, patrick, god-“ and to think just ten minutes ago, you were making him try cake fillings for a wedding cake. you tasted like strawberry filling and he tasted like lemon and he could fuck you forever, he swears. floor or not. had to be some sort of health code violation. who was he to complain?

“fuck-“ he obeys, he goes harder. you moan and it slips from your lips. “fuck, i love you.”

- you both hear it. you grab his face and you kiss him so hard that his lungs strain from the lack of oxygen. he doesn’t falter, he fucks you harder the way you wanted and even adds his hand between you to play with your clit. you finish with him and you don’t let him pull out before you kiss him again, a second hard kiss, completely pressing him against you in all forms. “i love you too. a lot actually. more than you know.” you’ve been waiting to say it. “more than most… things.”

you’re naked and he’s still inside you and it’s a little oddly timed. he cant take back what he said. nor can he deny he means it. “more than chocolate cake?”

“woahhh too far, know your limits. that’s like asking you if you love me more than a tennis ball.”

he laughs, he laughs really hard, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “i think i love you a bit more than a tennis ball, what the fuck. a tennis ball?”

“you love tennis,” you giggle, holding his face in your hands. “why not a tennis ball?”

he keeps laughing, “it’s a ball.”

“tennis ball. you love tennis. makes sense to me.”

“over chocolate cake?”

you laugh with him, covering your face. but he moves your hands and kisses you again. a long, meaningful, and always perfect.

- he loves sleeping next to you more than most things. his favourite thing is probably the way you look in the morning before coffee. he keeps the curtains open when the sun sets so he gets to watch the golden light on your face. you kiss him every chance you get, no matter what, and he’s in love with it. and you. all of you. the sex is never boring, you taste like something sweet every time. he’s getting good at baking simple things like cupcakes and cookies and he can say he makes a decent mac and cheese because of you. he gets a job thanks to you and your connections and it’s a good job. he comes home to you, wakes up to you. and all this because some bar food wasn’t up to par.

- he finally gets you on the court and you’re terrible. it’s his turn to laugh at you, the way you do when he somehow turns batter into a thick dough. somehow you manage to hit balls backward. “it’s a good thing we’re in a long-term relationship and you love me, right?”

“hmmm… maybe not so long-term,” he jokes, dropping his racket and coming to kiss you.

- the thing about patrick is that after trying this, having this, in theory, he never wanted it again. it was messy. all he knew. messy. sex was easy and simple and was messy in the best way. he thought maybe it was his lack of faith that it could ever be like this. so he never stopped being happy with you. why would he? every fight was talked out, mature, you didn’t fight back to be petty and you didn’t give him the silent treatment for revenge. you sure as hell didn’t leave him for his best friend. you were everything right. and he thought this was all bullshit- finding that person. the right person. how could he look at you, the person who changed his life around and saved him from living in his car and not think that you were one hundred percent, without a doubt, perfect for him. you were you. and you were never sure if one baked good was better than another and he knew, watching you stirring a bowl of something with a bit of flour on your upper cheek and in your hair, that this was where he was meant to be.

- he had that same thought a few years later when you told him you were pregnant.

- and then later, when you’re retired. you turn to baking scones. patrick’s rackets on the wall, trophies, and you, in the kitchen, asking him if he likes the blueberry with cream scone better than the raspberry earl grey scone. he’s still got his sweet tooth.

taglist: @lalalandofive @kaaaiiaaa @ladystardust-thinks @reallycreativeusername @swetearss @romnticist @colorful-teaparty @senseofnewness

[eydika]

Custom Sugarcube 2 template inspired by Choice of Games and dashingdon

With the recent news of dashingdon shutting down I decided to dust off an old twine template. Might make the move to twine easier for some, might not, either way I had fun.

Template on itch.io

Template is compatible with the most recent Twine update (2.10.0)

Features:

Mobile friendly UI

Settings to change theme (white, sepia, dark), font (including a dyslexia friendly font), font size

Autosaving and custom save names

Toggleable notifications

A passage to choose custom pronouns; both by reader input and preset, as well as pronoun widgets for grammatical differences

Special passages labelled and explained

Multiple stat bars

Stylesheet and Javascript labelled to make everything easy to find and change

Custom macros (linked in file)

[theflashjaygarrick]

Today I want to talk about Cassandra Cain and the 'silent asian' trope.

From what I have read the silent Asian trope is seemingly a manifestation of the far older 'inscrutable Asian trope in Western culture and fiction. The inscrutable Asian trope positions Asian characters as the perpetual foreign other in comparison to a ''familiar' whiteness or Westernness. They are mercurial, mysterious, and 'exotic', hyper-competent and alluring but cold. Considering the white, Western gaze in which American media is created, these Asian characters are therefore constructed to be as distant and mysterious to the audience as they are to the characters. And it is in this way that Cass, even when she was (largely) silent challenges this trope.

I'm going to be analysing issue #2 of the Batgirl 2000 run. (it'll be a long post so I'm going to put this under a keep reading.

Cass is undoubtedly mysterious to the other (largely white) members of the Batfamily but through Batgirl 2000s the reader is made very aware of who she is. This is achieved through close narrative focus wherein the reader is more mostly supposed to be seeing the world from Cass’s perspective, not her from other peoples perspective.

This disparity between the inner world the audience is privy to and the external impression of her is made explicit in issue #2. We see explicitly that Babs finds Cass unknowable.

Cass’s shrug is snarky and she is smiling and looks pretty pleased with herself. But Barbara cannot understand what she means, and condescendingly berates Cass for not learning language and therefore not being able to talk to her like a ‘normal person’. Here we have a blatant case of the inscrutable Asian trope, but we aren’t meant to be seeing this story through Babs’ eyes. We’re seeing it through Cass’s.

Damon Scott’s art style here emphasises dynamic and clear expression over looking pretty or normal. Thus allows the reader to see the world through Cass’s eyes where the important information is equally communicated through pose and facial expressions. What would be micro expressions becoming macro expressions through Cass’s eyes. See how Babs’ friendly smile contorts into an exaggerated frown one panel apart. See again the smug and satisfied look on Cass’ face that in universe a skilled detective cannot decipher.

the characters in this (of all genders) are allowed to be expressive even when it is not attractive. The close ups are centred around their faces and their bodies in a way meant to convey emotion and unspoken thought, not sex appeal. Like compare this depiction of Babs and Cass to how Oracle is drawn by Ed Benes in birds of prey.

And unlike the inscrutable Asian Cass is allowed to be bold, opinionated, and snarky when silent. She’s allowed to have emotions so clear on her face that the reader can identify them beneath a full face mask. In a world where casting directors are still saying they don’t hire Asian actors because they ‘can’t emote enough’ drawing an Asian woman as one of the most expressive dc heroines is important.

In the rest of this Cass goes to find a missing man who she saved earlier in the issue. Oracle has located him in an abandoned derelict prison and Cass immediately throws herself into the situation. By the time she gets there however the man is already about to die. He’s been beaten too bad for anyone, even a Batgirl, to save him. And when he dies Cass stands there watching as the light leaves his eyes. She becomes brutal, although not murderous. And he when he dies he gives his wife the last letter he ever wrote. He asks this Batgirl to gave his final words to his wife.

Of course Cass does. And sees the tears drying in the widow’s eyes as the woman reads what he said (we don’t know what, Cass does not either). No other well meaning words or gestures can bring the relief and peace to that woman that his letter did. Seeing for the first time what the written word can mean to people Cass goes home to Oracle’s watchtowers and begins to try to learn to write.

And there we are one again introduced to the external perspective that sees Cass as unknowable. Who cannot begin to imagine what about seeing a man die after failing to save him would encourage her write when she never was interested before.

But we know. To the audience she is not inscrutable but instead a traumatised yet perfectly understandable young women. We are walked through her motives. see the world filtered through her point of view. Even with her speaking two words throughout this issue it is hard to call her silent.

[mortish-writes]

Don't mind me, I'll be playing with new fonts all week until I decide which one will win the competition for the new cover design. Well, actually I'll probably just put it to a poll. Anyway, I'm sure a lot of you have seen the rework breakdown on Patreon. You can follow for free and read it, I just won't be posting it here because it's a billion words. I do have a few things I forgot to add in the post that I'll mention below.

Serax Tweaks

Our dear Serax is getting a light attitude adjustment. In the current version he's a bit extra (I think I'm using that right) when compared to how I envisioned and drafted him. I might have prioritized fun banter over keeping him true to character. In the updated version, you'll notice a more reserved and calculating version of Serax. It won't be as easy to goad him into a verbal dual and when you do, it'll be a challenge to get the best of him. Serax is quite clever, witty, and cunning, and making him hot-headed/impulsive undermines those key aspects to his nature. That said, he will still be fun to needle and bicker with as he gets to know you better and open up, he just won't wear his boyish side on his sleeve. Part of the fun of building a relationship with him, especially if you're playing Fated Mates mode, will be getting him to open up and show you his playfulness.

I mentioned briefly that in Fated Mates mode you'll be able to develop an antagonistic relationship with him. It will be fairly intuitive, meaning you'll have to seek to provoke him in order to unlock this route. If you do so, take care to straddle the line between friendly antagonism and outright contempt. I'm not sidelining Serax's character development in the Fated Mates route, but if you make an enemy of him, heads will roll.

New Opener, Skintones, Hair, & Eye Colors

The body aspect of the story will be reworked. As I mentioned somewhere in the post (comments?) your story will begin waking up in Kalat on Night 1 with no memory of how you got there. Your memories will come back to you over the course of the prelude, with you defining your personality and backstory as you go. I think is a way better opening because it has you meeting the guys within the first ten passages, rather than having to relive your whole life before you get to the romance. Also, it opens the door for developing an initial sense of trust and comfort with the guys before you view them through the lens of a chaste vestal. If you're iffy/unsure how this will work, just hang tight, the new prelude will be available in a few days and I think you'll like it.

Shadewalker skintones will now be in The Nightborn Edition. If you choose these tones, the guys and the people you encounter in the story will treat you differently. With the guys, Valdricht will be particularly, um, gaze-y if you choose a shadewalker tone, while Serax will prefer human tones. These preferences will be minor, so don't feel compelled to choose a particular skin tone.

Cycle macro in action, no more clunky drop downs. I'll be editing those so that they're grammatically consistent, don't panic--

You will also have some more exotic drow-esque hair and eye colors. These will also be tracked and may change how you're perceived based on whether you choose human or shadewalker colors. Hair will have a minimal effect, mostly in the interest of not having to code too much. Eye color will mostly be something the guys remark upon.

My goal is to ensure that your body isn't just a blank slate. One of my favorite aspects of playing BG3 was initially playing as a tiefling, and then replaying as a drow and being blown away by how differently characters treated/responded to you. It was such a cool touch and really demonstrated how much thought the devs put into the game. I'm just one lady writing an IF, I won't have time to go crazy with accounting for every little thing, but I do intend to make sure your choices are meaningful and that when you replay with different characters it actually feels like you're a different person.

Fetishes

I've gotten a bunch of your Dark Maiden Mode fetish requests, keep on sending them. Just be sure to tick anon. I really like the ones that I've gotten so far and there hasn't been anything that makes me say "ew, what??" That's not a challenge, btw. A lot of them are things I already intended to add and others are things I was considering, so it's helpful to know where your heads are at. All of the ones I include will make sense for the characters and the setting. Largely, Dark Maiden Mode will be a submission/breed/dub-con storyline and we'll figure which fetishes can be neatly tailored into that sort of twisted tale. Do remember, it's still a romance, just one for a particular sort of reader.

[michaelnordeman]

Your photos of the wildlife are absolutely stunning. If I may ask, what kind of camera do you use?

Thank you so much for the lovely compliment—that really means a lot!

This is probably the question I get asked more than any other on the blog—and I don’t mind one bit. Whether you’re just curious, new to photography, experienced, or thinking about getting some gear yourself, I’m always happy to share what I use.

These days, my main setup for wildlife is the Canon R7 with the RF 100-500mm lens. It’s light, responsive, and has fantastic reach—perfect for birds, squirrels, and other fast-moving subjects. I also still use my Canon EOS 80D and 6D Mark II now and then, especially in certain lighting conditions.

For close-up shots of plants and insects, I rely on a Canon 100mm f/2.8L Macro lens—it’s wonderfully sharp and a real joy to work with.

My gear falls into the enthusiast category, which means it’s not exactly budget-friendly. If you’re just starting out or looking for something more affordable, there are great options out there—Canon makes solid entry-level cameras, and third-party lenses from brands like Sigma and Tamron can offer excellent image quality at a lower cost. Just be aware that some newer Canon models don’t support third-party lenses, so it’s worth double-checking before buying.

Also: don’t overlook the second-hand market! There’s a lot of excellent used gear in great condition out there, often at a fraction of the original price.

In the end, it’s less about having the “best” camera and more about having one that feels right for you—one that helps you stay in the moment and enjoy being out in nature.

Thanks again for your kind words, and happy shooting! Looking forward to seeing where your curiosity takes you. 😊

[jellipsis]

Teaser: Eating and Training like a Billionaire Superhero...

trying to make a billionaire superhero friendly pancake... Was watching Kokohome's New Zealand video... where the person made a banana-oat pancake... Trying to build a banana, oat, chocolate pancake, using the same methods, but with a few small tweaks... Anyway, thanks for the read... -J.... Ps. if you support this post with likes, emotion positive comments, and shares, I'm more likely to turn this item into a reality, UFRH. here's to your best eats.... -J....

[yellowdribble]

Thinking about micro/macro omorashi scenerios~

I’ve seen a couple people touch on the subject, but in general I think micro/macro omorashi is kind of an untouched goldmine

Obviously there’s so much potential for a micro character to get desperate in a world that’s too big for them

(Someone may have done this one- I don’t remember- but sharing anyway) A fairy or other small micro getting captured in a jar by a macro character and getting increasingly desperate while in their clear glass confinement that offers absolutely no privacy. also imagine the macro being kinda mean and shaking the jar on purpose to torture the micro eventually making them wet

Maybe a micro character that got stuck in a macro world unexpectedly- and this guy is the type to never pee outside or any unusual places. He will ONLY pee in a toilet thank you very much. So he gets taken in by a macro character and when the need arises, he attempts to use the ginormous toilet that’s in the macro house. Unfortunately he falls in and almost drowns. So now he’s too terrified to use the toilet, but too stubborn to explore other options of relieving himself. So the next time he needs to pee, he just holds it. obviously he cant hold it forever though.

There could also be the simple fear wetting- a micro encounters a macro and is absolutely terrified at seeing such a huge monstrous being! So scared that maybe at first they don’t notice that warm patch growing in their pants

A friendly macro who carries a micro in their pocket, but one day the micro is super desperate, but too shy to let the macro know. So micro is just bouncing around in this giants pocket, feeling every giant footstep and gripping their crotch for dear life. Eventually they can’t take it any more. They start to leak, and then those leaks turn to spurts and eventually their bladder just gives in and empties. The macro is confused as to why their pocket with their tiny friend is starting to get warm and wet.

A macro finds a micro character, and omg they’re so cute!! The micro is just like a little doll! You can put them in cute little doll clothes and have a tea party, and this doll actually will drink the tea and make conversation back. When the tea party is over, the macro can just put the micro in their doll house. After all everything is just the right size, right?

Unfortunately all that very real tea makes its way to the micros very real bladder, and when they run to the dollhouse bathroom desperate to go- they find that when they open the lid to the toilet- there’s no place to actually pee in! There’s not even a hole under the lid, it’s one of those cheap plastic toy furniture items that just has a sticker to give the impression of something being there. Now where are they supposed to pee?

The micro tries to hold it until their macro friend comes back, but will they make it in time?

Will the macro return to a wiggling living doll who’s squirming around doing their best not to make a mess of their pretty clothes or the pretty dollhouse

Or will they come back to a micro who’s already wet with tears streaming down their face

Micros are always the obvious choice as an omo victim, but I was also thinking…what if we reverse it?

Anyone who’s read Gulliver’s Travels is familiar with the scene where Gulliver puts out a fire with his pee

What if we had a macro who’s gotta pee, but there’s no fire to put out. Instead, if they did pee- it would actually cause damage to the town of micro people they’ve found. (You don’t wanna flood the streets and drown the townsfolk with a massive golden tsunami)

So while they’re visiting their tiny friends they just gotta hold it- and being the only giant it’s kinda hard to hide your potty dance from prying eyes

[vallification]

porco galliard headcanons!!!

notes: au/noncanon oriented, some apply to canon too, maybe a few mature themes!!! may be slightly ooc because i’m not super familiar with porco but i’ve been Trying okay

let me know your thoughts!!!

porco’s eyes are definitely a brown-hazel, but he won’t let you forget that they’re actually hazel, NOT brown

he hates the nickname “pock” until everyone starts calling him pock.

his sense of style is everything that’s trending, however he does style it with a liiiittle bit of personality

he’s very easily influenced

porco loves watches and stacking necklaces. he has a few hand-me-down watches and necklaces but he likes to thrift them too

he’s a silver guy but if the swag requires gold he doesn’t mind

porco loves photography and has a fancy camera. he likes street/city photography and any sort of scenic view. sometimes he’ll take candids of his friends if the natural composition is appealing

porco also loves architecture. he likes taking pictures of buildings, drawing buildings, and designing his own buildings. he prefers to use rulers for the straight lines but is inhumanly good at freehanding them

he wears glasses, clear roundish-squarish ones

he loves being outside. he loves skiing and snowboarding

it’s hard for him to make tight bonds and maintain friendships, so he’s close to pieck and his brother but not many other people.

socializing one on one with someone he’s not well acquainted with is draining for him, so he prefers to socialize in large groups like parties

porco can be kind of a dick. he’s not evil or anything, he’s just not very welcoming or friendly.

porco loves leather-bound sketchbooks and buys them if they appeal to him. however, he can’t seem to fill them up— when he buys a new one he forgets the old one

he likes customizing his phone case, laptop, and mirrors with random stickers. he won’t go out of his way to buy stickers but when he has one he’s sticking it to something

he loves mints and takes them with him everywhere. he also keeps a bag of toiletries with him. you’re never going to catch him smelling gross.

porco has a very dry and sarcastic sense of humor

he doesn’t have a sweet tooth at all, he’s a savory kind of guy and likes all things pickled and spicy.

he has a strict fitness regime, gym and diet included. porco is the protein-slop eating gym dude who doesn’t care what his food looks like as long as it meets his macros

he does Not like being teased or joked about, even if it’s all in good fun.

porco definitely takes himself too seriously but it’s hard not to when he feels like he’s competing against marcel.

he hates when people talk loudly on the phone in public. it ruins the vibe

he’s a pc guy and loves rpgs. he’s played alllllll of the elder scrolls and fallout games

porco can be rather passive aggressive and that tone of voice/demeanor is hard for him to shake

porco would definitely run track and play basketball. he didn’t make the football team. he always wanted to play but refused to be a bench warmer

porco could hold a grudge against a fucking ladybug.

by the way, a lot of these were inspired by @/jeanbie’s teen porco headcanons!!!

[4ragon]

Hello hello my brain has been churning so it’s time for me to completely rewrite spirit of justice

So this is a writing exercise for me. I already rewrote dual destinies, but I think my ideas for a SoJ rewrite would be way more intensive. And that’s because, more than dual destinies, I think the overall story needs to be completely gutted, completely reworked from the ground up. And that is for one reason and one reason only:

I kind of hate the premise.

Like. On a fundamental level. I hate Khura’in conceptually and in practice. I think adding the death risk for every other case and the country ending stakes just sort of serves to cheapen the core of ace attorney (and that’s not touching on the xenophobia just sort of always prickling in the background). Like. This feels like power creep, in a series where that absolutely should not have power creep.

And yet. And yet and yet. There are so many things to love about spirit of justice. I am not a spirit of justice hater in my heart of hearts. I like most of the cases, I like many of the new characters. There are elements to the structure, the back and forth of the gameplay, the new fun gimmicks, even the nostalgia bait can be fun. And hey, overall, the baseline story, the betrayals and twists, those work. It’s literally just the setting.

So this leaves me with this fun thought: how do I rewrite Spirit of Justice and keep it intact while removing Khura’in as a concept. How do I gut the entirety of Spirit of Justice and still keep the spirit of it the same? The spirit of spirit of justice if you will.

So without further ado, let’s get started.

Part 1: The macro level

So for the big picture, there are two massive changes I want to make. But to start with the most obvious, I want to replace Khura’in. But this leads to an obvious issue.

Replace with what?

The secret illegal underground court of course!!

This was from an interview with the SoJ team, where they talk about some of their original concepts for the game. And one of the first ideas pitched was this idea of a secret underground court for criminals, where everyone involved wears masks to keep their identities hidden. They just casually drop the coolest idea and then go with a way worse one. It drives me bonkers.

This presents us with a massive amount of retrofitting. Some of the cases work fine with this new format, and some don’t. It brings us to a whole host of new questions: with a story like this, how do we keep the core of what made SoJ fun? How do we take the new characters, who are completely tied into what the setting is, and recreate them while keeping their stories and arcs in place? How do we keep the dual protagonists of Apollo and Phoenix? Is there a way to manage this without throwing Athena to the side?

This I think brings me to my other massive change. And to be fair, this one isn’t NECESSARY to fixing SoJ. In fact, it may break it even more. However, it fixes several completely different problems, and I think it’s worth looking at.

Put Spirit of Justice before Dual Destinies.

What??? you cry, shock wringing through you like a hand has clawed its way through the computer screen and grabbed onto your spine like a handrail. What are you talking about? How does that fix anything??

Well, my fine feathered friend (sorry, I’m imagining you as a friendly parakeet to drive away my natural inclination toward anxiety) let me describe my vision to you.

First, we fix a huge issue millions of likeminded players have come across: we needed another story between AJ and DD. The shift in protagonists was too fast. Apollo needed time to breathe, to grow, to settle in before turning the status quo onto its head again.

And we, uh, somewhat fix another issue. That issue being that Athena is maaaaaybe a bit extraneous in this game. And listen. I am an Athena fan first and a human second. This is fact. However…she really didn’t matter to SoJ at all. So why not use SoJ to do more work with the boys and let DD have its own Athena-centric sequel, instead of introducing her and then just immediately tossing her aside?

Third fix: I fucking hate the ending of SoJ and this makes it easier to either chuck that bitch. (Or if you really wanted you could have him gone from DD until the final case so that Athena got more time in the spotlight but that’s a completely new rewrite and I don’t have time for that.)

Again. Second change is not a hard rule, because it does create just as many problems as it fixes. It means we get rid of Athena, which hurts me. It requires a LOT of work to make it fit. However. This is more writing exercise than anything else. As I said in my DD fix, the main issues there are thematic and structural, and so that rewrite is a completely different beast than this one. Last time, the bones remained in tact and we just had to adjust the meat.

So. Those are my two macro level changes. Now let’s debone this bitch.

Part 2: Plot changes

Biggest issue: how do we keep a semblance of soj’s plot with these changes? It’s time for a plot outline.

How does the story start in the game? We have Phoenix Wright, tourist. He travels to a foreign country, gets a tour guide, and fucks around while he waits for Maya. While he waits, his child tour guide gets arrested, and suddenly he’s thrown into a completely foreign justice system, in more ways than one hyuk hyuk rimshot. Everything is different. New judge, new rules, new mechanics. Everyone is hostile to him, even his own client. But in the end he prevails, and saves the kiddo.

We then spend the next several cases jumping back and forth between The Boys ™ as we introduce our new prosecutor and start dropping hints of an overarching plot. Near the end, Phoenix and Apollo confront each other, and then they go and defend Apollo’s old foster father in the other courts, basically starting a revolution and collapsing the old system.

And then Apollo jumps ship but I wasn’t crazy about that so w/e we’ll fix it in post

So. This is the general outline. Honestly, without the specifics, it doesn’t look too bad, right? There’s intrigue, there’s betrayal, etc etc. But now we need to start from the beginning. What are we changing and what are we making work?

To start. Why are Apollo and Phoenix separated?

Because Phoenix doesn’t have a badge.

We’re leaving DD intact for this project. Even if we’re putting this together with my DD rewrite, Phoenix doesn’t get his badge until the orca. That is non negotiable. You fools. You rubes.

And then this, naturally prevents him from participating in the normal trials. The legal trials. The Apollo trials. And hey. Maybe this also makes Phoenix more appealing to an underground court. He’s separate from the courts now. He still is an outsider, even with his name cleared, but he’s still very knowledgeable and good at defense. He’d be perfect for something underground, something secret, legal matters that can’t be brought to a real lawyer.

So now we have that divide, the same way we do in the original game. What else do we need to work on?

Ah right. The royal family drama. But I mean come on. Why wouldn’t this sort of stuff work with gangsters? Yakuza? Mob bosses?

So we have a powerful family. Powerful and dangerous, running a society. And there are power grabs, even within families, even ones that tear families apart. A man marries a woman of standing within this family. He’s a lawyer, and a good one at that. He helps keep order in this society, because I mean there needs to be some order within the chaos. But then he’s cast out after the murder of his wife, his own children maligned for his actions because these are people who rule through fear.

Like. I’m so serious about this. It fits just as well with criminals as it does with a royal family.

And. Hear me out. Okay we’re going big brain crazy here.

Why the hell can’t they be a Fey branch family from several generations ago that broke off and had to become criminals to survive? Look me in the eye and tell me why we can’t keep that connection and have that as a fucking twist???

Powerful family. Criminals. But they’ve always had an edge up from other criminals in the business because all of their girl children have ESP. They can interview the dead. They can threaten the living. They bastardized the Fey clan’s abilities to see a person’s final moments. No knowledge is beyond their grasp, and therefore they’ve well established themselves in the criminal underbelly since the main branch rejected them several generations ago (for, yknow, an assassination attempt because that happens all the time for the Feys).

There. Boom. Suddenly we have the same plot but different setting. We have a way to fit it all in. Hell, we can even give Maya an honest to god reason to be here with this, which was very high priority for the SoJ team.

And this leads me to another change to make. Because, yes, the tragic truth is that this story likely means that Athena can’t be a part of it. This does fucking suck. I’ve been trying to think real hard of a way to work her in here, as like an intern, or using this to touch on how Athena and Phoenix met. And while I’m not saying it’s impossible, I feel like it brings us back to the issue of DD: namely, too many characters vying for attention, meaning no one can have a satisfying character arc. And that’s not fair to her, nor is it fair to the cast we have now. She needs space to breathe, and I don’t think this game is it.

…Maya, however…

Maya needs more screen time. She needs an arc. She needs character growth.

What if…we replace Maya as Apollo’s assistant?

What if Trucy gets to be an assistant to Apollo and Phoenix throughout?

What if cutting down on one character who doesn’t get the chance to have an arc lets us focus on the two who need it?

Because let’s face it. The 3D games do the girls dirty. Trucy is barely a presence, and we don’t ever get to see the quick witted girl who fakes her own kidnapping. Maya feels like she’s just there for nostalgia and all of her growth seems so surface level. Athena has a fun introduction and then immediately gets shafted the first chance the writers get. Rayfa…no okay Rayfa is perfect, but everyone else! We need arcs. We need more women!!!

So. We have our baseline for the major overarching plot changes. Now let’s get into characters.

Part 3: Characters

First of all, here is my handy dandy chart of SoJers.

This is just a quick glance. In this overview I probably will not touch on that last section in much detail, those are mostly just pipe dreams.

So let’s take a snapshot of some of our main cast of characters, starting with just some baseline changes to the Khura’in cast.

Dhurke - So we’re going to keep him as a defense attorney I think, even before he joined ‘the life’. That being said, I do think it’s important to keep him as morally in the right as possible. We could do a redemption arc of sorts, but there is no way we can have him as ‘defence attorney that gets the yakuza off the hook for serious crimes.’ So we have to strike at least some sort of balance here.

My idea is thus: He’s still a defense attorney, and he does take up the defense of the wrongfully accused. He believes in justice and goodness and truth. He falls in love with a woman named Amara with a mysterious past, and she pulls him into The Life to help defend someone from the gang’s internal justice system. He’s not directly a criminal, but he’s helping them solve problems peacefully instead of just a life of an eye for an eye. He becomes popular, and is helping some of the people get out and lead an honest life. His girlfriend/wife/whatever wants out of the life, and he wants to help reform this family.

And then Amara is ‘killed’ in a fire bombing or something, along with a musician they just happened to have over the night of the attack. Gar’an convinces everyone that he’s actually been planning to kill the family and take over, and/or that he never really loved Amara yadda yadda. Dhurke has to flee with his son, and also the random baby of the musician, and live in hiding for a while. When it starts getting too dangerous, he sends Apollo to foster care, though he worries that the family knows to look for Nahyuta and can’t offer him the same kind of protection that way.

Again. Does it fit perfectly? No. Especially Amara: I think it’d be hard to justify keeping her as the ‘true queen’ in this scenario if the play is that she wants out of The Life. But on the flip side, I feel like so often when we look at Fey family politics, so much of it is “younger/weaker sister jealous of other sister” and honestly what’s wrong with looking at other ways this dynamic is fucked up? More on that when we get to Gar’an.

Rayfa - …Okay, yeah, I want to keep Rayfa as intact as possible. She’s very fun. She’s been raised in the lap of luxury, but also with immense pressure over her head to perform since she’s a psychic and this family needs to hold onto power very tightly if they hope to survive in the criminal underworld. She’s spoiled and headstrong, and she thinks she’s basically an adult because she’s been given adult responsibilities, even though she is just a naive little kid who’s barely even begun learning about the world. She pretends to know everything and has a nanny who has to whisper things into her ear so no one notices she doesn’t know everything.

This character concept still works so fucking great. We can even keep her doofy little dance. Her gimmick is very fun, and I would hate to have to delete it.

Nahyuta - Yeah okay Nahyuta needs the most work. However, the real Nahyuta also needs the most work. I wouldn’t call myself a Nahyuta fan. I kind of fucking hate him sometimes? Not all the time but. Like. He’s nothing. He’s so nothing. Maybe it’s because I’m not a fan of religious characters, and that’s kind of his only character trait? Like the moments I enjoy of him are the moments where he’s like “anyway and then I went to this fascinating restaurant called ‘burger time burgers’ and ordered a ‘burger’ and then I memorized the wikipedia page for knock knock jokes” and it’s like wait okay that part is fucking funny. But way more often than not, it’s this like “My religion tells me you're going to hell and also I’m better than you” and I get enough of that in real life thank you very much.

See like. Every prosecutor needs to start off as someone to hate. I think I hated every prosecutor to start with, because they were frustrating and condescending. But every one of those characters gets development before the final case. It’s about peeking behind the curtain and seeing a heart of gold, or someone struggling to overcome their own flaws. The mean shithead who is afraid of connection, the person struggling with grief and lashing out, the powerless martyr.

That last one is what Nahyuta is supposed to be, but we do not get enough peaks behind the curtain for me to feel any sympathy. And also, unlike Simon Blackquill, he doesn’t come off as a prickly jerk who is hiding that he cares. He comes off as a fucking self aggrandizing asshole who uses his religion to browbeat the people around him up until like hour 40. We don’t see cracks, we don’t see him struggling with that. He’s actively calling for our deaths and telling us that hell is real.

But religion is the lens that we see everything through for Nahyuta. If we’re getting rid of Khura’in, we’re probably getting rid of Khura’inism too. Does that leave us with anything if we’re yeeting his main gimmick?

So. What are we replacing Nahyuta with? Again, I want to keep the spirit of this game. I want to keep the core. Nahyuta as Apollo’s stepbrother is a good plot point. Nahyuta as a martyr too, who’s willing to sacrifice anyone or anything for his family. Like. That part is interesting! It’s the inverse of Blackquill: This girl is in danger, so instead of sacrificing myself, I’ll sacrifice the whole world and everything I believe in.

My thoughts are this: I want to keep him incredibly pretty and gentle and calm, and juxtapose that with him being a huge part of a crime syndicate in secret. He’s not a monk anymore, but he’s still dressed in white, with long white hair and a calm smile. I think we need more focus on the contradictions than anything else. He’s calm and serene, and he’s working for the mob, and he’s threatening, but not in an in your face way, because he’s way too pretty for that. He’s a know-it-all and condescending, but we get glimpses past the curtain to see he’s working WAY too hard to keep that up by spending all night researching rakugo and burger restaurants. I think it’d be fun for him to be very formal and polite and occasionally slip into like more aggressive speech when he gets cornered.

Also. Uh. Yeah, he’s still a prosecutor. Like legally. And he wears a mask in the underground court, which was part of the original idea for an underground court. Does this make any sense? No. But it’s not that left field for Ace Attorney so fuck you I’m keeping it. He joined the prosecutor's office to try to infiltrate it for the mob. Yeah sure that’s why Miles is there and him taking down a crime syndicate gets his promotion in DD. W/e we’re keeping Miles.

Gar’an and Amara - I mean, I touched on her earlier, but Gar’an as the older sister repeating the sins of the past. They escaped from the life of the Fey family just to recreate it. Sisters being pit against each other. Still trying to decide if Amara is the more powerful sister, but either way, Gar’an as the older sister who can and will do anything to prevent the ‘weaker’ sibling from usurping her. Because even when the Fey family dynamic is running smoothly, even when no one is trying to take over control, there’s still a power dynamic forcing siblings to see each other as competition, to see one child as less important, as expendable.

So Gar’an as a tyrant. Even though she’s in control, she’s terrified of slipping. She manipulates and lies, and to no end, because her sister loves her, and she was never in danger in the first place.

Also. A few quick changes to Amara’s story. As I put forth earlier, Amara doesn’t want power. She wants freedom. She loves her sister, but also hates the life of a criminal her family leads.

But also, what the fuck is the waffling between whether or not she believes Dhurke is trying to kill her. No. Delete.

In SoJ it’s played completely straight that she went into hiding, and then ran away with Dhurke and got pregnant, and then went back into hiding and became re-convinced that Dhurke was a murderer. That’s stupid. Why did they do this? What are you talking about, girl? Like you could argue she was lying about falling for it again, and maybe I need to rewatch that section but it really didn’t feel like it.

So we tweak it. We tweak the stakes, and also, we tweak the motivations for both Amara and Nahyuta.

I think in normal SoJ it’s kiiiiiiind of clear why Nahyuta was doing what he was doing? But also not. Because what danger is Rayfa in? If he disobeys, then Gar’an will tell everyone that Dhurke is her real dad. Or. Something? And then everyone will hate her ass because the child is responsible for the sins of their father.

Which is. Stupid. That’s stupid. Hey? That’s stupid. That’s nothing.

Does that mean she’s going to be persecuted? No, because Nahyuta wasn’t. It literally just means she won’t be princess anymore and everyone will shun her. Which. Yeah. That sucks that she won’t be rich and powerful anymore, and that she’s suddenly going to be miserable, but Nahyuta has probably been responsible for the deaths of thousands of innocents and letting people die so that your sister can be rich is Not It. Not proportional. Rayfa can survive suddenly being poor. It’ll suck. It’ll be awful. But she can survive.

Unless you make it VERY CLEAR that she’s actually in danger if this happens. Which is easy when you are a part of a crime syndicate.

So like. Now Nahyuta has an actual reason to let people die for his sister. And now we have a reason for Amara to go back into hiding for real. Because her sister gives up on just convincing her that her husband is evil and just goes mask off.

Is it perfect? No. But I want to keep Nahyuta and Rayfa as siblings, and this works way better than whatever the fuck was going on in that game.

Holy hell this is getting long, I’m so sorry guys, we still have a ways to go.

Phoenix - Less to talk about here. He’s Phoenix. He’s largely unchanged. Really I think the biggest thing to look at is his characterization, if we’re trying to bridge the gap between Beanix and Dual Destinies. He’s less sure of himself, especially being caught up in this weird underground court. He just cleared his name, but he hasn’t picked himself up off the ground yet. And suddenly he’s being dragged into a world of criminality and trying to protect the innocent even without a badge.

Again. It’s not a ton, but I think it’s more interesting than “Man from Japanifornia suddenly has to fix a foreign country.” That has some weird colonialist implications that I wasn’t fond of. Plus, now he can be cryptic some more trying to keep his daughter, friend, and protege out of whatever the hell he’s been dragged into.

Apollo - Also? Not much to talk about. In fact, I think Apollo’s story remains kind of identical? All the plot beats for him are the same. He still gets to work out his daddy issues. Good for him.

Maya - Heeeeeere we go. Now we're getting into something tasty. What do we do with Maya Fey?

So I kind of hated what we got with SoJ. Not so much in terms of personality, I wasn’t too put off by how she acted. It was just the idea that it was 9 years later and she still wasn’t ‘master’ material. What do you mean she had to study because she was still only getting a 60% success rate? What do you meannnnnn??

So yeah. Master of Kurain Maya. She’s matured a bunch and taken on a leadership role, but she’s still the same old Maya at the end of the day.

Honestly? Why not have the story of this branch family being ostracised and then recreating the same Fey dynamics affect her? Here she is, trying to manage the responsibility of a people, and here is a glimpse into what her family has been. Sisters controlling each other. Families broken apart by fear. What does that mean for her? She had this responsibility thrust upon her. She who wanted to run away by the end of AA3. She who is trying so hard not to let her and Pearly repeat the mistakes of their moms.

And here is all that backstabbing and hate, still happening because of the Fey family several generations ago. How do you contend with that? It’s not just you, it’s not just your mothers, it’s gone back generations.

Anyway. And then she and Rayfa become friends and Rayfa moves to Kurain. And Nahyuta too I guess? The And.

Trucy - Ohhhhhhhhh this is the hardest one. Because Trucy is so absent from this game but I want her to be a part of it so bad. What the fuck is she up to?

I think hers needs to be about family too. All of them need to be about family. This is a game about family. We need more about her figuring out her real family. Who’s important to her. What family even MEANS.

We have Maya trying to unpack her generational trauma, and so is Trucy. Case 2 is a great place to fit that in, and I wish they focused on that. And I think at the end of the game, Trucy has to convince Apollo to stay and also reconnect with his family from before. Because family can be a lot of things and Trucy needs to learn how to balance her new family ties and her old.

These are my starting points for her. Again, way less in the baseline to work with, but I think this is the basis of a compelling story. Because case 2 was my favorite in the game (I’m sorry Grace I’m so sorry Grace) but it also could’ve easily worked to hone in on that theme. Found family over a terrible family creed. It’s perfect.

OH FUCK I FORGOT EMA IM SO SORRY GIRL YOU SHOULD BE ON THAT CHART IM S

Ema - I’m so sorry I forgot you. I don’t think her being a forensic investigator yet makes sense timeline wise, but she is still the best choice for a detective. And hell, it’s not like detectives necessarily need a ton of development. God knows Gumshoe didn’t need some sort of wild arc to work in his role of recurring detective.

So yeah. Largely the same roll as the game for the normal trials, but she’s still miffed about not making forensics, and studying, and using cases for studying.

Maybe Phoenix can bring her in to do some forensics for him on the side during his section? After all, if he’s no longer dealing with a real court, it’s not like Ema being an official forensic investigator is going to matter.

Also. Like. I can’t believe they never touched on this in the game, but have her fucking call out Nahyuta on doing the same bullshit as Lana. Sacrificing his morals for the sake of saving his little sister, preventing them from having a real relationship in the process. Have her point that out!

I think her interactions with Nahyuta could go a long way in humanizing him. Because he’s condescending and a dick, but he cares about his family, and we need to SEE that. We need to FEEL that.

Part 4: the cases

Okay. This is going to need more restructuring than DD and so I’m not going to go through the entire game. In part because I think we’d need to create several new cases whole cloth and I’m not ready for that yet. So at the least I’m going to outline what we currently have, what I think works, and what doesn’t.

Current SoJ -

Case 1 - The worst tutorial in the series do not @ me, introducing us to the world of Khura’in, the new rules, new judge, and new gimmick. Establishing Phoenix’s reasons for being there, as well as Maya’s.

Case 2 - All case twos have a few things in common. They introduce us to investigations, to the full main cast, and they always have some personal stakes for a central character to pull them into the world. 1-2 Maya is accused. 2-2 Maya is accused. 3-2 Maya is robbed. 4-2 Trucy is robbed. DD breaks this habit, but I think bringing it back for 6-2 helped solidify it as memorable. While the Mr. Rheus stuff was a bit too retconny on the Gramarye stuff, I think the case itself is a solid intro to the world.

Case 3 - Reintroducing us to Maya, and giving us assistant Rayfa. Case where we learn the full stakes of the secondary setting. Maya is accused again, which is kind of annoying, but I think channeling a man who has incentive to lie was fascinating. Hard to translate since Maya has no reason to be a part of this setting, but we can work with it.

Case 4 - Rakugo. I know we usually have one case that is just to let the characters breathe, but truly this gave us nothing. I’m sorry. It’s a fun case! Even in base game it could be removed and not matter. Case three is usually where we start to see the facades of the prosecutor slip, or gain an important piece of information about them, but even if they did, Apollo and Phoenix aren’t here for it to matter to them.

Case 5 (Civil Court) - Conceptually interesting, but kind of annoying in execution. I adore Apollo and Dhurke adventures, and honestly, I kind of love Dhurke being dead the whole time. I think Maya being kidnapped again was a bit much, especially since the same thing happens again with DD. That being said, I don’t know what else would make Phoenix take what’s-his-face’s side without a LOT of rewriting. Also without the line of succession stuff this whole thing would need to be completely replaced with something new.

Case 5 (Khura’in) - Again, causing a coup in a foreign country feels wrong. But the family drama? Now that is juicy. This section I think can stay mostly intact. Even the part about breaking the queen’s hold on the people could be reworked as a tyrannical mob boss finally being dethroned.

I don’t have a ton of clear ideas what I want to do with the cases individually. I know replace the tutorial and the Athena case, but the rest still need to be refit with the new setting in mind. My brain has turned to mush though so that is a job for a future JJ perhaps.

Anyway. That’s kind of it. That’s all I got. I’m full of soup and my brain is full of empty. Tune in next time for my Athena Cykes sequel: Athena Cykes 2. And Knuckles.

[ms-demeanor]

Re the "ask a bodybuilder" thing: I have some friends who lowkey lift, and one of them described a "macro-friendly" dessert recipe they'd seen (with a tone of mockery). My immediate thought was "eating disorder For Him", to which both friends agreed that "yeah, no, ask any professional bodybuilder how they get in shape for shows and they know it's dysfunctional"

Yeah, the behavior that bodybuilders use when on a cut (losing weight and getting lean for a show/season) is absolutely not a healthy or sustainable approach to food; generally they know this and they are aware that there are some times of year when they're going to be functionally starving themselves (and dehydrating themselves - they will absolutely skip water in the days before a show so they have more visible veins and muscle striations) but actually what I was talking about there went in the other direction (bulking rather than cutting). It's really really really really hard to put on weight if your body doesn't want to put on weight. It's really hard to keep that weight on. It's hard to gain muscle and it's easy to lose it. And I know plenty of people who are naturally very thin who have struggled to put on weight.

But we only really present one side of this equation and I think it's worthwhile to talk about both. Not in an "oh skinny people are oppressed too" way, but in an "look actually changing your body composition requires a level of effort that is bugfuck insane to ask of people and if you wouldn't ask a thin person to put on ten pounds of muscle because of the effort that would require, why are you comfortable telling a fat person to lose fifty pounds in spite of the effort that requires?" way.

[samhaft]

Is the new album going to give us more lore about Rust? Similar to Zero-One did for him?

(Also Already bought my ticket for your world tour show, CANT WAIT!)

Yes a bit, but much in the way zero_one the album is not ABOUT zero_one, it’s about self-actualization and the lore elements are more subtextual (save for the title track), the Rust album is ABOUT fascism and dystopian elements of society, and it is ‘lore-friendly’ but it’s never like “here’s a song about a guy called Rust and his adventures.” There IS a track entitled Rust, but if anything it’s more about what Rust represents in a macro sense.