#me posting on a tuesday night at 8pm ?? wonderful

[oldsalempost-blog]

The Old Salem post

Our  Local Tamassee-Salem SC Area News each Monday except holidays          Contact: theoldsalempost@gmail.com                                                     Distributed to local businesses, town hall, library.                                        Volume 7 Issue 1                                                                                                Week of November 21,  2022                https://www.tumblr.com/settings/blog/oldsalempost-blog                                                         Lynne Martin Publishing

EDITOR: If I have done the math, the volumes, and issues correctly, we can say Happy Birthday  to THE OLD SALEM POST which is beginning its 7th year in print.  The Old Salem Post began as a voice for our Tamassee-Salem communities.  We have local stories and events to share.  We are our own walking-talking history, and who better to tell it than “us” who have a love and passion for good news, and old news.  Thank you to all my readers and everyone who share news and events. Thank you to Ashton and Jeannie for contributing to The Old Salem Post each week.  Thank you to the Town of Salem.  I am thankful!  I hope you think on the many blessings in your life to be thankful for. Tell those who share in your life that you are grateful for them. And most of all, send up a prayer of thanks to the Creator of all of our blessings!  Happy Thanksgiving to All!  LRMartin                                                                                      

TOWN OF SALEM:  *Downtown Market every Sat. 8am-12pm. Christmas Parade Dec 4 at 4pm. Line up at 3pm.  Call the town to register, 944-2819   DROP OFF for TOYS for TOTS!                                              

JOCASSEE VALLEY BREWING COMPANY,(JVBC)& COFFEE SHOP 13412 N Hwy 11 Open Wed--Fri- Sat, 8am-9pm. Sunday 2pm-7pm.   Thurs: CLOSED: HAPPY THANKSGIVING Fri: Food: WING WAGON SOUTH Music: According to Taste 6:30pm   Sat: Music: Spalding McIntosh 6:30pm  Food:   INKED CHEF South American Fusion, 2pm-7pm .  Sun. 2pm-7pm   Call 864-873-0048                                                                                                              

                             ASHTON RECALLS        By Ashton Hester                                MILLION LABELS NETTED DAR SCHOOL A NEW VAN IN 1992 - (The following story was in the November 11, 1992 issue of the Keowee Courier). . .The Tamassee DAR School has exchanged 1,135,400 labels from Campbell's products for a 1993 15-passenger Dodge van. . .Representatives of the Campbell Soup Company and Friendly Dodge of Seneca presented the keys to H. Dean Bare, the DAR School's Director of Administration, at a ceremony Monday morning. . .This climaxed a drive that began 18 months ago when the school began saving labels for the van in conjunction with Campbell's "Labels for Education" program. . .Local residents along with members of the Daughters of the American Revolution from across the nation provided labels. Some labels were printed in French, Spanish and Japanese. . .The 1,135,400 labels, which filled 60 boxes weighing over 800 pounds, was the fifth highest number collected by the 25,000-plus participants in the 1991-92 Labels for Education program. . .Campbell awards about eight vans per year to organizations that save the required number of labels. They award a variety of less-expensive prizes for fewer labels. . .Tamassee DAR School began participating in the Labels for Education program in 1984, and in past years it has received microwave ovens, a large-screen color TV, computers, and other appliances. A microwave oven requires about 15,000 labels, and a large-screen color TV requires about 25,000.                

Cliffs Resident Outreach:  Please share with our area parents; free monthly books from the Dolly Parton Imagination Library (DPIL) are available.  Any child under the age of 5 is eligible for this program.  The books are wonderful &  age appropriate.  The registration can be done thru a form at the Salem Library or on line thru the DPIL website.   Books are mailed to the child’s home monthly at NO COST!  What a wonderful program.    864-944-0912 for Library assistance.  

The Honeycomb Project:  The Honeycomb Project has been established to increase our knowledge and understanding of who we are in the Lord, our purpose and destiny in our Creator, our authority in the Lord, and why some of us are not fulfilling that purpose and destiny.   Proverbs 16:24  “Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.”  We meet on Tuesday nights 7pm-8pm.  I will send a Zoom link if you send me your email address or cell phone number. You will need to download a Zoom app on your phone, computer or ipad. Our FB group is called The Honeycomb. My FB is Martha Loftis Watson. Call 843-992-0393.( “Miss Loftis” was a teacher for many of us at T-Salem High!)                                                      

Thoughts on the Teacher Shortage: It might not be about the money.  It might be about an unrealistic work load causing you to leave a job you loved that once filled your cup. Money does not fix unrealistic expectations. L Martin                    HOMEWORK: Studies show that students from private schools have higher academic success than those from public schools.   Do some homework and study where the real gap is!  

JOTTINGS FROM JEANNIE:  Reflections on Emily Bronte's LAST LINES   "Though  Earth and Man were gone And sun and universe ceased to be, And Thou, Divine Creator, were left alone Every existence would exist in thee."  Remember the COLD WAR? For most of our lives, it seemed a real possibility that a nuclear Holocaust loomed on the horizon.   Friends, it's getting ugly and hateful again.  I offer you this gemlike gift of poetry to commit to memory and tuck away in your heart... What ever lies ahead, GOD'S GOT THIS... Happy Thanksgiving! We can all feel blessed that providence brought us to dwell in Oconee County!  Love,  Miz Jeannie                                        

EAGLES NEST ART CENTER , 501c3, 4 Eagle Lane, Salem                                                                                                                                                             Dec 3, 2022, 7pm a Christmas Performance by Darin and Brooke Aldridge. Tickets available at the Town of Salem, Ticketleap or Call 864-280-1258.  Doors open at 6pm for general seating. Enjoy concessions and our Treasure Room.  Be a Sponsor this Special Christmas Show on all levels from $1000 to $100 for your name on the evening program.                                                                                                                                                                                                      Christmas Gift Idea:  Name a Seat in the Eagles Nest Auditorium is now open to the general public and community.  Single person, $200, Family or couples, $250.  Contact eaglesnestartcenter@gmail.com or call 864-280-1258.            INTERESTED IN STRING LESSONS?: Do you or your children want to learn old time fiddle, banjo, or guitar in the new year?  $10 each group class. Classes will be on Saturday mornings. 9am-10am at the Eagles Nest Art Center.  Interested in piano lessons?   Please contact eaglesnestartcenter@gmail.com or 864-280-1258.   Give a  Gift of Music!        

"Jocassee Santa"  at Devils Fork State Park Day Use Area (Eclectic Sun)  on Sat, Dec 3  10:00-2:00.  Friends of Jocassee is sponsoring this event for photographs with Santa. Hot chocolate, cookies, and making nature tree ornaments will add to the holiday fun.  Bring your own camera or have our photographer snap a holiday picture of your kids or family with Santa with the beautiful Lake Jocassee as the backdrop! Free event. Park admission fees apply.     

Lessons and Carols :  Before the holiday season sweeps you away, spend the first Sunday evening immediately following Thanksgiving (1st Sunday in Advent) focusing on the holy night when Jesus was born. Area church leaders will take turns reading Bible lessons pertaining to the birth of Christ followed by the congregation joining their voices in the singing of traditional carols. Create a family tradition or come alone. Everyone welcome! Refreshments will be served following the service.  Sunday evening, November 27th 6 p.m. – 7 p.m.  Gibson Chapel on the campus of Tamassee DAR School .    

2022 DRIVE THRU LIVING NATIVITY– Fri-DEC 9, Sat-DEC 10, Sun-DEC 11, 6PM-8PM, 4 Eagle Lane, Salem SC.                                                  

Calvary Baptist Church of Salem is looking for a pianist for a paid church pianist position. Contact Pastor O.K. Jones at (864) 483-3832.      

MISTER and MISSY’s-  located 9695 SC-11, Tamassee, SC 29686  Missy is offering a free haircut for the elderly who cannot afford one.  Call or an appointment. She is available most late afternoons and evenings since she also works in Seneca until her local business is built back from the effects of COVID.  Missy also does a COAT MINISTRY for the needy.   If you need a coat or have coats to donate. Call 864-  944-8732                                            

Pray with a heart of thanksgiving!   LRM                              

[hikunbot]

Good Morning! I am so excited that I found a new tueme on this platform. I wanted to request a smut with juhoon with 30, 11, and 7. His vocals are unmatched ESPECIALLY in the new album. Oof 🥵🤌

nothing compares ★ jihoon (m)

↳ a/n: hi !! i always love seeing teumes on here ! and oof yea..... his voice in general........ currently fanning myself wowsers but thank you for the request ! ↳ request: 7. “you’ve thought about this haven’t you?“, 11. “you’re being so quiet, babe. i know you can say my name louder than that”, 30. “if you called just to get off on my voice, i’m hanging up.“ ↳ genre: jihoon x afab!reader, smut, established relationship, lowercase intended ↳ warnings: mutual masutrbation, swearing, dirty talk, kinda dom!jihoon if you squint ↳ word count: 1020 ; scenario

temptation came over you, your hand that wasn't buried in your shorts grabbing your phone from beside you and navigating to your contacts, clicking the contact named, 'jihoonie' followed by too many emojis to fit on the screen. but that wasn't important at that point, you were just pleading your boyfriend to pick up the phone.

your breath came slow and labored, your index finger lightly playing with your clit and you had to hold back, you had to hear his voice. if you had to guess, he was still at practice, probably with just a tank top and workout pants on, maybe sweatpants. he was probably sweating just as he did when he was pounding into you on the nights he had you all to himself.

you were too caught up in your thoughts, your juices now soaking through your panties and you knew you would have to change them later but that didn't concern you one bit because jihoon had finally picked up.

"hello?" he sounded confused, "baby, are you there?"

"ji-" your voice was cut off with a whine, the deep grumble of his chuckle going straight to your core, your hole clenching around nothing. if only he was here.

“if you called just to get off on my voice, i’m hanging up.“ jihoon was amused, he loved hearing you whine and the desperation in just one syllable made his cock begin to harden.

"jihoon, please." you leaned your head back against the pillow, your fingers not doing much compared to what he could do. "i was trying to get off but i need your voice, i need you."

silence for a moment and you heard a soft "fuck" from the other end, jihoon's voice barely making it out from behind his clenched teeth. he looked around, the other members playing around behind him and he signaled he would step out for a moment, his voice getting deeper as he made his way towards a private bathroom.

“you’ve thought about this haven’t you? thought about getting off over the phone and then when i got home i would make a mess of you“ making sure the door was locked, jihoon leaned his head on the cold wall, his forehead infinitely hotter than it was while he was practicing. just the thought of you getting off on the phone with him making his cock throb.

"my fingers aren't enough, jihoon." your complaints fell on deaf ears because you heard rustling and then the faint pants, knowing jihoon had begun touching himself. you tried curling your fingers just as you felt your boyfriend do countless times but you groaned in frustration, not being able to get the same angle or power he could.

"you can't replace how my fingers or my cock feels, sweetheart." jihoon's thumb brushed across his tip, a choked grunt stopping itself. if he got caught he would be dead meat. "are you naked?" his voice came out quieter at the end, his hand moving on its own to try and finish. he halted his movements, though, wanting to come at the same time you did.

for a moment you shook your head, but then remembered he wasn't there with you, so you tried to answer him, your fingers hitting your sweet spot at the same time and a garbled, "jihoon" fell from your lips again.

another pained chuckle, “you’re being so quiet, babe. i know you can say my name louder than that.” his grip on his phone tightened, and he was lucky he didn't shatter it, his knuckles whiter than the sheets you laid on and he struggled to press the speaker closer to his ear. he wanted to hear every little noise you made, every profanity and every way you said his name. "i need you to speak a little louder, babe, let me know how much you want to cum."

"jihoon, please. i'm so close." you were worried about your neighbors, but as soon as you hit your spot again, you nearly shouted, "fuck, jihoon, fuck." your hand moved too fast, you were sure you would get a cramp soon but you also knew you were almost there. from the grunts on the other side, you were sure jihoon was the same way.

"there we go, babe. that's what i like to hear." jihoon's hand sped up, his thumb applying just the right amount of pressure, almost the same as you always did but nothing compared, just like nothing compared to jihoon's fingers or his cock, jihoon knew nothing compared to the way you sucked him off or how you would ride him into the early morning.

"i'm close too, babe. just keep going." jihoon's teeth were clenched so hard he was worried he would chip a tooth, his lower abdomen spasmed for a moment. "come on, babe, come for me."

just as he said that, you hit the wall, your hand letting go of the phone, it sliding onto the pillow next to. your fingers twitched and your legs shook just a bit as you felt white hot travel through your veins, the only thing coming from your mouth being jihoon's name and a string of "fuck"'s.

jihoon's stomach seized and he leaned over the toilet, making sure to spill all of his cum into it, not wanting to clean and especially not wanting any staff to find evidence of what he did. his gasps and murmurs of your name didn't fall on deaf ears, because you could hear the way his voice choked up, the grunts and eventually him breathing heavily as he came down from his high.

you removed your hand from your panties. the sticky cum now soaking your underwear, shorts and the sheets beneath. you took a hold of the phone, clearing your throat and you listened to jihoon on the other side rustle around for a moment before he spoke.

"babe," he took a deep breath, checking his watch, "i have about an hour until i'm leaving practice. i want you naked and ready for me when i get home, i need you so bad."

[canmom]

Toku Tuesday Three: the Seventies!

Luckily my exile from Tumblr did not last long enough to prevent announcing an animation night or toku tuesday.

I don’t have the energy to write a big post today, so let’s keep this nice and short: this week I have two fascinating toku films from the seventies...

First up we have House (1977), which @mogsk describes to me as:

this one is considered a classic both in terms of cheesy horror and Japanese cinema about a group of girls who go to visit a haunted house in rural Japan; it's from the 70s, so the special effects aren't super impressive by today's standards, but it's an incredibly fun film

Not to be confused with some dorky girl’s dusty old twine story, House is the first feature film of Nobuhiko Obayashi and a team of amateur actors. A group of schoolgirls go to the house of the main character’s aunt, only for the house to devour them one by one. There are some wonderful little production anecdotes:

Obayashi recalled that his producer told him that Toho was tired of losing money on comprehensible films and were ready to let Obayashi direct the House script, which they felt was incomprehensible.[7]

The result certainly baffled critics at the time, but before long accrued a cult following strong enough to land it a Criterion release. Sounds like a lot of fun. I love hungry architecture.

Our Godzilla this week is Godzilla vs Hedorah (1971) - relatively late in the ‘Shōwa era’ of Godzilla films (i.e. those released during the reign of Emperor Shōwa, which roughly form one continuity). I’m advised this era of Godzilla films is mostly pretty skippable, a lot of rushed sequels to try to cash in on the success of the first film.

vs Hedorah was one of the first to really establish a name for itself in memory, which it accomplishes by being an absolutely batshit 70s take on a godzilla movie, with extensive dance and animation sequences, and a monster that suitably reflects the concerns of the era by being made of pollution and smoke. I have no idea how all that will come together but it’s definitely got me hyped.

The film has one other distinction: as I’ve heard it, during filming, suit actor Satsuro Kenpachirō suffered a burst appendix while performing in the Hedorah suit. Satsuro needed appendicitis within four hours to save him, but it would take six to remove the suit; they resorted to performing the surgery with half of the suit still on, only for Satsuro to discover to his horror that he was immune to painkillers. Incredibly, he survived the ordeal - and I imagine that was a hell of a story to pass around the veteran toku suit actors...

Since I’m running kind of late and the movies are still coming down, my plan is to start toku night at around 8pm UK time, i.e. about half an hour from this post, at the usual place - twitch.tv/canmom! hope to see you there!

[guylty]

Today’s post comes as a mixed bag of inconsequentialities, both RA-related and OT, just because I have – oh wonder – a renewed urge to write a blog post. It proves a point I made in an earlier post that I am more likely to blog when I need some hobby writing in order to balance out work writing. I have just spent a few hours (!) dealing with the CMS of my new copy writing client, hence I am keen on writing for fun now. Let’s start off with a bit of Armitage.

Spooks 7

Over on Twitter we have been doing a Spooks 7 re-watch over the last few weeks. On Saturday we finished episode 4 with a handful of us live-tweeting while we watched the show simultaneously. It has been a while since I watched Spooks, and it is actually quite fun to revisit Lucas North after a long time. There is, obviously, the fact that RA looks so skinny and young in the role – which is no wonder, as we all know that he starved himself to look like a very gaunt ex-prisoner at the start of the season. Also, the show was made 12 to 13 years ago *omg* – time has passed since then although RA could very easily still play an MI5 agent. In fact, he’d make a very convincing “Sir” Lucas as the head of the counter-terrorism department. Yeah, yeah, I know, that option was taken away from us when they killed off the character – literally and figuratively – in season 9. But just sayin’. In any case, I was watching from my box set of season 7, and it just occurred to me that Lucas is actually front and centre (figuratively speaking) on the cover. At least in terms of size, he is the biggest head 🤭 on the cover. And he gets quite a smoulder on for Disc 4 (see above) 😁. BTW – isn’t that the worst tagline you have ever seen on a spy thriller??? “MI5 not 9 to 5” – jeepers, I suppose that is meant to be funny, but boy does it feel like a flat pun 😂…

Among other things that we delved into with the meagre 140 characters at our disposal, was Lucas ex-wife Elizabeta. It has always struck me as somewhat strange how she was written. So, she is his ex-wife. Lucas is quite clearly still in love with her when he finally returns after 8 years in prison. She, however, having been told he was dead, has divorced (?) and moved on. Fair enough. However, given that she divorced him not knowing why he had actually vanished, it feels a bit strange to me that she has so little feeling for him. Ok, she seems to have a new relationship (and a child), and it would be extremely confusing to find oneself faced with the beloved husband that had been declared dead. Nevertheless I found her a bit too cold. (Or am I in APM-by-proxy?)

Anyway, it was a fun hour spent together on Twitter. Don’t expect any in-depth discussions about characters or scenes, it’s mainly pithy remarks. But if you want to join in, I am sure our organiser mujertropical would be happy to have you. We’re on again next Saturday at 8pm BST.

Couple of OT Updates

No word from the recruiter re. my job application/interviews last week. It’s Tuesday now; the interview was on Thursday. Ok, I get the message 😁. I guess the job is not on. And tbh with you, I am relieved. Don’t get me wrong, it was great to get some validation through this expedited application process. But I wasn’t altogether sure whether I wanted to work full-time for the small amount of money they were offering… This way I won’t have to engage in unpleasant salary negotiations…

For those of you curious about my latest upcycling project: The tray table has been transformed and is now in situ.

Tray table as picked up at the dump

After cleaning and repainting

The final object, distressed, decoupaged and now in situ on the landing:

A Score

I can’t tell you exactly what made me look into online auctions last week, but somehow I looked at an Irish auction site and I spotted a small porcelain figurine whose style looked familiar to me.

I am neither a collector of porcelain, nor do I actually find these particular figurines particularly cute, but I immediately recognised them as “Hummel figurines”. They are quite well-known in Germany and have been collectibles for the past 70 years. The older they are, the more valuable. They are not my cup of tea at all, but my mum has a couple of those figurines and apparently really loves them, so I placed a bid on the auction, hoping that no one in Ireland is aware of what these figurines can be worth. Bingo. I won the figurine for 25 Euro – my maximum bid because the auction did not provide any details about the age of the figurine. Today I picked it up, and it turns out to be from the 1950s (judging by the trademark underneath), which makes it a bit more valuable than my bidding price. I saw the number 150 pop up a few times… Suffice to say I am chuffed. My mum’s birthday present is sorted ✔️

Revisiting the past

I can’t even tell you why and how, but somehow I came across a really old article about RA this week. Many of you have read it before, so it is not new at all. But I thought it was fun to revisit it and have a look at what RA was on a about *ten years ago*. This is an interview with The Mirror on the release of Strike Back.

I didn’t pick this out for the purpose of snide comments or in order to negate what has recently become more obvious, but I thought his answers to the more personal questions here were interesting, as the interview shows RA at 39 – and here we are, RA now (almost) 49. Newspaper articles (especially from tabloid sources) always have to be taken with a grain of salt, but I’d say that RA has come a long way since then. Apart from his private life, I am also struck by his honesty re. the fears that keep him up all night. Does he still believe that? (With some major hits and starring roles under his belt, one would hope not.) In any case, fun to re-read.

  A Bit A’ This ‘N’ That Today's post comes as a mixed bag of inconsequentialities, both RA-related and OT, just because I have - oh wonder - a renewed urge to write a blog post.

[lovehugsandcandy]

Until This Time (Colt x MC)

A/N: @choicesarehard is a dirty, dirty enabler and I’m not even mad. She made the gorgeous image below for me as an incentive to write a second part of the tattoo story and, apparently, I am weak. Thank you SO much for editing and for inspiring and for being so amazing each and every single day; you are a ruthless, DIRTY enabler and I love it!

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length:  4,060 words

Rating: N*FW (swearing and sex, sex and swearing, sexing while swearing? who even knows)

Summary: Colt said he would find her.

Tags:  @deimosensblog @alegria1580  @choicesarehard @thefarrari @client-327 @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @hazah@flowerpowell@poeticscolt @brightpinkpeppercorn @zaira-oh-zaira @powdesiree0816 @umiumichan @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices @leelee10898 @maxwellsquidsuit

Ellie shouldn’t be surprised. Summer faded into fall, fall into winter, sophomore year into junior, and she was still alone, desperate for something, anything, to soothe the ache in her heart.

~~~~~

She couldn’t believe she was so nervous. She had done this before but, then, she hadn’t been by herself, walking into a small room with a stranger, no Mona, no Toby, no Ximena by her side.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

The guy shrugged and started setting up the equipment as she settled into the chair.

It had taken her forever to decide what she wanted. A serpent? It would match but she didn’t know if she wanted it on her own skin. An apple, the symbol of the fall, of the risk of eternal fire? A little too abstract, a lot too Snow White. She finally decided on something, something she thought was appropriate and that she liked; it was a little cliche, but oh well. She had to do a lot of research, find people to consult, lots of internet sleuthing; the last thing she wanted was a mishap and to walk around with gas grill on her hip.

She laid back and shut her eyes as the familiar buzz sounded, biting her lip. It wasn’t that bad, insistent bee stings on her skin, like fingernails dragging deep into her nerves, the vibration rattling her midsection. There were fewer lines than the feather, but thicker, more solid. She wanted to notice it when she looked down, to make it obvious, a stark contrast on her skin.

She didn’t need the reminder of him; he was already in her mind, her heart, phantom lines etched over her body, ever present, every day and, dear God, every night.

But…she wanted it. She wanted the outside to match the inside, her skin to match the marks, the scars, the name on her soul.

~~~~~

And time still passed. Junior year faded into senior year. No one had seen her tattoo; maybe no one ever would. Maybe it was for nothing.

These idle thoughts plagued her mind as she moved forward, towards graduation and what lay beyond for her.

She was torn.

LA had the sun, the East coast had snow. LA had her past, the East Coast had her present. LA had her dad, Riya; the East Coast had great schools with amazing grad programs.

Only one place had her heart.

~~~~~

“Are you sure you want to come back?” Her dad sounded off, strange over the phone.

Weird. “Of course I do.”

Her dad made a noncommittal noise. “It’s just….” A sigh. Ellie waited. “You’re safe on the East Coast, you know?”

“And I’ll be safe in LA. Really.” She knew her dad well enough to know that he was holding something back; throughout the rest of the call, through the updates, the goodbyes, in the back of her mind, Ellie wondered what it was.

It took some digging but, finally, she found it. An article from the The LA Times, posted one week ago. It looked like the Verratti manufacturing plant in Long Beach got hit. Details were sparse, but it looked like someone got away with three prototypes, secret upgrades to their supercars, supercars she knew pretty well. From what she could piece together, the cars were on the exterior quality control track, running some maintenance checks when someone cut open the gate. It would only be a matter of having a good pair of bolt cutters (they never let you down), getting the right uniform to pass as employees (not hard), scheduling the test run for late at night (probably easy to hack if you were able to get into a closed system), and making the getaway to Huntington Beach to blend in with the all the money there (with three good drivers, it was doable). Sounded like an in-and-out job, few witnesses, the cops had no leads. It was like they vanished.

She had to smile. It was a good plan. If someone asked her, she probably would have recommended the same thing.

But no one did.

~~~~~~

When she first moved back, her dad wanted to have dinner with her. Every other night. Lunch on the weekends. She had to pull back, make sure she kept her independence but it was hard, especially when there was nothing that she was pulling towards.

When she wasn’t in class, when she wasn’t with Riya or her dad…well, she tried to make sure she was busy, that she didn’t leave too much time to think, to worry.

And when she did have spare time? Well, she did dumb things.

Dumb things like heading to the cliff, the cliff she knew like the back of her hands. She was there for less than a minute, making it to the edge before the memories hit hard, their first kiss replaying in her head like a sad movie. She had to turn, walk away, breaking into a run to get back to the car.

Or like last Friday, when she showed up, East El Segundo, 8pm sharp, knowing exactly where and when the sideshow would be. She wandered for a while, marginally interested in the cars pulling donuts and watching the races, but it hurt, expecting to see the flash of a white motorcycle or a yellow GT every time she turned around. She didn’t even see a food truck. It was like time moved on, without her, while she was stuck living in a hazy past she couldn’t escape from. She walked back to her car, head low, trying to hide the tears.

Or this.

At least she didn’t get out of the car, sitting in the driver’s seat, window down, keys still in the ignition. The life of the city was vibrant around her, crowds and noise and action everywhere, except the one place she couldn’t take her eyes off of. It was still a shell, empty. It looked like Colt hadn’t even made an effort to start rebuilding; she could see through the front wall to the debris within, still see soot on the ground, pieces of metal and tools and junk cars lying in waste. It was deserted and empty and broken.

She drove away, torn between resolving never to come back here and ordering cleaning supplies to start the rebuilding herself.

~~~~~

Living with Riya meant living with Darius and, honestly, that was fine with Ellie. The three of them were once again inseparable, better than ever. Riya was working downtown while Darius and Ellie were both in grad school. They were busy but they were able to keep some of their old routines and make new ones as well.

But Crispy’s? Chicken tenders at Crispy’s would never die.

“Hey, at least it’s not Tuesday!”

“Yeah, because going to Crispy’s on Friday is so much better!” Riya shoved him, a gentle push to the shoulder that made Darius laugh and pull her close.

Ellie did have to deal with the jealousy, the worry that she had already had and already lost that passion in her life. She was so happy for her friends, she was; sometimes, she just wished things could be…different.

They were a block away from the apartment, Darius and Riya still bickering, hand-in-hand, Ellie half-listening, mind a world away. She wasn’t really paying attention but she should have been, would have seen it sooner, would have seen the dark shape coming out of the alley with more time to react. She moved on instinct, grabbing Riya’s arm to pull her behind, to stand in front of whatever demon from her past was sliding out of the darkness in front of them.

The dark shape was a person, walking under the streetlights, dark boots, jeans, leather jacket, oh shit.

“Hi, Ellie. Riya. Darius.”

Riya was the first to react, to find her voice. “Hi, Colt.”

He smirked, one side of his lips twitching, an almost smile, his eyes never leaving Ellie’s face.

Finally, she spoke. “Hi.” She could see, in the periphery, Riya and Darius looking at each other, moving, but she couldn’t drag her eyes from Colt.

“We’re gonna….” Riya squeezed her arm, brushing past. “We’re gonna go inside.” She and Darius linked arms, both nodding at Colt as they walked by him, but there was only one thing Ellie was focused on.

He looked good. Leather jacket on, hiding his arms from view. He looked softer, somehow, as he watched her, the shadows under his eyes solely from the light above. The last time they were together in an alley, he was hard, haunted, a ghost slipping through her fingers. But now, he looked solid and real.

“How are you?”

“Good….I’m good.” She couldn’t believe, after all this time, that’s his first question? “Colt, what are you doing here? How did you find me?”

He smiled, rocking back on his heels. “I said I’d find you.”

She watched him, underneath the streetlights, hands in his pockets, considering her. She didn’t know whether to smile or cry; what is the correct response when you feel like your heart would burst?

“How have you been?” She stepped closer, drawn like a magnet. He always had that effect on her.

“Better now.”

She shook her head. She didn’t know what to say, whether she was feeling fondness or exhaustion, whether she was relieved or was still feeling the weight of the time stretching between them. “It’s been years, Colt.”

He stepped even closer, smirking, smug as always. “Ellie, I told you I’d find you.”

A low laugh. “Yeah, because I’m not the one moving around all the time.”

“Ellie…” He reached up to trail fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you want me to say, other than I’m sorry.”

She didn’t know what she wanted him to say, what he could say, but she knew she couldn’t let him go tonight.

“Do you…” She gestured down the street, knowing his answer already. “Do you want to come in?

~~~~~

She shut the door to her room, turning to watch Colt surveying everything, hands sliding over her books, her desk, as if he could absorb the memories through touch.

“Graduation?” He picked up a frame. She knew that photo by heart, her dad pulling her close, days before she left the East Coast.

“Yeah.”

He looked at her fondly. “Graduated top of your class?”

“Gave a speech and everything.” She felt unsteady. This was not what she expected when they went to Crispy’s tonight. He was too far away, examining her room, trying to fill in the gaps, like a stranger.

“I missed a lot, didn’t I?”

The intensity with which the tears sprang to her eyes surprised her. He did, over three years, but she missed the same, missed the hiding and the planning and the every night they should have been together. Her voice wavered. “I missed you.”

He was across the room in an instant, three steps, and then she was in his arms, burrowing into his t-shirt, arms solid around her, comforting hands up and down her back. She didn’t know who moved first, if her hand reached for his cheek, if his finger raised her chin, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered when their lips met and she had to sigh, deep in her throat; she had been waiting years for this.

She was lost in his lips, wasn’t paying attention until her back hit the wall, the thin space between her dresser and desk, where they barely fit. She was blocked in by the furniture and his chest and his lips, insistent against her, tongue demanding entrance to her mouth. They kissed, made out like the teenagers they used to be, once upon a time, until he slid his hands to her thighs and lifted. She obliged, wrapping her legs around him, hips grinding together as Colt started a slow roll; she could feel how hard he was, underneath his clothes, pushing into her in a delicious dance, a back and forth she never wanted to end.

Apparently, he wasn’t as satisfied by the angle; he eased her legs down and spun her around, long line against her back, pushing her into the wall as his lips attacked her neck, tongue swirling just so, and his hand made his way down the front of her leggings. She was already keyed up; seeing him after the time and the distance had made her want. He still remembered how to touch her, how to run his thumb in slow circles, when to speed up, where to drag the calluses on his thumb, right where she was most sensitive, to make her squirm and quake and throw her head back onto his shoulder with a cry.

When she came back to herself, when the room came back into focus and her legs stopped shaking and she could see her books had crashed to the floor, he was wrapped around her, murmuring unintelligible words over and over again into her neck.

“Colt?”

The only response was his hand, running up and down her sides, her stomach, mouth still moving against her.

“Colt? Bed.”

Finally, he moved, spinning her so he could kiss her again, deeply, before grabbing her hand and pulling her across the room. She pulled him down on top of her, a safe, heavy weight, holding her there so she couldn’t float away, could only feel him pressing down on her, everywhere. His hands slid up her shirt, burning trails that made her bare her neck to Colt’s lips. She could barely think, only feel, watching as he pulled his shirt over his head, bringing the muscles in his chest, those abs into view, and lower, the feather tattoo sliding over his hip. Damn, she loved that tattoo, the visible ink that marked him as hers.

She reached over, to trail her fingers over it, recommit it to memory so her fingers would always remember the lines, the curves, but then her mind seized. She almost forgot. It had been so long and she was so used to it, used to seeing it when she dressed, when she showered, that she almost forgot her ink would be brand new to him.

She could pinpoint the exact moment he saw it. Her shirt was bunched, halfway up her chest; she thought her bra might be next but, when Colt pulled back, sharp intake of breath in the room, she realized his focus was solely on her hip. She watched him, staring at the tattoo, unmoving, unblinking. She took off her top, her bra, her hands taking over for his. Her pants were still on so he could only see part of it, half of one symbol and the top section of the other, but it was obvious he knew exactly what was written there. She threw the clothes from her hands, waiting; did she break him? He wasn’t even breathing.

His trembling fingers reached out and touched her. Apparently it wasn’t enough, only seeing part of it; he grabbed her waistband and pulled, rough. She could hear the seams tearing as he ripped the pants down to get a better view. She could get new pants. It was worth it, to see the look on his face, the disbelief, the awe. He stared. And stared some more. Then, once he had looked his fill, he traced the symbols, hands reverently mapping the lines on her skin, eyes never wavering from their dark shapes.

Finally, after tracing and retracing three times, achingly slow fingers gliding over her hip, making it hard not to tremble, finally he looked up, catching her eye, emotions warring over his face.

She said the only thing on her mind, the only thing she thought when she was under the needle, the only thing that mattered when she was deciding whether to move back to the West Coast.

“I belong to you.”

It was like a switch flipped. He moved, falling onto her so fast she didn’t even have time to gasp before his lips were on hers, rough, wild. His hands were in her hair, his lips and teeth clashing against hers. She battled back, lips harsh, teeth biting; she had never needed anything, anyone more. She wanted him to consume her.

They barely separated to pull pants from legs, to get nothing between them but bare skin-on-skin. He had always been best at communicating though his body, through how he touched her, their times together a mix of love and reverence and desire. But this touch?

This was desperation. This was Colt falling apart, losing his ever-present control, losing it at being with her again, at their bodies sliding together finally, after so damn long, and, of course, at the sight of the tattoo, the best decision she had ever made, the tattoo that marked her on the outside just as she had been marked on her soul.

“Fuck, El, I need-” His voice faltered, choking off with a moan as he moved back to her neck, rough open-mouth kisses, maybe not even kisses, more bites, pricks of sensation, pleasure-pain invading her senses. His hands were winding through her hair, fist tight, gently pulling her head back so he could mark her throat and further, lower, teeth scraping her breasts, her nipples, everywhere as she writhed underneath him.

He was devouring her, every nerve; he was going to destroy her.

“Yes, yes yes yes.”

He moved between her legs, catching her eye once more, control faltering, barely able to wait for her nod until he moved, pushing inside of her, one smooth stoke.

Her back arched and she cried out to the ceiling as he stretched her all at once. She was losing her mind, his desperation evident in every touch of his hand against her skin, stroking the tattoo as if he was trying to commit it to memory. She wanted him closer, he could never be close enough, not after the years of distance and worry and concern, sleepless nights and imagined fears.

Colt had always burned bright, passion and intensity overlaid with the slightest bit of control; unchecked, she knew he would turn into the blaze that would burn her to a husk. That control was gone now; he was around her, inside her, and she was on fire, would willingly burn if it meant one more moment of this. He moved his hands, one on her clit one on her hip, and his body, smooth motion incessant hard, right where she needed it, right where he remembered.

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only hold on as she reached for him, clinging to his arms, his ink, and holding on for dear life. He didn’t say a word, looked like he could barely produce speech at this point, mouth open and gasping, sucking in breath after breath as he entered her again and again and her heat started to build and her legs, wrapped around him, trapping him, keeping him as close as he should always be, should have been for the last three years, her legs started to shake again.

He pulled out, one hand on his length, one thumb on her clit, stroking himself, rubbing her, all at the same tempo, all at once, so much movement and pressure and sensation Ellie could only grab the sheets and hold on. His hand moved once more, twice, and he came, hard, all over her tattoo, more streaks of him covering her skin. Her hand flew to her mouth and she bit into the palm of her hand, trying to muffle her scream as the world fell apart.

~~~~~

The second time was in the shower. She needed to get clean and Colt wanted to get dirty. He prevailed. She knew that, in the future, every time she stepped into the bathroom, all she would think about would be her hands, flailing against the wall, nails scrambling for purchase on the tiles as Colt took her apart, inch-by-inch, desperate to show her how much he loved the tattoo.

The third time, the third time she resolved to remember every moment. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, didn’t know when Colt would need to fade into the night again, but she was determined to catalogue every expression that flit across his face, to remember every slide of his fingers across her body, to mentally record every moan and heated whisper, to hold every single sensation tight, close to her heart, for comfort during long nights. She didn’t cry, not this time.

~~~~~

She was alone when she woke up. The sun was high in the sky, bathing the room in light but, when she turned, there was no one behind her. The bed was cold, no one else in the room. As she expected, she was sore, body the absolute best kind of sore when she stretched. Her heart was a different kind of sore, not for the first time.

She had told herself she wouldn’t sob, please not this time, but indulged one tear, tracking down her cheek. This is how they operated. They would always find each other again but, until that time came, she would make her way through the world, carrying memories and ink and love, alone.

She slowly pulled on some sweats, hearing Riya talking in the living room. At least she and Darius were still here, some kind of distraction. As she walked down the hall, she could hear the familiar laughter and noise. They had been obsessed with Horizon Chase, playing until 3am some nights.

She was still groggy. “What time is it?”

She padded to the couch and froze. The screen was split and her car, always the bottom left, always the pink speedster, always, her car was winning. Darius was coming up fast but he wasn’t going to make it, her pink car flying over the finish line. Riya was last, as normal; Ellie could usually beat her but had a harder time beating Darius. Her car never won, especially when she wasn’t playing.

Time stopped as Ellie watched Colt, sitting on the couch in her living room, sitting next to her childhood best friend like he belonged there. He was in his clothes from yesterday but the jacket was off, tattooed sleeves out of place squished next to Riya’s pajama top, worlds colliding.

“You’re like a good luck charm!” He raised his hands in the air, reaching behind him, trying to grab her waist.

“Cuz Darius cheats.” Riya pouted, throwing the controller to the ground.

Ellie just stared.

“I don’t cheat! You just don’t know how to use the boosts, babe, we’ve talked about this!”

“No Darius, you’ve talked about this. I think it’s like cheating.”

Her brain wasn’t working, words weren’t forming.

“You wanna play, Ellie?”

“I think…..I think I need coffee.” Her brain would work better with coffee. “Colt, can you come with me for a second?”

He stood, dropping the controller on the couch and following her into the kitchen. She turned to face him and opened her mouth. Closed it. Tried again. Nothing came.

He leaned against the counter like he owned the place, looking expectantly at her, eyebrow raised. She could only gape at him, standing there in her kitchen as if he had a standing brunch date.

Finally, she spoke. “Are you staying?”

“What?”

She tried again. “Are you staying? Here?”

“Well, I’m going back to my apartment at some point.” He tilted his head, shrugging, palms out. “I don’t have any more clothes.”

She cuffed him on the side of the head. She missed this. “I mean, are you sticking around? No more moving around this time?”

He stepped closer. “They stopped investigating five months ago. I don’t need to hide underground anymore. And you’re back in LA.”

She was still uncertain, didn’t want to get her hopes up. “But-”

“Ellie…” He reached out, curving a hand around her hip, fingers stroking, slowly, tracing the familiar lines, spelling out Golden Child, Kaneko, with the pads of his thumb. “You have my name on your hip.”

She nodded, tears starting to prick her eyes, voice soft. “Yeah…I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I.”

She couldn’t stop herself from from throwing her arms around his shoulders and kissing him thoroughly. This time, he didn’t need to promise a next time. This time, he never left.

[engineer-ai]

A Week in Sachin Dev Duggal Life: CEO of Engineer.ai

Sachin Dev Duggal is a serial entrepreneur, founding Engineer.ai in 2012 as a solution to the long and expensive process of app and software development. Prior to this, he founded technology companies Shoto and Nivio.

Engineer.ai is a technology company that is re-shaping how bespoke software is built, driven by the belief that everyone should have the opportunity to see their business idea come to fruition, without huge investments of funding, time and technical knowledge.

Monday

I wake up most mornings at 6:30am. This morning, I wake up even earlier due to the cries of my three-month-old daughter, Samanäya. As I pick her up from her crib and rock her back to sleep, I can hear my phone buzz a million times a second from across the house. With Sam in one hand, I begin to skim through the many emails I’ve received in the last six hours. I don’t even bother checking Slack at this point because messages, from engineering to marketing, run into three digits there in a matter of hours.

I run a global organisation, so work never stops. The Indian office is in full swing by now. Meetings are lined up from 9:30am to 6:30pm and a lunch break seems like a far-fetched dream at this point. I put Sam back to bed and get on my laptop. The rest of the morning is spent catching up on emails, going to the gym, having breakfast with family, doing the school run with my three-year-old son, Aramnäya, and more meetings, emails and messages.

The day is spent revisiting the previous week and planning the one ahead. We also have the formidable annual review coming up since the end of the year is near. But despite all the chaos, at the end of the day, I feel grateful for everything – the opportunities that I’ve been given to create something meaningful, my entire team at Engineer.ai who make it happen, and my family, of course.

Tuesday

I got a fortunate four hours of sleep last night. Today, over breakfast, I’m reading “Click, Clack, Moo. Cows That Type” to my son. He loves the cows that type away, much to Farmer Brown’s dismay. I don’t like noisy typers myself, so this story book is enjoyed by both my son and myself equally. The rest of the day flies past with meetings and PR interviews.

I wrap up at 6:30pm sharp and head to my kickboxing class. This is my sacred hour and some of the best ideas have come to me during this time.

After my class, I head home. 7:30pm to 10:00pm is strictly family time. Post dinner, there’s story time again and off to bed my kids go. Many hugs and kisses and goodnights later, I’m back at it. My day hasn’t ended. I’ve got another 4 hours of calls lined up with the leadership of my organisation.

Wednesday

We are doing a front page ad campaign with the Times of India, the second-largest selling English-language daily newspaper in the world, for two of our products – Builder Studio and Builder Cloud. There’s a lot of planning that goes into nailing the segmentation and targeting, messaging, call to action, lead capture and so forth. So, I’m flying to India today. I get off the 9-hour flight and head straight to work. I won’t be getting much sleep for the next 48 hours.

At about 8pm, I leave from office to catch dinner with my mum. This is the best part of my trip! As soon as dinner is done, I head back to work for late night meetings with the product team. We wrap up by 1:30am and everyone seems satisfied with how much we got done.

Thursday

I’m up bright and early this morning despite sleeping late last night, thanks to jetlag. I go for a jog and then head to work. I walk in at 8:00am and there isn’t a soul to be seen, but that’s on me. I’ve always been the first one in, last one out and the habit just doesn’t leave me. I’ve never quite been able to segregate “work” time from “non-work” time. My mind just doesn’t work that way. I spend my day (including lunch hour) in operations, marketing, sales, PR and finance catch-ups, and believe me, in a fast-scaling global organisation like Engineer.ai there is enough to discuss.

We also finalised the nitty-gritty of our upcoming campaign and with that, my trip to India officially concluded, albeit with another late night.

Friday

I took a late flight last night back to London, walking onto the plane on a conference call, so I can attend my son’s first play. I manage to catch some sleep on the flight. In school, Aramnäya walked onto stage first (his eyes searching for his mother and I). My heart melted and suddenly all the craziness this past week made sense. The headteacher came to me to thank me for the lights, and I, at the back of my mind, thought of my wonderful assistant, Alessia, who just made magic happen.

I wrap up work early today, so we can go out for a little celebratory family dinner. No more emails, meetings, calls, or messages for the day. I put my phone away. Tonight is about love, gratitude, and family.

[kaywriteswords]

Snacks are good, Self-care is better

You might have noticed the title change and that my pic isn’t just my fun socks and a scale. I couldn’t decide on a  new official blog title so you can expect randomness until I land on one that I love. I’m changing it because weight is not the only thing that matters. When I first started all this, dropping pounds was the primary focus with the hope that other lifestyle changes would follow as I worked toward that goal.  Tracking pounds is measurable, it made sense, but after 5 weeks, it’s kind of stale and not much fun. Some goals aren’t quantifiable, they’re just a feeling. I had way more fun this week practicing self-care by focusing on my skin care routine and attempting meditation. And guess what, while I was doing all that I had less time for snacking, YEAH! This was always supposed to be about total health and wellness, a change of lifestyle. It will take time and I’m willing to give it time, but sharing the journey with all of you keeps me focused on my evolution and accountable to working toward it.

<Weekly Wednesday Weigh-in: 202.4>                                                         <Total Weight Change: +1.8>                                                               <Fluctuation Since Last Week: -2.4>

Amazingly, my weight has trended back down in the last week. Portion control wasn’t great. I cleared half a tray of lasagna one night. Honestly, all I did was cut snacking down by about half for this result. To be clear, I still ate hot cheetos and pounded down half a pack of oreos, a few other things here and there, but significantly less than what I’ve been having in recent weeks. I gave myself a hearty pat on the back for this progress because seriously, I’m subconsciously heading to the fridge and pantry when I sit down to watch TV. It’s almost involuntary. I have to retrain my brain, dissociate watching TV and eating. Now that I’m aware boredom is guiding me, I ask myself two questions: 1. Why are you looking for food? 2. When is the last time you ate?

My workouts matched my intensity levels from the previous week so another pat on the back for consistency. I did get some exercise in 6 out of 7 days, WOOHOO! My pursuit of daily exercise continues again this week with the long-term goal being that I can get an intense, sweat filled session in 5 days/week with two days for yoga spaced accordingly. If I sweat 3 days per week at this point, that would be a win. The yoga has been hard to incorporate. For some reason, leading yourself in a flow is much harder to accomplish than following an instructor. But, there is plenty of free stuff online right now so it’s up to me to take advantage of this opportunity.  

I gave my body some love this past week. Sugar scrub, lip mask, clay mask for my face and I even pumiced my feet… not all in the same day. Even though we know we should take care of our bodies we don’t always. Whether it’s because we feel like we don’t have the time, lack the motivation or just completely forget because it’s not an ingrained habit, our skin suffers. Being conscious of it helps me, because even on the days when I’m not feeling like doing anything, I at least make sure to cleanse my face, tone and moisturize to keep my natural glow on point. Love your body, love yourself.

Hahaha, the meditation. I’m mainly doing it to help reduce anxiety. I get insomnia like a m*tha f*cka so this is one thing, among many different things, that I’m trying to deal with that nonsense. I made an effort to do it 3 out of 7 days, I may or may not have just blown it off completely a couple days, but that is neither here nor there. After two days of wondering if I was doing it right, I headed over to reliable old Google… The type of mediation I seem to practice (yes, there is a variety) is breath awareness/mindful breathing. Essentially, I focus on my inhales and exhales while ignoring all other thoughts that enter my mind. The batting away of random thoughts is almost constant, but I did manage to just breathe for a few breaths. My mind wanders to things like writing this blog, food, work, cheese, the fact that the dog needs a bath, food, wondering how much time is left till the 5 minute alarm goes off. I did make it to 7 minutes one day, but that was only because I set the alarm for the next day and while I was supposed to not be thinking thoughts, I thought, it’s definitely been more than 5 minutes and checked. It is what it is. Dismissing the thoughts is a work in progress and my fight continues this week!

Despite resting on Friday, I still felt like I was running myself ragged with the to-do list by Saturday. We can always find things to do, ways to keep us busy. Maybe it’s being stir-crazy that is making me feel like I should be getting stuff done, but I already waged war on my living space last year (see the Art of Purging posted Feb. 6, 2020). Too bad that didn’t stop me from reorganizing my movies by genre the last 2 days. I think the stir-craziness is manifesting as overloading myself with personal goals to-do list items. I’m putting a stop to it today because I need to find balance. A little routine wouldn’t hurt so I’m going to plan to take my dog on a few short walks throughout the day to build some structure into my aimless days and help with balancing my time. I didn’t realize yesterday was Tuesday until almost 8pm. I’m sure some of you are in the same boat being stuck inside.

My goals for the next week… Keep aiming for those daily 5 minutes of meditation, continue to love on my skin, and space high intensity workouts accordingly with restorative yoga to rest and reset. I’m going to take a pause on specific goals where food and diet are concerned and just be mindful of my portion sizes and snacking habits. Oh, and I think I’m going to allow myself to just give in to those types of days where I can just lay on the couch, take naps, snuggle my dog and do nothing productive. Ultimately, this journey is about total health and wellness, a change of lifestyle, and sometimes the best way to care for ourselves is to do absolutely nothing at all.

[takemedancingmaine]

Whiskey Business 

It was Tuesday when Niall texted me.

Not the group chat.

Me.

I had been tidying my desk, about to leave work to get lunch when my phone beeped. I ignored it as I pulled on my jacket.

I grabbed my wallet and phone off the desk, stuffing them into my pockets, and called over to Louis that I was going to grab us lunch.

“Where from?” he asked, his head whipping around to peak an eyebrow at me as he cracked eggs into a massive mixing bowl.

“Velvet Taco,” I smirked when his whole face lit up.

“Oh my god, I’ve been so good about not going there recently and I’m craving it so badly. You’re my hero,” he gushed while wiping his hands on a towel draped over his shoulder. He looked content with flour on his apron and his hair pushed back off his face a bit.

I smiled at him and shrugged. “I’m a woman of the people, for the people, Louis. I aim to please.”

“You succeed,” he told me. “I’ll text you my order?”

I nodded and zipped up my windbreaker, “Sounds good.” I turned and just before I’d walked out the door to the front of the shop to leave, I turned back around for a moment.

I had wanted to just watch him for a moment. I like watching him in his element. I liked watching all of my friends in their element. I had been to school functions and witnessed Ana, Harry, Liam, and Cleo in action. I’d even seen Cleo teach a few times when we were in college and she was an aide. I liked when they were completely happy and I knew, watching them, that they had chosen their perfect careers.

It was a rarity, I knew, to be so young and so happy with our places in the world, well-established places. Harry had a little less job security as a music teacher, but as of right now they were all secure.

Louis was another story though. Louis working was almost like watching someone have an out-of-body experience. I did worry about him not sleeping enough and overworking himself, but I likened watching Louis bake to watching a composer creating a movie score: it seems all haphazard and stressful until you see the finished project and put everything together and voila! The finished product would end up making sense of the mess that came before it.

“What?” he looked up at me eventually.

“Nothing,” I shook my head at him. “Just… don’t forget to text me.”

Louis nodded and went back to work.

It was much warmer and sunnier this week than last week, but the wind off the Lake was brutal--hence the windbreaker I donned--and thankfully, supposed to die down tomorrow. I was hoping to get out this weekend, the weather looked perfect to do so, too. If I could get myself out to the beach early I could spend the whole day just relaxing, not worrying about cleaning or meal prepping or whatever else.

The city was bustling around me. It was just as loud and crowded as usual and I was thoroughly unsurprised by the line at Velvet Taco. I’d be here for a minute. I pulled out my phone to start stalking my sister on social media and remembered that I’d ignored two messages. Opening the app I saw that one was Louis telling me his order and that the other was Niall.

I sent Louis a thumbs up and then opened the message from Niall, a brand new thread with only the one message to it.

Niall: Hi

I found myself smiling down at my phone as I shuffled forward in line a bit and started typing out my response.

Ruby: Hi

Niall responded almost immediately, which made me think that he was also on his lunch break. Or he was waiting for me to text him back. Probably both.

Niall: would you want to get a drink with me on thursday?

I felt my heart stop and then restart. I was absolutely floored and without thinking I felt my fingers type out my response.

It was like everything in me was still moving, but I was trapped in molasses. I couldn't seem to think, even my thoughts were trapped. I could feel the prickle of excitement shoot down my spine, but I couldn't process is. I could feel my fingers typing a response, but my brain didn't know what they were typing. It couldn't keep up.

A lot of things flooded my mind quite quickly. It was like when you see an overflowing mailbox, and that mailbox was my brain. All the letters had arrived and were ready to be read, but I was so overwhelmed by the amount that I couldn't actually sort through them and find one to open first. So instead I just ignored them a little longer.

I shuffled forward in line again as my fingers kept going on their own accord, not bothering to confront me.

Ruby: Would Friday be okay? I’ve got something on Thursday.

Niall: friday works great

Ruby: Name the time and place and I’ll be there.

Niall: the irish oak up in wrigley. 8pm?

I laughed to myself, probably looking a little wacky to the other customers around me in the restaurant, but the fact that he’d chosen an Irish pub only a few blocks from me--one that I’d been to plenty of times--was funny to me. I wonder if he’d been there or if he’s just chosen it for it’s name and location. I actually really liked the pub. Either way, it seemed an apt place to get a drink with an Irishman.

Ruby: See you then, Niall.

Niall: brilliant

I clicked out of the message app and then pulled up my sister’s social account again and scrolled through her posts and photos. She apparently had successfully snuck out with her friends the other night and now that she was back at school there were even more posts. I had to admire how bold Maher was to sneak out of our parent’s house. She had guts, for sure.

She had done it before when she was in high school, but our parents had since rearranged our rooms. Maher was moved into my room and her room became an office. My temporary living space at home for when I did go home to visit was a futon in the new office.

All of this meant that Maher’s new room was right next to our parent’s room, instead of across the house. It did have access to the massive tree in our backyard she used as a climbing vessel to get in and out, but she had to have known that any small sound would have woken up my father and foiled her plans.

I liked a few of her posts and then clicked back to Louis’ message thread where he’d send his order to me. I ordered our food and then moved off to the side to wait.

It was while I was waiting that something in my mind clicked and the letters in my mailbox brain were beginning to open, presenting themselves. And all of these thoughts and questions began bouncing around in my mind actively.

The first thought to reach me coherently was that I'd gone out for drinks with Liam, Louis, and Harry one-on-one before. Going out for a drink with my male friends was not all that uncommon. It wasn't something that even really phased me because I was so used to it by now.

Going out for drinks with my guy friends was like the physical contact issue I'd had when I'd first became friends with the lot of them. It seemed weird at first, against my normal, and then it became second nature. When I looked back I was able to realize it was only weird at first because I made it weird in my head.

Niall and I were friends. And he and I seemed to get on really well. He also seemed to get on really well with everyone else. He laughed freely with Cleo, gossiped with Ana, talked music with Harry--and me--, talked business with Liam--he thought the real estate license was so cool--, and he and Louis had the easiest friendship I'd ever seen.

Niall and Louis were a lot like me and Cleo. Because we’d lived together we knew each other intimately in ways that our other friends didn't know us. Sure, we'd tell them all everything just the same, but when you're working to pay the bills with someone, arguing against parking tickets for someone, and sharing a sleeve of Oreos with someone as you bask in the warm glow of a room full of candles, you really progress a friendship to some other, almost ethereal level.

Watching Niall and Louis the few times I'd seen them together, I could sense their deep level of connection. They could read each other's faces and knew when to makes a sarcastic comment and when to bite one back. I could see Louis smiling proudly, and selfishly that Niall had assimilated into the group and I could see that Niall noticed Louis’ shift in mood when it happened so seamlessly. They knew each other well and communicated without words.

I could see Niall and I becoming close, a lot like me and Louis. He was easygoing, fun to talk to, and he shared similar interests. I could be friends with Niall. I could platonically get drinks with Niall.

So why did I get a thrill when he asked me to drinks that I'd never gotten for any of my other male friends?

That question brought me to the second biggest thought on my mind, the more worrying thought.

Well, that second thought was also a question.

What if this wasn't platonic? What if Niall had intended his invitation to mean something more than platonic?

Did I want that?

What if I did and he didn't? Or he did and I find out I don't?

What if we try something and it blows up? What then? Who gets the friend group? Would we have to split them? I get Cleo and Liam and one of the Styles pair while he gets Louis and the other of the pair.

I work with Louis. Louis is my best friend. I can't lose him. But Niall would definitely get him in a split. He had first dibs. He knew Louis in college, lived with him for four years. I was close with Cleo because we’d lived together and gotten to know each other on a deep level, but Louis… Louis was someone I didn't think I could live without.

He was someone I'd gotten so used to seeing on a daily basis, someone I worried about when I saw the circles under his eyes growing darker, and someone I shared everything with. Louis was the person I laughed with, cried with… I had Cleo, yes, but Louis had worked his way into my heart as well. One didn't lessen the other.

But what if Niall and I do end up going together and do end up working out? Then all will be well. Would that risk be worth it? What if it was? What if it wasn't but we tried and failed and everything fell apart anyway?

I just didn't know. I could feel myself getting lost in the bombardment of thoughts that were flooding into my brain like a dam had broken. It was suffocating.

Until my name was called and my lunch order was placed on the counter for me to grab.

Taking the food, I walked out the door desperately hoping I could make it through lunch without Louis reading me like a book and that I could make it through Friday just having drinks, platonically, with a friend.

I was losing it.

I wasn't sure what ‘it’ was, but I was definitely becoming devoid of it. I could feel it leaving me at a remarkably swift rate.

I walked in looking for his hair.

The pub was already busy. It was a warm Friday evening in a nice area of the city, of course the pub was already busy.

I didn’t see him in the front near the open window, and the further I pushed into the building I was starting to think maybe I’d gotten here first. My nerves were starting to prickle at the back of my neck with that thought.

I didn’t do well with getting places first. Would I have to wait to order? Would I ever be able to find us places to sit? What if I chose the wrong place? Was there even such a thing as a wrong place? I mean, there wasn’t much to choose from, anyway. I was starting to spiral with these thoughts, all in the span of a second, but the thoughts didn’t have long to settle, because someone called my name over the din of the crowd.

“Ruby, hi!” His smile was wide and his eyes crinkled at the corner, but they were shaded under a baseball cap. I never would have found him with that on. I had been trying to find his floofy hair.

I internally gulped--picture an old animation movie style gulp--at the sight of the baseball cap. I was a sucker for a guy wearing one. Niall looked good, too. In blue jeans and a creamy long sleeve shirt, he looked both dressed appropriately and comfortably. We almost matched, too. I was wearing a cream coloured tee, but my jeans were black.

He was sitting, leaning sideways against the bar, the only empty seat around happened to be the one beside him.

I leaned in and gave him a one-armed hug. His smell, that clean laundry and cologne mix, was intoxicating, but I pulled back and sat down next to him.

“Hey,” I smiled back at him.

“What’ll you have?” Before Niall got a chance to say anything one of the bartenders came up to me.

“Whiskey neat.”

“Start a tab?”

I nodded and pulled my card out of my back pocket. “Sure,” I handed it over.

The bartender walked away and Niall looked at me over his Guinness that he was sipping.

“I was gonna pay for you,” he said with a bit of a pout. The hat was making it hard to see his eyes clearly. I could see his facial expressions, but his eyes themselves were a blind spot. It was unnerving.

I had decided, over the past three days, that this outing was just one friend spending time with another friend. I’d convinced myself of this fact.

When I’d changed after work to come out tonight, I’d consciously chosen casual clothing. I’d been very careful with my makeup to make it look good, but not like I was trying too hard. My hair was just down normally, not curled or straightened or anything. I hadn’t told anyone else about the two of us going out for drinks, but I was convincing myself it wasn’t because of their incessant teasing and insistence that Niall and I liked each other and that it was actually because it was no big deal.

Because it wasn’t. It didn’t matter that he looked great and was wearing a baseball cap and that he smelled wonderful and had asked me alone out to drinks tonight. It wasn’t a big deal. There was nothing to read into.

“It’s okay,” I told Niall. “I don’t mind.”

I watched as his lips puckered for a moment, but he nodded and let it drop.

“How’d you know about this place?” I asked him.

The bartender dropped my drink on the counter and quickly I took a sip, the feeling of the alcohol slipping past my lips always the same. The warmth of the whiskey, the smooth texture as it travelled down into my belly, even the bitter taste were all welcome as I closed my eyes and breathed deeply for a second before turning back to Niall.

“This is where I used to bartend,” he said.

“Wait, really?” I asked. I was doing math in my head. I’d been here just over three years. He’s been gone for somewhere between three and four.

“When did you leave?” I asked, genuinely curious as to how much we’d missed each other the first time around.

“I left in four years ago next March,” he said.

“I’ve been here four years next July,” I said. “We only missed each other by a few months.”

“I think it’s probably for the better that we missed each other back then,” he said, taking a sip of his beer.

I crinkled my nose and tilted my head at him in confusion. I lifted my whiskey glass and swirled the liquid in it around and around while I waited for him to answer.

He swallowed his sip and said, “I was kind of an eejit when I was younger. Going home really helped mature me.”

“I'm sure you weren't that bad.”

“Oh, I was pretty bad,” he laughed.

That laugh of his. It made something like excitement flash down my spine. I tried to ignore whatever it was by taking another sip of my drink.

“What makes you say that?”

“I had just graduated uni, was living with Louis, and was a bartender by night,” he gave me a look. “If that doesn't tell you enough, then I'll add in that I had bleached hair and wore a series of leather bracelets on my wrists.”

I was so unprepared for that last fact, not expecting it as the others had all been things I’d already known, that I actually snorted when he said it, and I had to quickly bring my hand up to cover my mouth and hide my smirk.

He nudged me with his knee, just like he’d done a week ago on the train, but he was smirking. Until I started laughing, and then he joined in. My head fell forward, my hair falling around my face as my laughter burst out. I knew without looking that Niall’s head had fallen backward and that his laughter was escaping out into the room around us. It got lost in the sounds of the crowd, but I heard it. I felt it.

Finally, I calmed myself down enough to bring my head up and push my hair back from my face. Niall’s cheeks were flushed pink but he was calmed down as well, and looking at me with something I couldn’t place in his eyes. I ran a hand through my already messed up hair and shook my head at him.

“You were doing pretty well up until the bracelets,” I tried so hard to keep my face neutral when I said that.

“That’s where you draw the line?” he asked. “Not the hair or the fact that I willingly lived with Louis Tomlinson?”

I laughed and shook my head.

“I liked the hair.”

“You liked the hair?”

“I mean, I really like it now, but I don’t think the blonde looked bad. Is this your natural colour or did you dye it close to get the blonde out?”

“This is natural,” he told me before he lifted the hat, ran a hand through his hair, and then placed the hat back down. “I just let it grow out eventually. It looked like I had frosted tips for a minute there,” his cheeks turned pink again.

“Justin Timberlake flashbacks?”

“Hey, that was a good look for both of us,” he nudged my leg again with his.

“I don't care how much of a fan you were, the noodle hair was not a good look for him,” I took a sip, the glass quickly emptying as my body grew warmer from the alcohol.

Niall laughed. “No, it really wasn't. I definitely worked it better than he did.”

“I can believe that.”

Niall blushed again under his cap, but it was starting to bug me that I couldn't see his eyes clearly. I could see them watching me, but I couldn't read them, see the emotions in them. He looked quite good though while he was wearing it, so I couldn't complain that much.

I realized then that my thoughts were entering dangerous territory. Friends could admit other friends were attractive. Objectively I thought that all of my guy friends were beautiful, even if it made me want to throw up in my mouth a bit. Me thinking that Niall was attractive and not wanting to throw up at the thought was dangerous.

Looking at him though, I couldn't deny it, or how comfortable I felt around him while thinking it. I felt my whole body gravitating toward him, and without my consent, my body started leaning toward him. I couldn't move back without him noticing either, so I stayed where I was, which was close to him.

“What's the with the hat, by the way?” I asked now, trying to distract myself.

The bartender took notice of the fact that both of our drinks had gotten low and when he came up to us we both agreed to a second round.

“My hair again,” he shrugged. “I just started on a new project at work and when it was handed to me I sort of realized that this is my first real job and this is my first project. I was raking me hands through my hair all day with stress… I figured it best to cover it up.”

“I told you last time you wore a hat that I liked the floofy hair,” I took notice of the fact that both of our drinks had been refilled and placed in front of us and picked mine up.

I watched as Niall picked up his own drink, looking at me with a small smirk on his face. I thought again about how unfortunate it was that I couldn't see his eyes, try and figure out what he was thinking. I hadn't realized in the little time we had spent together how much I liked his eyes.

I mean, I knew I liked the colour of them, that was one of my first thoughts about him, but I hadn't realized just how dependent I was upon reading him through his eyes.

“Does it bother you?” He asked, gesturing toward the hat, the offending object, on his head.

I shrugged. “It looks good,” I told him truthfully. “I miss your eyes, but the hat looks good on you.”

I don't think he'd been expecting me to say that, because his cheeks flushed pink again--I enjoyed that colour--and he looked away quickly and grabbed his beer and took a large drink.

“Tell me about your work project,” I said now, genuinely curious and excited for him.

It was when he insisted on walking me home that I decided I was a little tipsy. I'd only had three drinks and as it was nearing midnight, they had been spread out over quite a few hours, but that was more than I usually allowed myself to drink and my body was feeling it.

I think acknowledging that fact was also acknowledging that I was getting older. Three drinks in college was nothing. Three drinks at twenty-seven was another story.

During the walk home, Niall's hand kept brushing into mine.

It had been like that the whole evening as we had talked. He'd bump his arm against mine or his knee against mine, and I was starting to think that he meant to.

At first, while still in the pub, I had put it off as his being European. We’d already talked about how my culture and his were more open to touch and contact, but this had felt like something else. I ignored my own thoughts. I didn't allow myself to think about it.

Instead, I focused wholly on the conversation at hand with him. We talked about music again, went through each decade and ended with current music. We’d talked about work. Niall had asked me how I'd gotten into accounting and I was curious as to his backstory with how he had gotten into writing and copy editing.

It turned out that as a young boy in Ireland he'd not had much, living in a small home with his brother and dad and not much else to claim as theirs. What he did have though, was books. He didn't much pay attention to anything in school except for English lessons.

He'd sneak whatever book he was reading at the time into his lap during history and math--he calls it maths--lessons and get reprimanded for reading when he was supposed to be learning his times tables and about the different effects of Catholicism as it pertained to his country's history.

So he read, and he read. He was inspired by the words of his countrymen, like Joyce and Yeats and Wilde, and he knew he wanted to at least attempt to create something like they created. I thought it was a romantic idea in terms of passion and being a dreamer.

We talked about our siblings. I told him all about Maher and her adventures. He laughed when I told him about how she ducked out of the house and how at college she'd always send me a message in the morning to let me know she'd successfully made it home.

He told me about his older brother Greg, only a year older but already married with a kid back home in Ireland. About how Greg was a goody-two-shoes, but only just. He managed to win over all his teachers and did everything right. He’d gone to university--college--and found a girl and had a kid and had a sensible job close to home.

Niall was the black sheep, as it were. He'd left home and didn't have a solid job for many years after graduation, didn't have his life all figured out. Often Niall would find himself feeling inadequate about it, given that he'd looked up to his brother his whole life.

He'd have to remind himself that he was happy--that he had moved to a city he loved, found people he was happy to spend time with, and finally had a job he was excited for. It had taken longer than he'd expected or hoped and hadn't been as straightforward as he'd initially thought it would be, but he was here and it had all worked out.

We'd also had lighter conversations, as well. We talked about our roommates in college and some of the craziest things we’d ever done.

Niall’s was that when he was sixteen he’d saved up and flown to England to see a football--soccer--match without telling anyone. He had told his dad he was going to a friend’s for the night, so his dad was none the wiser. His brother though had found the plane ticket in Niall's backpack when he was looking for a notepad a week or so later. Greg never told on him, but he did force Niall to do his chores for as long as he could.

My story was about the time I'd driven with Cleo from Ann Arbour to Columbus in the middle of a massive snowstorm to see a concert. And then I drove us back. What would normally have been a three-hour trip was a five-hour trip. We spent eleven and a half hours in the car that day total. But we also saw a farewell tour of a beloved band.

Each of our stories was filled with laughter and an unbelievable risk that neither of us had cared about at the time. The amount of audacity we’d had when we were younger was something else.

Niall pointed out that even though I wasn't like Maher, I was, in my own way, just as bold and brave as she was. I was unafraid to move away from home and try new things and choose the career I wanted. I was kind of a risk taker in college--going to concerts and going hiking alone on top of when I chopped my hair sophomore year--something I thought my mom was going to murder me for. It grew back eventually though.

I guess I was a little more like my sister than I'd thought, in the best possible ways. I'd never thought about it like that, but we both had gusto. Just showed it in our own way.

It was Niall’s turn.

“Pasta. Favourite frozen yoghurt flavour?”

“Cookies n’ cream. Favourite sport to play?”

“Football. Favourite book?”

“Behind the Beautiful Forevers. Same question,”

“A collection of short stories by Hemingway.”

“Hemingway?” I asked before he could ask me a question back.

“Is that your question?” His head tilted my way.

“Is that yours?” I asked back. He laughed, and of course I joined in because his laugh is contagious and I couldn’t help it.

“I like Hemingway,” he shrugged and bumped into me. “What's your book about?”

“It's a nonfiction book about life in a Mumbai Undercity,” I said. “I've been to India a few times to visit, but reading the book... it took something I'd only seen from the outside and really put it into perspective for me.”

“I'll have to read it sometime,” he said.

“I'll let you borrow my copy whenever you feel like it,” I told him. He gave me a small smile, a show of his appreciation, as we turned onto my street.

“Thanks.”

“This is me,” I pointed toward my house as we got closer to the gate.

Niall, ever the gentleman, opened the gate for me and followed me up the stairs, making sure I got in okay.

I never had dark flashbacks while standing on my front step, never felt like someone was over my shoulder. It was odd. It was when I was inside about to fall asleep that I could never settle, felt unsafe. I couldn’t seem to willingly allow myself to be vulnerable, to be asleep when someone could easily get in when I was unprepared.

Standing on my front porch with Niall, I felt more than just safe from danger, I felt comfort and I felt at ease in my bones I'd not felt before, not even before my incident.

“You didn't have to walk me home,” I said now. “But I really appreciate it.”

“Of course I did,” Niall’s voice was soft. “I am a gentleman.”

I smiled and nodded. “So it would seem.”

“I really liked spending time with you tonight, Ruby,” he said now. “You've probably worked out that I’ve been quite lonely since I went back to Ireland. Coming back here to Louis and your friends, to you… it's all been something I appreciate so much. Your company has been so wonderful.”

“You do fit in well with us,” I acknowledged.

“You're all so incredible,” he nodded. “I seem to really connect with you, too. And I don't want to do anything stupid and mess that up, but I think I like you more than the others.”

His cap was casting shadows across his face so that I couldn't see clearly, and to make it even worse he dropped his head down for a moment.

I was oddly calm. That easiness, that calm feeling Niall’s presence brought me was not absent even at this moment when I could sense that he was a little tense. I knew what he was saying, and I knew I should feel nervous and anxious.

I knew what he was trying to say, but his presence made me so calm that I couldn't even find it inside myself to get worked up and overthink it.

Sure, as soon as I was inside and alone I would be consumed by my thoughts, slipping into the well and drowning in them, but at the moment, I was at ease.

When Niall finally did look back up, even with his hat I could see his cheeks were flushed in the glow from the streetlight just down the road. I thought it was beautiful, the colour in his cheeks. Even in the low light, I thought it was perfect.

“God, am I making a mess of this? I'm making a mess of this,” he started. “I'm sorry. I haven't done this in… I'll just… I'm sorry.” He started to turn away.

“Niall,” I reached out a hand and placed it on his arm. He was warm. My hand felt like it was radiating his warmth and it spread to my entire body. “It's okay.”

He gave me a small smile, he looked shy. I dropped my hand.

“Thanks. I know I'm mucking it up, but you're being very nice about it.”

I just smiled.

“How about: we should do this again sometime soon? Is that better?”

I laughed, but it wasn’t at him. It was just the situation.

“I’d like that,” I ended up saying.

“Yeah?” It almost sounded like he was surprised.

“Yeah.”

“That’s brilliant!” He was beaming.

I bit my lip at that look. I'd never seen him smile so wide before, and it was then that I noticed he had a single dimple. In a moment I had my hand up, ghosting over his face, my fingers splayed across his cheek just barely, as my thumb poked the dimple.

Niall gave me a look and then leaned in.

That overthinking? It was back! Oh my god. What was happening? This would completely ruin the friend group if it went south. What was I thinking? How could I have let it get this far? What an idiot I was. This was going to be bad. Louis would hate both of us. He would be miserable if something bad happened. We’re utter idiots for having gone out.

I was so delusional telling myself it was platonic. I knew myself better than that! I knew I was feeling more than friendship and instead of being smart about it, instead of keeping my distance, I went out with him. I got close.

I like him.

Niall, always full of surprises, kissed me on my cheek, my hand on his cheek the whole time.

At that moment I decided to hell with it all. I wanted to see where this went. I knew the consequences, I’m sure Niall did as well. I knew what the worst was that could happen, and yet here I was.

His lips on my cheek stopped the world. That ease that Niall brought to me was emanating from every bit of his body and with the two of us connected I didn’t just feel it in my bones that I was safe but I felt it wrap around me as well, like a warm, soft blanket that could fight off the dark of the world.

I knew what could go wrong, and yet here I was.

I felt breathless when he pulled back, my hand dropping back down to my side limply. I’m sure I was flushed, and I’m sure it was noticeable, even against my skin and in the limited light. I couldn’t keep up with my thoughts.

“Have a good night, Ruby,” he smiled.

“You too, Niall.”

He stepped off the porch but waited until I was safely inside before he turned and left.

[beardyallen]

Bad news, guys...

Alright, so I’ve decided that, seeing as I’ll be visiting W-Town and the Great Wall again in May (when it will be waaaaay prettier), I’ll just do a post about it then.

Suffice it to say, it was a dope trip.

HOWEVER!!!!! I’ll tell y’all about my time since. The major highlight since the W-Town trip was obviously St. Patrick’s Day. I was somewhat nervous, given that most of the people I’ve met here probably wouldn’t want to celebrate the way that my family (which is way better at St. Patrick’s Day than your family, thank-you-very-much) celebrate.

There were no green alligators or long-necked geese, and that bleeding pub didn’t catch fire. Certainly not 12 times!! I suppose I still saw the same number of unicorns as usual, but I think I would have had bigger problems if there more.

My plan for that day was to make it to Paddy O’Shea’s Pub, the Irish pub of Beijing, by 12pm on the 17th. As it turns out, the Pub had started their St. Patrick’s Day celebration on the 16th because they knew some people wouldn’t want to be completely hungover for work the next day.

For me, though, 12pm on the 17th seemed a perfect time to start as it would be 12am on the morning of my grandmother’s would-be 91st birthday. I could go on and on about how wonderful that woman was, and how big of an impact she had on me, but I’ll just say this: she was a good Bud. I’m obviously incredibly thankful for this teaching opportunity, but I’m struggling with being okay about missing out on St. Patrick’s Day in Northern Michigan this year. At least I was there last year and for Christmas and the New Year. That will have to be enough.

Anyway, I went with ML, S and another neighbor L, none of whom have ever truly celebrated St. Patrick’s Day like an American, let alone a Sylvain, but they were open to trying. And I was the one leading the group, which I still think is strange as I thought I was the least capable of the 4 of us at guiding a group through this very Chinese city. Fortunately, that compass in my brain works just as well on this side of the world as it does state-side.

Oh, and I looked damn fine, if I do say so myself!

We were a tad late to Paddy O’Shea’s, but the beer came quickly enough, and it tasted almost as good as it would have at the Side Door Saloon.

I didn’t take a picture of the bangers and mash that I ordered, but I couldn’t have been more pleased.

One major difference between celebrating here versus back in the States: there were people born and raised in Ireland celebrating with us! And there was a really cute bartender from just outside Dublin that came to serve beer just for that evening...

OH! On the Wednesday before, one of my students asked if I was going to wear a green hat when I celebrated, and the rest of the room laughed. I didn’t get the joke, commented that I’d for sure wear my green tie but that I didn’t own a green hat. After inquiring about the hat, they shared that, in China, wearing a green hat sort of sends the message that you’re a cuckold. 

I would later find out the “historical basis” for this strange cultural faux pas: during the Warring States Era in China, there was a famous political icon who I was known to wear a green hat. Apparently he was a big deal, and he always wore a green hat. And then his wife cheated on him, so now a green hat means what it means. That’s it. That’s the whole story. It happened to one dude who happened to wear a green hat, and now it’s this huge thing that college students laugh about. *shrug*

Anyway, back to Paddy O’Shea’s. The bar itself was more “authentic” than I have grown to expect. I’ll probably pass the time in that pub a few more times before my time here is up. One of the key advantages is that it has a fully functioning website, which is something I’ve learned not to take for granted anymore. When I was searching in the days prior for a place to celebrate, I had stumbled across another bar: Molly Malone’s. Do not (I REPEAT: DO NOT) visit the website for Molly Malone’s. Especially at work. With the door open. When anybody and their mother could walk by.

The website, the one that the location on Google Maps and every other map app links you to, looks like a mid ‘90′s website with a few notable images. I’ll describe it for you to the best of my memory: the background is all black, all of the text is placed in little white rectangles, all of which span the middle 40% of the site and fit jigsaw-like to form one large rectangle of questionable links. The font itself is in a variety of cheap styles and bright, neon colors. Flashing text, coloring-changing text. The works. Again: it looked like a mid ‘90′s website. But not just any mid ‘90′s website.

A mid ‘90′s website with vulgar images that would make a 12 year old blush and fidget uncomfortably in their seat. I repeat again: do not visit this site! WHY IS THIS THE OFFICIAL SITE FOR THE WEBSITE?

And when I found out that, not only is this bar a real place that happens to be near a few foreign embassies and it is reportedly not-too-difficult to find a “lady of the night” in its vicinity, I wasn’t surprised? Why is it that those two pieces of information just “fit together?”

*sigh*

Paddy O’Shea’s, in contrast, is an upstanding establishment. And though they had started their party the day before and kept it going all night, the place was still in remarkably good shape, all things considered. Most of the seating was filled when we arrived, but by the time I left around 8pm (I’m completely guessing here; I have no idea what time it was), all of the standing room was occupied.

ML and S seemed quite gungho about having an Irish Car Bomb, while L was shocked that anyone would use such a phrase to describe a beverage. Unfortunately, ML had some grading to get back to, so they left before we ordered one, but not before some rando came by and spray-dyed my beard and S’s hair green.

The dude in the middle isn’t the guy that did the coloring; just another “victim.”

Not too long after, my officemate showed up; it was comforting to have someone there who had a decent grasp on the holiday!

The non-Americans left soon thereafter, but AL and I kept ourselves sufficiently “entertained.” His friend P was also meeting us! She don’t think she’s ever really celebrated St. Patrick’s Day either, but she joined AL and myself in our one and only Irish Car Bomb of the day. Kudos to her!

AL and I chatted the next day and confided that we were both a bit more pissed than we thought...

NR also came out to join us, but she didn’t arrive until after P was getting hungry. Although why she didn’t seem interested in bangers and mash, I have no idea. When AL and P left, P made sure to leave me with some chaperones, a group of ex-pats from several other countries who P had joined for a shot of Fireball. For some reason. P was terrified at the idea of leaving me alone at a bar in Beijing. As if anything could go wrong?! I was with my people!

Anyway, I chatted up a nice girl from Texas, mostly about teaching because what else do I talk about nowadays, and NR finally showed. The good sport that she is, she joined me for another beer, and then we left to find food elsewhere. The place was getting to be a bit to much; she had just arrived, my voice was on it’s way out, and her’s would have joined it not too long after.

As it turns out, there was a place just around the corner that specialized in Peking Duck, something that AL and I were both quite curious to try thanks to KFC’s interesting spin on it...

But again: my beard was green. And I wouldn’t say that I was loaded, but there were at least four rounds in my six-shooter, if you catch my meaning. And this restaurant was niiiiiiiiceeee!!! There were 4 different people who helped us before we got to our table: one took our reservation, another led us to the stairs, a third took us up the stairs, and a fourth led us the last 10 feet to our table.

In hindsight, I was worried that it was just the way-too-many-beers-prior-to-entering-this-establishment that made watching this guy slice the duck so fascinating, but NR mentioned the followed day that she found the experience just as captivating.

Also, I’ve never been one for bathroom selfies...but when (drunk) in Rome (and by Rome, I mean a restaurant that I have no business being in), you do as Romans do. (Fun fact: Roman’s invented selfies. #themoreyouknow #notfakenews #youhearditherefirst)

#romansdidntinventselfies #dontberidiculous #leavetheridiculousnesstomeandmygreenbeard

Seriously. This dude was awesome. I wish we had more footage...Guess you’ll just have to go there for yourself!

We also ordered several other dishes, all of which were amazing. Some shrimp, some part of a lamb, I think. All of it was good. Like everything else I’ve had in China!

All in all, the weekend was dope, the week after was less-so, and the coming weekends will be amazing. My students had their first exam this week, and on Tuesday I ordered an American cheeseburger and a Budweiser from a western-style restaurant just to see if it holds up out here. It was...so-so. Last night, I joined a couple friends for a drink at a bar called “Lush;” apparently it was open-mic night. One of the guys I was with was hoping for an environment more conducive to idle chit-chat amongst the group, so we ended up leaving after only one. I was displeased as I was having a great time. Guess I’ll just have to wander back out that way on my own sometime.

The plan for Sunday was to visit the Forbidden City, but I guess they ran out of tickets, so we’ll find something else to do. Will post after that. The weekend after is a Craft Beer festival that several of the faculty here will be visiting. I’m pumped.

OH! And I think I’ll be visiting Shanghai at the end of April! I didn’t know this, but apparently Shanghai was all grassland like 50 years ago! (This, according to one of the guys last night. Feel free to fact-check this.)

It’s going to be an interesting couple of weeks...

If only I could get my sleep schedule back on track. This whole “falling asleep at 4am and waking up at Noon” business is getting ridiculous. I blame my teaching schedule. #ishouldntcomplainbecauseimteachinginchina

Sláinte,

BeardyAllen

P.S. I’m super pumped for Shazam! And the End Game trailers are driving me up a wall...

[nellievances]

Saw your tag about how Stuart Scola was your fictional boyfriend and I was like “huh, I wonder if she also likes James Aubrey/Bones 🤔🤔” then I looked up the tag just for fun AND YOU DO LIKE JAMES AUBREY AND BONES AND I GOT SO EXCITED BECAUSE HE’S THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE AND I’M ALSO LIKE A JAMES AUBREY/ STUART SCOLA LOVER ™️ . *high fives you for being a part of the Good-Taste Gang*

to be fair. to be fair. i don’t think i ever saw bones while he was on it??? maybe only a few episodes at most??? don’t hate me i think those posts are just me reminiscing for the most part

however. stuart scola. ohhhhhhh man. he is my baby boy. my little fbi agent. my best guy. the hold he has on me? insane. i have written and published honest to god fanfiction about him. and you can bet your ass i will be sat in front of the tv every tuesday night at 8pm without fail to catch even just a glimpse of him.

[ineverhadmyinternetphase]

Keep It Down

AO3 Link

Genre: Oneshot, fluff, getting together

Summary: Fiction. Phil wants a quiet life. That's all he's asked for. He doesn't want the new neighbour to blast music at him at 2 in the morning, so if he would kindly stop then that's all Phil needs

Warnings: no angst, just fluff

Word Count: 13k

A/N: Writing this because I’ve been stuck ill in bed for over a month, my arms ache from blood tests, I can’t focus on my ongoing projects, and my neighbours won’t stop blaring music. I am in need of fluff.

So I wrote it for myself xDThank you to @agingphangirl and as ever my wonderful @charlottekath for both letting me ramble about this as I wrote it

Originally, I wanted to have In My Way finished before the New Year. But it is proving more difficult than I thought, and I wanted to post something for Phil’s birthday, so here we have this instead ^_^

Reminder that I don’t know Dan or Phil at all and I’m not suggesting this in any way reflects reality. This is a work of fiction

---

A quiet life. That’s all Phil wants. A quiet life tucked away in his simple little flat, not too big, not too small, though he’s lucky to be able to afford London at all, he knows. Simple bedroom and lounge with an open-plan kitchen, bathroom tucked away around a corner, nothing fancy, but not too shabby either. His laptop open, editing a file his boss sent him earlier that day but Phil hadn’t bothered to look at until now.

And the walls shaking around him with the blare of the bass from above.

Phil groans, hands falling away from his mouse to instead massage his temples. It’s been hours. Hours of endless music throbbing through his flat, thick and loud and ceaseless. Annoying barely covers it. It isn’t even late, and it’s a Thursday. Who parties on a Thursday?

Phil tries to be a nice neighbour, he really tries. He brings in the mail if it’s been left outside, he helps people with their shopping bags if he sees them struggling, and he’s been known to carry heavy books up the endless flights of stairs for his friend across the hall when the lift in their building was out of service. He’s friendly to everyone he meets, largely because he doesn’t really know anyone else living here, not a local from this city. Plus, Phil doesn’t like to leave people in a worse mood than when he meets them.

But there is a line. And his line is turning out to be blasting music at 8pm on a Thursday.

Phil gets to his feet, saving his progress, and turns to grab his keys before making his way solidly out of his flat, the door shutting firmly behind him.

The flat above him only became occupied a couple of weeks ago. Phil saw the removal van and heard the sound of footsteps above his head for the first time, but beyond that he has no idea who is now living above him. So as he takes the stairs up one floor, nervously counting doors as he wanders down the corridor, he really has no idea what to expect.

He ends up counting the doors three times over, just to make absolutely sure he’s going to knock at the right flat. He can’t imagine anything much more mortifying than complaining to the wrong person. Phil finds it hard enough to complain in the first place.

Gathering his courage, and drawing in a slow breath, Phil raises his fist and knocks three times, politely.

It takes a few moments for there to be a response. Phil counts the seconds nervously, reminding himself that he’s perfectly within his rights to be there, that noisy neighbours are a legitimate problem. Just a problem he’s never specifically had to face before, despite his 27 years.

The door finally flies open, and there’s a man leaning against the doorframe. Oh, a man as tall as Phil. Taller than Phil. Dark eyes, hair swept under a black beanie, a couple of freckles dotted on one cheek.

Phil can’t help but notice that the man is very, very cute.

“Yeah?” He says, almost tiredly. His eyes bore into Phil’s without interest, looking straight through him, glassy and sharp.

Phil swallows and hopes it doesn’t sound like a gulp. There is no doubt in his mind that he’s got the right flat – now the door is open he can hear the music again, a dull thumping in the background, still intangible. It helps, reminds Phil why he’s there in the first place.

He draws himself up and looks the man dead in the eyes. “Hi, yeah, sorry. I live below you, and—”

“You do?” The man’s eyes gain slightly more interest.

“Yeah,” Phil acknowledges before stumbling on quickly. “And I hate to be that guy, really, but – your music. I’m working, you know?”

The man raises an eyebrow. “My music.”

“Yeah.”

“What about my music?”

“It’s, well,” Phil grimaces, “A little loud?”

The man simply looks at him.

Phil looks back, determinedly.

“Loud,” the man finally relents, his tone flat. “You think this is loud?”

“My walls are literally shaking,” Phil says, weakly.

The man’s lips twitch in the slightest hint of a smirk. The look suits him. “Well, that’s not my problem.”

Phil bristles, his brow furrowing at the blatant rudeness coming in waves from this stranger. His lip pulls down. “Oh. Right. Well, in any case – could you at least turn it down a little? My work, you know.”

“It’s late,” the stranger shrugs. “Probably about time to stop working, I’d say.”

Phil pauses in astonishment. Really? Phil is a friendly guy, he doesn’t think he’s had a first conversation go this badly in his life. He decides that it’s time to stop being polite, no matter how cute this stranger may look with the hint of a curl peeking out from beneath that beanie. “Yes, well, some of us don’t have that luxury, so if you could please deign to turn your music down I would really, really appreciate it.”

His sarcasm isn’t exactly cutting, but it’s still enough to make the man back off a little. With the curve of a smirk touching his lips, and the hint of something sharp in his eyes, the man simply jerks his head in what might have been a nod. “Duly noted. See you around.”

And with that, the door slams shut in Phil’s face.

Well. Phil bites back his bristling anger, the odd tingling burning sensation that he doesn’t often feel bubbling up in his chest. It takes a lot to get him riled, honestly, he considers himself fairly laid back, but something about that stranger’s smirk just sets Phil on edge.

He returns to his room with a stab of resentment, only mildly appreciative when the music shuts off half an hour later, too late for him to think through editing anymore that evening.

---

The next time Phil runs into the man occupying the apartment above him is a breezy Tuesday. Phil’s standing in the lobby of their building, attempting to brush the clump of autumnal leaves that had decided to follow him back inside after his quick run to the shops. He wouldn’t have gone, but he was almost out of milk and the thought of waking up to no coffee in the morning was enough to drive him out of the house, even if he had to walk ten minutes further to get the kind of almond milk that he liked.

He’s leaning against the wall, hopping on one foot, when there is a clatter on the stairs followed by a low screech, and the man who lives above him comes tumbling down the stairs in a rush, just catching himself on the bannister and scarcely avoiding a fall.

Phil raises his eyebrows, biting back a smirk. “You alright over there?”

“Just fine,” comes the sharp response. The man barely glances at him, eyes quickly darting back to the floor as he brushes off his jacket. Black, like the rest of his clothes. No beanie today though, and his hair falls perfectly straight. Strange. Phil could have sworn he’d caught the hint of a curl last time they met.

Speaking of, Phil isn’t sure how he should feel about seeing the man again. He supposes it’s difficult to completely avoid someone living in the same building as him, but still, the man had radiated rudeness last time they met. Phil isn’t exactly jumping for joy at seeing him again.

Still. The man is still brushing his coat down and concertedly ignoring Phil’s gaze, and for lack of a better word he looks cute, obviously trying to brush off a near fall.

Phil bites both his lips, looking away as he says, “Might want to check your balance.”

“Yes, thank you,” comes the sardonic reply, and when Phil looks over again he sees the man sending him a sharp glare. His eyes are narrowed, dark, but much to Phil’s surprise he finds he quite likes being under the man’s gaze again.

“Just saying,” Phil shrugs, putting on his most innocent expression. “It’s dangerous to fall down, like – how many did you just fall down? Seven steps? – might want to watch yourself.”

“What are you, the stairs police?” The man snaps, stepping further into the lobby. Despite himself, Phil shrinks back a little – he isn’t used to being around people taller than him. Not that this man looks any more built than Phil himself is, too pasty to spend much time outside. “Besides, you’re not much better. Hanging onto the wall for dear life.”

Phil quickly retracts his hand from the wall, and then wobbles until he sets both feet firmly back down on the ground. He’s pretty sure there’s still a leaf attached to his heel, but he ignores it as he faces the stranger again. “At least I have gravity on my side. And anyway, I’m used to injuring myself in weird ways. I’ve got, like, three bruises that I don’t remember appearing.”

The corner of the man’s mouth twitches. “Vital information, that.”

“It’ll brighten your life knowing it,” Phil promises.

The man just shakes his head, but there’s a warmer tint to his tone as he says, “We’ll see about that.” Or, at least, Phil wants to pretend there’s a warmer tone behind his words.

He watches the man leave, wondering where he’s headed to on a cold autumnal night when it’s already dark, but then he remembers that it isn’t really any of his business.

---

The music is playing again.

It’s been a few weeks of blissful quiet, or at least normal levels of noise – the odd laugh from the hall as someone climbed the staircase, but nothing untoward. Nothing so annoying. But here it is again, the constant thump of a bass so loud that the coffee in the mug Phil has precariously balanced on the arm of his sofa is shaking.

He grits his teeth, debating going up again. Up to the level above him, but there is something about the music today. Something a little bit off. It’s the same heavy mass of noise as before, undiscernible in genre, just a loud quick tempo, but something else is hidden behind it. Phil sits for probably too long, trying to figure out what it is, his unedited work sitting open on his laptop.

Behind the thumping music, there is something softer. Something he barely catches in the occasional gaps between songs. A hum, a note, something pure, something that doesn’t belong.

It bothers him so much that he sits and listens until the music stops again, and the silence that floods his flat is no longer peaceful.

He returns to his editing with a heavy heart, only getting through a few scenes before he calls it a night. It’s late anyway, his boss can wait until the morning. Too late to be working, after all. About time to stop.

---

When Phil collects his post from the mailbox down in the lobby, there is something not addressed to him that’s somehow found its way into his pile. He recognises the number straight away. Flat 302. He lives in 202. 302 is directly above his flat.

He briefly considers the name. Daniel Howell. The man from the flat above him, with the dark eyes and the soft-looking hair, looks like a Daniel, he decides. The name suits his sharp eyes and witty tongue.

Phil contemplates the letter for several moments, standing in the lobby, his own post shoved forgotten under his arm. It looks inconspicuous, a simple plain white envelope, typed address, not handwritten. Nothing personal about it at all. Phil gleans nothing from it other than the man’s name.

He could just put it back in the correct mailbox. He probably should do exactly that. But something about the memory of the man’s smirk makes Phil turn, envelope in hand, and make for the staircase (the lift is broken, again. Just because Phil can afford to live in London doesn’t mean he can afford to live somewhere nice).

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and all that. Phil isn’t exactly sure what he expects to get from this experience, but he’s interested enough to follow it through, and what’s the worst that can happen, really? He gets his head bitten off again? Phil’s dealt with worse.

He drops his own post in his bag, but doesn’t stop at his floor. Instead goes straight up to the third and walks along the corridor, counting doors again until he comes to the right one.

This time, it is eerily quiet.

Still, Phil knocks, and waits patiently a few moments. Then knocks again.

Eventually, there is the soft sound of rustling and muffled footsteps, and then the door is being pulled open and the man – Daniel, presumably – is standing there all wrapped up in a hoody (still black) and what looks like jogging bottoms, black beanie pulled down over his hair. His nose is a little red, and he doesn’t hide the surprise that flits across his face at seeing Phil on the other side of the door. “Oh. Uh – hi?”

“Hi,” Phil answers, and bites his lip at the awkwardness radiating from the man before him. He holds up the letter, clutching at his reason for being here. “Sorry, I just – this was in my mailbox.”

The man frowns a little, reaching out. Phil hands over the letter reluctantly.

“Oh.” The man turns it over, studying it with an adorable little crease in his forehead. “Thanks, I guess? Don’t know how it ended up with yours, doesn’t look like much tbh.”

“Yeah,” Phil agrees, tilting his head. Who says tbh out loud? The man’s voice sounds sniffly, and his nose is still red. “Sorry, just – are you sick?”

The man glances up at him briefly, eyes puffy. There is the shadow of a dark circle underneath them, and Phil’s heart pulls. “Oh, you are sick. You poor thing. Have you got medicine?”

The man arches a brow, pulling back just a bit, and Phil remembers to rein in his instinct to poke his nose into anyone and everyone’s business just because he happens to be in slight proximity. He still doesn’t know this man, after all, and honestly hasn’t had the best of encounters with him so far. He should back off. Probably.

Instead, Phil says, “Sorry, I don’t mean to presume. It’s just. My mum always said you have to treat autumn colds quickly or they’ll linger, and I know you only moved in a few weeks ago, figured you might not have had time to stock up yet –”

“It’s fine,” the man interrupts him, and his voice is definitely thicker than normal. He waves an airy hand. “You’re just more perceptive than I thought you’d be.”

Phil’s brow crinkles. “Rude.”

“Come on, last time I saw you you had foliage leaking from your feet,” the man responds, and is that a teasing lilt to his tone? Phil thinks it might be. He tries to tie down the small flare of hope it incites in his chest.

“At least I didn’t almost land flat on my face in the lobby,” he points out.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” the man answers wryly, and pauses to sneeze.

Phil’s heart tugs insistently at him, and he gives easily, saying, “Ok, I’m going to, like, get you medicine? Ok? Is there anything you like in particular?”

Phil is given a tense, long look in response. The man’s – Daniel’s, Phil wants to start calling him Daniel – forehead is creased, his eyes unblinking as they look calmly into Phil’s. It might be intimidating, if it weren’t for the redness of his nose and the slight flushed patch on his left cheek.

“Why?” Daniel asks finally.

Phil lifts a brow. “Why what?”

“Why are you standing on my doorstep offering to get me medicine?” Daniel flaps a half-hearted hand at him. “We’ve had, like, two conversations max, and for one of those you were shouting at me.”

“I wasn’t shouting,” Phil disagrees quickly.

“You were.”

“No, I was just – loudly voicing my opinion. Asking you to be quiet, actually.”

The corner of Daniel’s mouth twitches up. “And in thanks for my annoying bad neighbourly habits, you’re offering to get me medicine?”

Phil stands still for a moment, but then his expression tightens. He nods once, firmly. “Yes. Because even rude bystanders deserve to avoid weeks-long illness. I’m gonna go to Boots, be back in like, ten minutes.”

“I can’t swallow tablets.”

Phil blinks, already half-turned away. “Excuse me?”

“Tablets,” Daniel adds, gaze fixed firmly on the floor when Phil turns back to look at him. “Can’t swallow them. Choke every time, it’s a pain in the arse.”

Silence hangs between them for a moment, in which Phil feels something settle between them, the tension not dissipating exactly, just… shifting.

“Right,” Phil says finally. “So no tablets then. Got it. Anything else?”

Daniel bites his lip, glances away. “I’m nearly out of milk.”

“What am I, your personal shopper now?”

“You asked!” Daniel’s voice goes adorably high-pitched, a croaky squeak that he instantly looks embarrassed about. “It’s not like you have to do any of this shit for me, you just – you offered, so—”

“So milk,” Phil cuts in, “Right. Now I’m going to leave before you pile any more of your shopping list onto me.”

“You offered,” Daniel replies indignantly, and stays in the doorway watching as Phil heads back towards the stairs.

Phil ends up buying him two cartons of milk, along with those sachets you can put into drinks to help with colds, both the day and night kinds, and a couple of chocolate bars as well because he knows what makes him feel better when he’s sick. And he figures Daniel must be really quite sick, because there had hardly been a sarcastic word out of him earlier. Which is unusual, going on what little Phil has gathered about him.

He traipses all the way up three flights of stairs with the heavy shopping bag and his own rucksack still slung on his back, panting more heavily than he’d like to admit when he finally reaches Daniel’s door again. He takes a moment to catch his breath, standing alone in the dim corridor that’s identical to the one outside his own flat.

When he knocks, there’s something like a crash from the other side of the door before it opens and Daniel’s stood there again, cheeks flushed, beanie slipping a little to the side. A curl makes itself known, curling just above Daniel’s ear. It’s adorable, he looks adorable, all bundled up and sniffling, nose still red.

Phil holds up the bag, leaning against the doorframe. “Right. No tablets, just those sachet things, my mum swears by them, only make sure you drink enough water too. And got your damn milk, lugged it all the way up the stairs for you too.”

“You didn’t have to,” Daniel snivels, taking the bag from Phil and stepping back. He leaves the door open as he heads further inside, but Phil still teeters in the doorway, peeking just barely inside. It smells like must and cleaning liquid, lemon scented. He can spot a scented candle burning away in a corner.

“You coming in or what? I’ve got the coffee machine on.” Daniel’s voice comes from the direction of the kitchen, so Phil steps hesitantly inside, shuts the door behind him, follows Daniel over to the counter.

“Ok, but you can’t have coffee,” Phil reprimands, stepping over and watching Daniel fetch two mugs down from a cupboard (one is minions, which has Phil seriously reconsidering having anything to do with this man at all, but the other one has an adorable photo of a dog that looks more personal, so he’ll hold on for now). “It’s dehydrating.”

“Yes, mum,” Daniel snorts. He’s poking around in the bag Phil brought him, depositing the milk in the fridge, pausing over the chocolate. He sends Phil a look.

“What?” Phil says defensively. “It always helps me feel better.”

Daniel just shakes his head, but there’s a small smile touching his lips as he slips the chocolate into a cupboard. He takes out the medicine packets next, studying them with apparent detail. Then he says, “I’m Dan, by the way.”

“Oh.” Phil reconsiders what he’d been calling him in his head. “Hi. Hi, Dan.”

Dan glances up at him, lips twitching.

“I’m Phil,” Phil says belatedly. “Live directly beneath you. Which is why I know where you live. Sorry. Bit weird, isn’t it?”

“Sure,” Dan agrees, flicking the kettle on. “If by weird you mean incredibly rude, coming up here telling me to turn my music down.”

A frown creases Phil’s brow. “Hey, no, it was so loud. I couldn’t think straight.”

“Doesn’t seem to bother anyone else.”

“No one else lives directly below you,” Phil points out. “I appreciate having my walls intact, thank you very much.”

Dan shakes his head, his beanie slipping a little further to the side, more curls tumbling out. “You’re exaggerating a fuck ton, mate.”

“You wouldn’t know,” Phil mutters. “Don’t know how you stand it, anyway, being right in the middle of a racket like that.”

“I’ll have you know it’s art,” Dan disagrees, picking up the kettle. “Sugar?”

“Two,” Phil confirms, “And no coffee for you.”

“It’s decaf—”

“Still dehydrating, take the medicine I so dutifully went out and bought you.” Phil watches with a stern gaze as Dan sighs dramatically and picks up the medicine packet. “And I fail to see how whatever noise you thud through my flat is in any way art.”

“You haven’t lived,” Dan snaps back, pouring out the water. He makes a face at his lemon-scented medicine drink, peering over it. “Are you sure this is worth it?”

“Trust me, that stuff works,” Phil reassures. He won’t admit it, but he enjoys the way Dan’s eyes crinkle up when he peers with suspicion at his drink, the corners creasing, his lips pulling into just a hint of a pout. It’s undeniably cute, and Phil would be lying if he didn’t at least acknowledge the slight pull of attraction to Dan tugging insistently at his insides.

“You’d better be right, Phil.” Dan makes a face, but he lifts the mug and takes a tentative, scalding sip. He looks distinctly displeased when he lowers the mug again.

Phil can’t help it – he emits a low laugh. “Sorry. Promise it’ll be worth it when your cold goes away, though.”

“Fucking better,” Dan mumbles, wiping his mouth. He passes the second mug, now full of coffee, over to Phil, looks at it with a distinct yearning.

Phil laughs again, accepting the mug. He’ll even forgive the minions, what with how undeniably cute Dan is being, and Phil doesn’t know if it’s the fact that he’s sick or if he just happened to catch Dan at bad times the past couple of times they’d met. Either way, he likes this Dan. Slightly pouty, slightly messy, but a bit of a delight, if Phil’s insides are to be believed.

He takes a sip of his coffee, takes a moment to glance around – Dan’s flat is laid out in almost the exact same way as Phil’s, open plan kitchen and lounge, small hallway leading to darkness but where presumably the bedroom and bathroom are. It’s weird, being in a place so similar to his own and yet not – none of the furniture is familiar, and yet he still feels at home.

“So do you just make a habit of looking after any lost strays you happen across?” Dan asks out of the blue, and when Phil turns back he finds Dan looking straight at him. “Or am I a special case?”

“I’m a fan of strays,” Phil answers ambiguously. “Though you’re particularly waif-y at the moment. All bambi eyes and sad sniffles. Maybe it’s that.”

“Oi,” Dan grumbles half-heartedly. “I’d kick you out if I had any fucks to give right now.”

Phil snorts. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But, like,” he looks up, meets Dan’s gaze with sincerity for a moment, “I’ll get out of your hair if you want. I know it sucks having company when you feel crappy, and I don’t think I’m exactly your favourite person at the best of times.”

“Can say that again, fucking noise police,” Dan grumbles, but Phil thinks it’s good-natured. Dan is smiling at him, at least, a small smile that only just touches his eyes, but a smile all the same. “But seriously, it’s fine. Invited you in, didn’t I? Least I can do is give you coffee.”

“Well. Thanks.” Phil shifts a bit under Dan’s intense gaze, glances down, unsure how to take the invitation. He hadn’t expected this, honestly. But he’s enjoying himself, enjoying the odd tension he feels every time he meets Dan’s gaze, senses eyes on him when he isn’t looking, feels himself drawn to stealing glances at Dan whenever given the opportunity. It’s been a while since he’s felt drawn to someone.

He takes a sip. Dan’s coffee is more expensive than Phil’s, some fancy blend that Phil doesn’t normally bother with, actually doesn’t like as much as the cheap stuff. But he still has manners, so he smiles and glances back over at Dan, who is still making a face at his mug.

“Stop that,” Phil reprimands, “And drink up. Do you not want to get any sleep tonight?”

“Wouldn’t make much of a difference,” Dan snorts, but obediently sips anyway under Phil’s stern gaze. “Fuck. You’re worse than my actual mother.”

“Just making sure my money doesn’t go to waste,” Phil answers, but it’s softer than he intends it to be.

Dan meets his gaze again, and although he isn’t smiling exactly, there’s a sort of warmth dancing away in his eyes, hidden somewhere deep. Phil likes it. More accurately, he likes the way it feels when Dan’s eyes are on him.

Phil stays until his coffee is completely gone and Dan has had at least half of his medicine, and he learns that Dan is a writer, freelance, stays at home most of the time, that he likes Muse (“Well why don’t you play that instead of whatever crap you shake my walls with?” “It’s art, Phil, art, and Muse is mostly for special occasions.”) and that he’s incredulous over Phil’s admittance to preferring cheap coffee over expensive blends.

He also learns that Dan smells like coconut body wash and has rough, calloused fingers when he leans close to take the mug back off Phil.

Phil returns to his room with conflicted feelings. He’s still annoyed about the music thing, but Dan turned out to be much nicer than Phil was expecting, funny and sharp but also soft. But then again, that could have just been the sickness.

Phil pushes all thoughts of him from his mind, or at least, he tries to, and gets back to his editing.

---

He passes Dan on the stairway three days later, on his way out to a meeting. Dan is headed back upstairs, wrapped up in a long black coat (does he own anything in another colour?), still sniffling. His hair is straight again, falling across his forehead in a style very similar to Phil’s own, actually, now that Phil thinks about it.

Dan pauses when he sees him, stopping short with one foot in the air, eyes wide.

Phil looks back, feels the same rabbit-in-the-headlights caught feeling tighten in his chest. Last time they spoke, things ended well, but not with any degree of finality. Phil really isn’t sure where they stand, exactly, not quite sure what they are. Friends? Friendly acquaintances?

No, none of that quite adequately describes the odd tension he could feel every time he catches Dan’s gaze on his.

“Hey,” Dan says finally, breaking the silence.

“Hey,” Phil answers, and then, because he can’t help himself, “Might want to put your foot down. Don’t want a repeat of you falling down the stairs.”

Dan huffs out a laugh, planting his feet on the step. “If I did, I’d fully expect you to scoop me off the floor.”

“Hey, I don’t wanna get my hands bloody,” Phil disagrees with a soft laugh.

“Gonna leave me to just bleed out then? Rude.”

“I mean, I’d feel bad for the porter. I might clean up a bit.”

“Rude,” Dan laughs, reaching out to prod Phil’s arm. It tingles where Dan touched it, the most cliché thing ever. Phil refuses to be part of a scene out of a romcom.

“Anyway,” Dan says, stepping back quickly and retracting his hand, “I should, uh. Stop delaying you, probably.”

“Probably,” Phil agrees. He hates being late, and he does have a meeting, but he still pauses on the stairs, glancing back up at Dan. “But, uh. I don’t. I don’t mind the delay?”

Dan pauses again, fumbles against the bannister, and for a fleeting moment Phil is genuinely worried that he actually will fall.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he steadies himself and looks Phil right in the eyes, and there’s the hint of a smirk on his face, something dangerous glinting in his eyes. “Well. I’ll delay you some more in the future, then.”

“Please do,” Phil says all in a rush, quickly, mortified.

Dan’s lifts his brows. His smirk grows.

“Shut up,” Phil mutters, and then turns to head on down the stairs. “I actually have a meeting. Shut up.”

“Sure thing, Phil,” he hears Dan call from behind him, but he doesn’t turn.

He can feel Dan’s laughing gaze on his back all the way out of the door.

---

One night, a couple of days later, Phil comes home to the rumble of music thudding through the walls of his flat again. He sighs, exasperated, and collapses on his sofa, wondering distantly if this is some twisted kind of summons. Dan could just come and knock on his door like any normal person, he doesn’t have to incite Phil into making a complaint.

But Phil is tired, he’s had a long day of meetings and actually had to go into the office for once rather than just working from home, so he splays out on his sofa and just listens for once, letting the loud thud of the bass echo in his skull.

He still doesn’t understand whatever music Dan is playing, but there’s something behind it again – something purer, something distant. Quiet. Slippery, like Phil can never quite catch it, even though he listens hard.

Eventually, the music stops, and Phil stays just contemplatively staring at his ceiling, thinking of Dan up there, in the flat that is like his and yet not, pacing about where Phil can hear footsteps. So close, and yet somehow still unreachable.

The silence is deafening.

---

One night, a week or so later, Phil has pizza in the oven and American Horror Story on the TV when there’s a knock at the door.

He is surprised, briefly, he hardly ever gets visitors, and the surprise grows when he opens it to find Dan standing on the other side.

“This is totally cliché,” Dan says, fiddling with his fingers in his pockets, “But, uh. I’m locked out, and you’re literally the only person I know in this building, so…”

Phil arches a brow, folding his arms. He leans against the doorframe, looking Dan up and down, and Dan shifts under his gaze. His hair is under a beanie again, long black jumper sleeves covering his hands, jeans so skinny they look painful.

The silence holds for a moment until Phil says, “You know, if you wanted to come see me, you could have come up with a better excuse.”

“I swear,” Dan mutters, fixing Phil with a staunch gaze, “I know what it sounds like, but – literally, I just walked out of the door thinking my keys were in my wallet but then I remembered I put them on the table yesterday for fuck knows what reason –”

“Sure,” Phil drawls, stretching out the syllable.

Dan looks at him plaintively. “I promise. I’d come up with a better excuse if I was lying. Not that I would, uh. Lie. To come and see you.”

“You wouldn’t?” Phil puts his hand on his chest as he steps out of the way, letting Dan into his flat. “I’m hurt, Daniel.”

“Well, I probably would, actually,” Dan mumbles, too fast to catch properly. Phil blinks for a moment before assuming he heard wrong. He must have. Even if his thrumming heartbeat disagrees. “Anyway,” Dan continues, stepping into Phil’s lounge, “I really don’t know anyone else, and I don’t want to admit to a random stranger that I’m literally dumb enough to lock my keys inside my own flat, so.”

“So you decided an almost-stranger is better than a random one?” Phil answers with a raised brow.

Dan just looks back at him so plaintively that Phil feels his heart tug. Ridiculous. But he gives, with a small shake of his head, waving Dan over to the kitchen where he flicks the kettle on. “Alright, fine, you can stay here while you wait for your landlord.”

“Right, yeah,” Dan mumbles, “Landlord. Yeah.”

Phil glances at him over the counter. “Or whoever has your spare key.”

“Didn’t get around to giving it to anyone,” Dan shrugs, coming round the counter to join Phil. He leans his hip against the side of the oven, watching Phil get out two mugs. The proximity makes Phil’s head cloud, slows his thinking a little. “Don’t even know where it is. Probably still in the drawer, in my flat, which I’m locked out of. Not the most helpful, you know?”

“No,” Phil chuckles in soft agreement. “Landlord it is, then.”

Dan doesn’t reply straight away, instead shuffling on his feet. When Phil looks up, his head is cast down, eyes fixed on a spot on Phil’s (slightly grubby) tiles. “Yeah. Uh. My landlord will… have a spare set, then?”

Phil blinks at him. Then tilts his head. “I mean, yeah? Usually. Not that I’m claiming to know your arrangement, or anything, just—”

“No, yeah, of course,” Dan interrupts hastily. “Makes sense. I just, uh. Hasn’t really happened to me before, you know.”

Phil looks at him contemplatively mid-spooning out coffee. Dan looks young, and his height could be deceiving Phil into thinking he’s older than he really is. His face is smooth, unlined aside from the crinkles around his eyes when he laughs. He decides to question. “Not lived alone for long, then?”

Dan makes a face. “No, I have. Like. I lived alone at uni, I just – it’s different.”

“Recent graduate?” Phil guesses, studying Dan’s expression. He’s staring at the floor still, eyes creased, and there’s a hint of a pout on his lips.

“Not exactly,” Dan disagrees, glancing up briefly to meet Phil’s gaze. Phil tries to ignore the sharp little squeeze in his chest that accompanies it. “I’m 23. Graduated a couple of years ago, moved back home for a bit. Then I came here.”

“Ah.” That makes a lot of sense. Phil is strangely grateful for the increasing picture of Dan growing before him, starting to make sense of the bits and pieces he knows. He wonders what makes him play such loud music, why he paces sometimes late at night when Phil is working and can hear the footsteps creaking above him.

“What about you?” Dan asks, and Phil turns to find him fixing Phil with a curious gaze.

Phil arches a brow. “What about me what? Also, do you take sugar with your coffee?”

“Nah,” Dan answers, “Just milk. And I mean, how old are you, did you graduate, all that stuff.”

“You wanna get to know me,” Phil says, biting back a smile as he adds milk to their coffees and sugar for him.

“Fuck off,” Dan tells him, but takes the mug Phil hands him with a soft smile.

Phil just grins back. “I’m 27. Got a masters, now I work from home. Spend most of my time here.”

“Freelance?”

“Yeah, but not writing. Editing. Short films, music videos, stuff like that.”

“Really?” Dan’s eyes light up a little in interest. Phil is a bit overwhelmed at having him here, his presence in Phil’s kitchen. “Sounds fun.”

“It is, when I’m not having music blasted in my ears when I’m trying to work,” Phil says a little pointedly.

Dan snorts. “Smooth. And I only play at like, 2am now, you shouldn’t be working then.”

“Needs must, sometimes,” Phil complains. “I’m a night owl. You keep ruining it.”

“Sorry,” Dan smirks, not sounding very sorry at all.

Phil rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. It’s difficult for him not to smile around Dan. He finds his smirk infectious, the mirth often hiding in his eyes enticing. He tries not to dwell too much on what that might mean, and ignores the thudding tug of his heart every time Dan is in close proximity to him.

Dan stays long enough to call his landlord and watch a couple of episodes of American Horror Story with Phil (turns out he’s been following it too, but is more caught up than Phil. He says he doesn’t mind watching the episodes again though). At some point Phil remembers his dinner and rushes to rescue it from the oven, and he shares the slightly burnt slices with Dan until his landlord shows up.

Dan turns out to be a good watching companion. He doesn’t talk through the good bits, and uses the slower moments to whisper opinions to Phil, often sharp-witted and well thought out. Phil comments as much, and Dan admits that his freelance writing includes reviewing films, sometimes.

Phil makes a mental note to look him up later.

All in all, it’s a nice evening, and when Phil waves Dan off to greet his landlord, it’s with a warm feeling settling comfortably in his stomach.

---

The next time music echoes loudly through Phil’s flat, he actually has company. Jimmy’s around, sitting with him to reminisce about uni days over drinks and a board game, one of the few that’s actually good for 2 players. They’ve got cards scattered all around his table and Phil’s actually inching towards winning when the bass starts up, loud enough to shake their glasses on the table.

“Woah,” Jimmy comments, “Someone’s having a party.”

“I highly doubt he is, actually,” Phil snorts. Dan is solitary, he knows him well enough to know that, and in fact it’s difficult to imagine Dan in a room full of other people. In Phil’s mind, Dan is always solitary, not existing outside the confines of their building. He wonders what Dan would look like in a crowd.

Jimmy eyes him in confusion. “You know what’s going on?”

“It’s just Dan,” Phil says with a shrug.

“Dan?”

“Guy who lives above me. He does this, sometimes.”

Jimmy huffs, scanning his hand before placing a card deliberately down on the table. “Must drive you mad.”

“You get used to it,” Phil shrugs, and wonders at how true that is. He’s grown accustomed to the odd nights of shaking walls and blaring bass, still none the wiser as to what Dan actually sees in this kind of music. But there is still that sweeter tone behind it that Phil hears sometimes, tugging at his ears, inviting him in further. It didn’t fit with the pounding bass, wasn’t even in time with it sometimes, at least not to Phil’s untrained ears. It nagged at him.

Jimmy is still fixing Phil with an unrelenting gaze. “So what, you just put up with it?”

“No,” Phil says, defensively. “I went up to complain, actually, the first time.”

“And?”

“He was a bit rude,” Phil admits, “But then he got better.”

Jimmy arches a brow. “Still plays the music, though. Doesn’t sound so great to me.”

“Well, no.” Phil furrows his brow. Thinks for a moment, wonders, objectively, why it bothers him to hear Dan spoken ill of when really he hasn’t done very much good at all.

But Phil remembers what Dan looked like when he was sniffly and sick, and when he was standing in Phil’s kitchen looking a little lost, and his heart tugs again. He can feel his lips curving up into a small smile, and for once he doesn’t stop it.

“Woah,” Jimmy laughs, and Phil jolts out of himself to see Jimmy giving him a knowing look.

“What?” Phil asks, a little too late.

“I know that look,” Jimmy hums, his eyes bright as he takes Phil in. “This Dan. He hot?”

Phil chokes and fumbles with his hand of cards, suddenly becoming very interested in studying the small print.

He can feel Jimmy’s gaze burning into him.

Finally, after a long moment, Phil mumbles, “Maybe.”

Jimmy laughs, shaking his head so his hair falls flat over his eyes. He sweeps it back with an easy hand. “Well. Must be quite a sight, if you’re putting up with this.” He gestures to the table where their drinks are still wobbling with the thrum of the bass.

“Yeah,” Phil mumbles, tips of his ears burning as he puts his card down, barely even focusing. “Whatever. Can we just play, please?”

“Haven’t seen you like this since second year at uni,” Jimmy chuckles, but he obediently goes on with the game. They both pretend not to see the way the back of Phil’s neck has turned a glowing red.

---

It’s raining, the kind of unpleasant rain that hangs like mist in the air and clings to every patch of exposed skin. Phil is shivering, ducked low under his hood, relieved for once that he heeds his mum’s words closely and has invested in a good long raincoat. He’s almost back at his building after a meeting with his boss, his laptop safely tucked away in his rucksack.

He turns the corner and walks head-first into someone, colliding with a crash.

Phil gives a startled exclamation, stumbling back instantly. He hears a muttered shit from in front of him and looks up to see none other than Dan, dripping in a hoody with a mug of coffee held in front of him.

“Crap, sorry!” Phil exclaims, eyes wide. “Did I manage to spill that on you?”

Dan looks over and sees him, his expression relaxing with recognition. “Oh, it’s you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Phil huffs. “Oh, it’s you, thanks.”

“Sorry.” Dan bites his lip, hiding a smile if the dimple that appears in his cheek is anything to go by. Phil feels his heart tug again, steps in a little closer.

“You didn’t spill my coffee,” Dan continues, holding out his mug. “Saved by the green stick.”

Phil frowns, confused, but takes a closer look and sees that Dan’s mug is stoppered shut by one of the sticks they have at Starbucks, keeping his drink from spilling. He smiles, relaxing. “Oh, good. Was worried I’d burned you by accident then.”

“Nope, safe for today,” Dan answers, his tone warm. He holds up the cup towards Phil. “Would totally have made you buy me a new one if you had spilt it, though, I paid good money for this.”

Phil snorts. “There are easier ways to ask me to buy you a coffee.”

It comes out flirtier than he expected, and Phil has a heart-stopping moment of terror that he’s accidentally pushed too far.

But then Dan’s smile becomes a smirk, and he gives Phil a quick, blatant once-over, eyes flickering up and down his body. “I dunno. Not a hundred percent sure you’re my type.”

Phil huffs again. He feels himself draw up under Dan’s gaze, making himself taller, almost matching Dan even if Dan may have an inch or two on him. He arches a brow. “Rude. And here I was thinking I stood a chance.”

“Maybe.” Dan’s eyes are sparkling as he meets Phil’s. “If you get lucky.”

“The arrogance.” Phil shakes his head, but he’s smiling. There is the start of some impossible hope building in his chest, but as much as it hurts he squashes it down straight away. He doesn’t need to get tangled up in anything, especially not when Dan is doing nothing more than some innocent flirting.

Probably. But the dangerous smirk still playing about Dan’s lips has Phil doubting himself all over again.

“Anyway,” Dan delicately sidesteps Phil, coffee still in hand. “I actually was on my way to something – but rain check on that coffee?”

Phil blinks at him, silent for a beat too long. “Oh – yeah – yeah! Sure, I mean – not like I can exactly avoid you, you know where I live.”

“Ditto.” The smirk on Dan’s face clears into a smile, just for a second, but long enough for Phil to notice the crinkles around his eyes, the way his eyes soften. Phil’s chest tugs, hard.

He takes a breath.

“See you around.” Dan lifts his coffee in acknowledgment, then turns and continues on his way down the pavement, head bobbing above the crowds.

Phil watches him for probably too long, until he’s far down the pavement and about to turn a corner, before he heads back inside.

---

Phil is decidedly not having a good day.

He woke from a bad sleep in a rough mood, the lights too chafing on his eyes, his movements sluggish and reluctant as he got ready. He had another meeting at the office today; they were working on a big project for a client they hoped would become a repeat customer, and Phil was leading the editing team. An honour, but also a lot of hard work.

He heads to work through a downpour of rain, and on the way a strap of his rucksack breaks. A rare curse escapes his lips, and he’s forced to walk the rest of the way hugging his bag to his chest in hopes of protecting his laptop and folders.

He suffers through the meeting and leaves with a hell of a lot more responsibility on his back, a headache building at his temples, something like nerves or stress coiling tightly in his stomach.

His lack of sleep makes itself known when he gets back to his flat and curls up on his sofa to attempt some actual editing. The scenes all blur together, the images refusing to join up neatly. Phil chugs through two coffees in record speed and clicks and clicks away, barely making any progress but at least getting somewhere.

And then it starts again.

Throbbing, deep bass music rocking the walls of his flat, throbbing through the air, making the last dregs of his coffee jump in his mug. The noise joins the pounding in Phil’s head. He can’t think.

With a loud groan, Phil gives up on his editing and slams the lid of his laptop down, leaning his head back against his sofa cushions. The music doesn’t relent. He presses his palms to his face, fingers digging in, seeking some relief, but the bass continues to pound and his irritation and exhaustion continues to grow.

His muscles ache as he stands, and he only pauses to grab his keys before determinedly pacing to the door.

The walk up to Dan’s flat is a blur of avoiding people, keeping his head down and hands tucked into his pockets. When he gets to Dan’s door, he can hear the music still going, but there’s that tantalising quieter noise behind it – something Phil can’t quite place his finger on. Normally, he’d make an effort to search it out, but right now all he wants is for it to stop.

He knocks on the door loud enough to be heard over the racket, fists pounding, and then waits the few seconds it takes for the door to open.

When Dan appears on the other side, Phil sags, shoulders bowing, and simply begs, “Please.”

There’s a moment of silence.

Then: “Shit, Phil, are you alright?”

Phil flicks a glance up and sees Dan peering at him, a worried crease to his forehead. He’s dressed in a black-and-white stripy shirt, the first splash of colour Phil’s seen him wear (if white can really count as a colour). It suits him.

“Phil?” Dan steps in closer, worry clearly colouring his tone. He reaches out and grasps Phil’s elbow, and Phil’s heart does something funny.

Phil swallows, gets himself together, and tries to level a frown Dan’s way. It comes out weaker than he means when he says, “Dan, the music, please.”

“I thought you didn’t mind it.” Dan’s tone is level, but there’s a crack behind his words. He tugs on Phil’s elbow. “Come inside.”

Phil follows, reluctantly, his head still throbbing, but he won’t refuse another peek into Dan’s life. The music is louder from inside the flat, pacing through the walls, the sound thick enough that Phil felt like he had to physically move through it to enter the room. The lighter, softer sound Phil sometimes hears isn’t there at all anymore. He feels a pang of disappointment.

“Hang on.” Dan disappears for a moment somewhere to the left, and then the music stops and Phil is surrounded in beautiful, forgiving, gentle silence.

He takes a moment to breathe.

“Phil?” There’s a touch at his elbow, and Dan’s back in his vision again, eyes narrowed. He isn’t wearing his beanie today, curls falling freely down his forehead.

Phil looks back at him, straightening a little as he realises he can think straight again. He glances around, realises he’s been brought further into Dan’s flat than he realised, into a new, different room, some kind of study. There’s a desk and a computer, and two enormous speakers proudly on display. And in the corner sits a white piano, stool pulled out, keys on display, a tablet displaying chords balanced precariously on the music stand.

Phil blinks at it. A piano?

“Phil?” Dan tugs on his elbow, and Phil returns his attention to him. Dan looks worried still, tone concerned as he continues, “I’m sorry, I really didn’t think it bothered you anymore. You haven’t said anything the last few times.”

“Yeah,” Phil says, and his voice croaks. He coughs into his fist. “Yeah, sorry. I just. I don’t normally mind it, but…”

Dan bites his lip, surveys Phil closely. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“No.” The word slips out before Phil has a chance to catch himself. He closes his eyes for a moment, just breathes again.

There is a touch at his elbow, gentle, almost nervous. He opens his eyes again and Dan is levelling a sincere look at him, something like concern furrowing his brow.

“I just,” Phil tries to explain himself, “Hard day at work? And, like, my head feels a bit like a fairy spent most of the night stuffing cotton wool through my ears.”

Despite himself, Dan snorts, the sound surprising in the still air between them. “Rude fairy, that.”

“Tell me about it.” Phil shakes his head, moves unconsciously closer. The touch at his elbow has become firmer, Dan’s thumb rubbing gentle circles into his arm.

“I’m sorry,” Dan says, then points imperiously at the door. “Go sit on the couch.”

Phil blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Go sit on the couch.” Dan shuffles his feet, avoiding Phil’s eyes.

Phil arches a brow, his head still thrumming even with the blessed silence now filling the flat. But it still takes him a while to process. “What?”

“The couch, Phil.” Dan sighs loudly. “Go sit. Don’t fight me on this, you took care of me when I was sick, so. Returning the favour?”

Oh. Ok, that makes a little more sense. Something funny is burning at Phil’s insides, something he doesn’t feel very often, a strange mix bubbling away in his stomach. He tries to ignore it as he takes one last glance around the room, eyes lingering on the white piano for a moment, before he turns and moves in the direction of the lounge. It helps that this flat is laid out just like his, except where his study is Dan has set up the speakers.

Dan’s couches are white leather. Not the most comfortable, not like Phil’s ratty old things, but they fit the general look of the place, everything minimalist black and white with the odd streak of grey. It’s stylish, though Phil thinks there definitely isn’t enough colour.

“Stay there,” Dan says from behind him, waving haphazardly at the sofa cushions. “I think I’ve still got those gross drink sachet things you bought me before.”

Phil settles happily enough, listening to Dan clattering in the round somehow therapeutic. The knot of stress that had been tightening in his stomach the entire day so far is somehow unwinding, loosening his limbs. He actually finds himself relaxing.

Dan returns soon enough, placing the medicinal drink down in front of Phil before settling on the cushions beside him, hugging his own mug to his chest. The smell of coffee is heavy in the air.

Phil makes a face, curling up in the corner. “It’s too late to be having caffeine.”

“Good job you’re not my mother, then,” Dan says back playfully, and takes a long, purposeful sip.

Phil just rolls his eyes.

The medicinal drink tastes kind of awful, but Phil appreciates the gesture from Dan and thinks he may actually be coming down with something, so he makes sure to drink it all with the appropriate pathetic snuffling to garner sympathy.

It works, but only to some degree. Dan just rolls his eyes at him and calls him a wimp, all while fetching him a blanket and offering to put something calming on the tv. Phil appreciates all of it, but even more he likes the fond crinkles at the corners of Dan’s eyes when he smiles.

The knot in Phil’s stomach suddenly tightens again, but not from stress this time.

Dan chatters away while Phil drinks, telling him all about the latest pieces he’s written, one arsehole of an editor who keeps rejecting his ideas over passive-aggressive emails, the most recent being that morning. That is the culprit for Dan blasting the music, Phil finds out.

“I dunno, it just helps,” Dan shrugs, a slightly self-defensive edge to his tone. “Stop me thinking too much, helps me relax. I dunno.”

“Music that loud helps you relax?”

“Shut up,” Dan tells him determinedly. “’Sides, it’s not just the music.”

Phil arches a brow at him. “No?”

“No. I, uh.” Dan stops for a moment, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “I, uh, I play, actually.”

Phil sends him a confused look.

“The music hides it,” Dan adds, like it’s a confession. “So I can play without, like, worrying that someone will hear.”

“Play what?” Phil asks, his thoughts still slow and sluggish despite the drink.

Dan gestures vaguely towards the other room. “Piano. Uh, not much. But it helps, too, with the stopping me thinking too much.”

Phil’s eyes widen. He thinks back to the music, remembers the slightly sweeter, slightly softer tone that sometimes bleeds through, too quiet to catch. He makes a mental note to listen out for it next time.

“Beats just sitting around writing in silence, anyway,” Dan adds in a rush. “Freelance is great, but it’s a little lonely.”

“Tell me about it,” Phil agrees glumly. “The number of times I’ve had a conversation with my pillow when I’m trying to fix a particularly disagreeable scene.”

“My sofa cushions have heard many drafts of reviews,” Dan agrees.

“And having to constantly make your own hot drinks, no one else to do the rounds.”

“Yeah. Like, I genuinely hate office environments, but at least there you don’t have to pay for your own heating.”

“Or forget to stop working and take a lunch break.”

“Yeah.” Dan smiles briefly to himself. “That’s one I forget a lot, too.”

“We should take them together, then,” Phil says unthinkingly.

Dan looks at him, expression instantly becoming unreadable.

Phil swallows. Suddenly, his heart feels like it swells in his chest. “I mean, like. We’re both freelance. We should work together – like, in the same room. Make our own little office.”

For a tense moment, silence sits heavily between them. Phil’s heart is in his mouth.

But then Dan’s face breaks into a soft smile, and he lifts his fingers to flick his fringe out of his eyes. “Yeah, ok.”

“Ok?”

“At least this way we can poke each other to take proper lunch breaks,” Dan shrugs. “I’ll come to yours for, what, 11ish?”

Phil manages a small laugh. “Most offices start at 9, I think.”

“Yeah, but I know for a fact you’re just as much of a night owl as me,” Dan argues, “Which means you can’t be a morning person as well, that would just be unfair to the rest of humanity.”

Phil lets out a huff of laughter.

“I mean,” Dan adds quickly, eyes sliding away from Phil’s, “You’ve already got an unfair advantage, looking like that and yet still being all nice and shit.”

Phil’s back straightens in surprise. He chooses not to comment, however, and instead goes back to sipping at his drink. There is a warm fluttering in his chest, though.

---

After that, it becomes fairly normal for Dan to show up at Phil’s flat with his laptop under his arm, firmly claiming a place on Phil’s sofa. They work across from each other, often silently, sometimes filling the silences with noncommittal chattering and the odd coffee break. Phil buys some of the more expensive stuff when Dan makes a face at his mug one too many times, and Dan replaces the lactose-free milk he keeps using up from Phil’s supply.

It’s nice, and Phil thinks he may have gained a new friend.

At least, he thinks Dan’s a friend. And yet Phil can’t deny the tugs of attraction he feels every time he looks across and sees Dan buried in his laptop, a small furrow in his forehead when he works, or the cute dimple that he sports when he’s holding back a smile, or the curls that he hides with a hat on the days he hasn’t straightened his hair.

Phil doesn’t know what to do with these feelings. They’re a little overwhelming – he hasn’t had a crush in years, and wow does that phrase sound juvenile – so he just sort of tucks them away in his chest and folds himself around them, not exactly pushing them away, just not doing anything about them.

Dan, for his part, does nothing to suggest that he’s aware of what Phil’s feeling. His gaze sometimes lingers a little long, catching on Phil’s, and sometimes he’ll shuffle in close when Phil’s sitting next to him, their laptops adjacent but Dan just gently resting against Phil’s side, but they don’t talk about it. Phil likes the warm soft weight of Dan, so he doesn’t say anything for fear of making it go away. Dan, if he notices, seems content enough to let things pass.

They fall into a routine, and it’s nice. Phil learns some more about Dan, that he works at a furious rate once he gets going but actually getting to the process of writing is a long, difficult affair that occasionally leaves him with a dark look on his face. Phil doesn’t intrude, just makes him a warm drink and leaves it there in front of him, and then goes back to his laptop. Dan usually flashes him a grateful smile, but some days he just wordlessly reaches for the mug and curls his whole body around it, like he’s trying to make himself disappear.

Phil spends the times Dan isn’t around still going about his life, buying his groceries and going to meetings and spending time with his family. He’s headed back from dinner with his brother and his brother’s girlfriend (which he spent mostly dodging questions about who was taking up so much more of his time lately) when he stumbles in the porch of his apartment building, eyes falling on the shadow huddled up on the steps.

It’s dark, the streetlights casting a harsh orange glow, but Phil can still make out enough of the figure to know it’s Dan. Sitting out alone on the cold stone steps of their building, shivering and curled in on himself so tight it’s like he wants to disappear.

Phil doesn’t hesitate once he realises who is there. He heads straight over to Dan’s side and sits down next to him.

Dan rouses himself slightly, lifting his head, just the corner of one eye showing from the depths of his black scarf, beanie pulled firmly down over his head. He’s shivering, not wearing a coat, just a thin hoody.

Phil levels a frown at him. “You’re going to get a cold again if you stay out here like this.”

“Don’t.” Dan’s voice is muffled, cracked. He retreats back into the depths of his scarf. “Just, don’t even try it, Phil.”

Phil purses his lips, but doesn’t ask. He just settles in beside Dan, pushing the tips of his fingers between his squeezed-together legs, bunching his shoulders. He’d forgotten his gloves in his haste to meet Martyn earlier, and the tips of his ears are starting to ache with the cold. He leans a little into Dan’s side, grateful for the warmth but feeling him shivering.

Eventually, Dan’s muffled voice speaks up. “It’s stupid sitting out here, Phil, you should go inside.”

Phil raises a brow at him.

Dan rolls his eyes. “Yes, I know. But I’m allowed to be stupid.”

“And I’m not?” Phil huffs, knocking his knee gently against Dan’s. “Didn’t realise you had all the rights to stupidity.”

“Shut up,” Dan mumbles half-heartedly. “And go inside, it’s freezing.”

“I can tell from the amount of goosebumps on your face right now.” Phil leans forward, ignoring Dan, and instead shrugging out of his coat.

Dan watches with wide eyes as he gently drapes it around Dan’s shoulders. A crease appears in Dan’s brow, or what Phil can see of it, but at least Dan makes no move to pull the coat off.

“Did you just,” Dan says blankly.

“Yes,” Phil says firmly, and leans back into the step behind him, the tips of his ears going red. From the cold, Phil can pass it off as the cold if need be. The chill nips at his thin jumper, making his shivers increase.

Dan bites both his lips beneath the scarf, eyeing Phil closely. Then he gets to his feet.

Phil arches a brow at him.

“C’mon,” Dan mutters, pulling Phil’s coat on properly before making for the door. “If you’re going to be like that, let’s just go inside.”

Phil bites back his victory smile, following after Dan without a word. He also doesn’t comment when Dan leads them straight to Phil’s flat, waiting for Phil to unlock the door before striding in like he owns the place. Phil likes it more than he should probably admit, watching Dan be so comfortable in his space.

Dan still doesn’t take Phil’s coat off, not even once Phil’s switched his heating on and got them both settled on the sofa with mugs of hot chocolate to tide them over. Instead he curls up in a corner, legs on the cushion, cold toes digging into Phil’s leg. Phil doesn’t complain, just watches him. “So, are you going to tell me why you felt the need to sit outside in below freezing temperatures?”

“I’m an adult, I can make bad decisions if I want,” Dan replies without missing a beat, He sips at his drink, avoids Phil’s determined gaze.

“Are you really going to leave it at that?” Phil asks flatly.

Dan shrugs.

“Dan.” Phil leans closer for a minute, close to exasperated, but then he sits back instead and sighs, “Honestly, if I haven’t managed to show you by now that it’s ok to talk to me, then maybe we’ll just never get there.”

Dan frowns at him. “What, expecting something from me, Lester?”

“No, except for you to get it into your thick skull that I actually care about what happens to you,” Phil says in a moment of bravery. He regrets it as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

Dan draws back for a moment, surprise covering his expression before it shifts into something more wicked. “Oh, you care about me, huh?”

“Shut up.” Phil buries himself behind a cushion. “I’m not looking at you.”

“Sure, avoid the person you care about, that seems like a sensible course of action.”

“I hate you.”

“I didn’t want to be in my flat.”

Phil peers out from behind the cushion, confused. “Huh?”

“Why I was sat outside,” Dan explains, for once not avoiding Phil’s gaze. His dark eyes are steady on Phil’s. “Stayed inside too long, I think. The walls felt like they were closing around me.”

“So go to a coffee shop, or something,” Phil replies after a beat.

“Too many people.”

“Are people that bad?”

“Most people,” Dan agrees with a pointed look at Phil. “Most people are that bad. Not all, though.”

Phil desperately tries to stem the heat flooding the back of his neck. He coughs, but doesn’t twist away as he says, “Well, still doesn’t excuse why you’d feel the need to sit out in the cold.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“Your lips have a blue tinge, Dan.”

“You’re exaggerating.” Dan rolls his eyes. “Besides, forget that, I want to hear more about how you supposedly care about me.”

“Brat.” Phil throws the cushion at Dan and sits up, reaching for his drink, ignoring the way his heart is picking up its pace in his chest. “Thought you’d have figured that out by now.”

“I had an inkling,” Dan admits, looking away. “Wishful thinking, mostly. Therapist says I should be careful and manage my expectations, so.”

“Yeah, well, nothing to manage here.”

“Nothing?”

Phil looks over, meets Dan’s eyes, sees the question on his face. He bites his lip and pulls himself together, pulls himself together because his brother asked him questions all evening and he needs to stop this cycle of Dan Dan Dan somehow and because he doesn’t ever want to find Dan sitting out alone in the cold ever again. “Nothing. I care about you, Dan, ok? I care about you.”

Dan looks over at him, eyes glittering, and Phil braces himself for the witty retort.

What he gets instead is Dan sliding over closer to him, knocking their elbows together affectionately, and murmuring, “Well, good job I care about you too, then, isn’t it?”

Phil almost chokes on his hot chocolate.

---

Dan keeps coming over for their work sessions, which soon devolve into general hang-out sessions and then competitive shouting matches when Dan spots his collection of board games and the Nintendo switch that’s sticking out from under a pile of DVDs by his tv.

Dan is ferociously competitive, and annoyingly good at Mario Kart. It leads to a lot of colourful language late into the night, and Phil is sure that for once he’ll be the one getting noise complaints from his neighbours. He wonders briefly if anyone else ever complained to Dan about the noise from his speakers – although that had calmed down a bit recently. Phil’s sleep had been peacefully uninterrupted for several nights in a row.

Dan swears like a sailor, inventing new curses that Phil is sure would make his grandma’s toes curl, but to Phil it’s almost ridiculously endearing. The way Dan’s hair curls as he flops his head around, throwing his hands in the air when he’s overtaken by some other online player (probably from Japan) and finishes in seconds.

“Fucking ridiculous,” Dan finishes his tirade with a mumble, and then flops directly over so his head lands in Phil’s lap.

Phil freezes for a moment. They’ve slowly grown more tactile as they’ve known each other, but it’s usually Phil initiating touches, scratching at Dan’s arm when he isn’t getting enough attention or affectionately poking at his dimple, which he’d finally found the nerve to do two days ago.

Now, with Dan’s head in his lap, Phil is suddenly unsure what to do. His heart clenches in his chest before picking up speed at a ferocious rate.

“It’s unfaaair,” Dan whines. “I totally had him up until the last mushroom.”

“Yeah, well now you’ve made me finish last,” Phil reprimands half-heartedly, watching as his character zooms in at a sad last place. He places his controller down, and spends half-a-second just watching Dan curled up in his lap.

Then he reaches down and gently curls his fingers in Dan’s hair.

Dan doesn’t react straightaway, so Phil carefully runs his hand through Dan’s hair, watching the curls bounce back into place when he tugs at them. Dan’s hair is softer to touch than it looks.

Dan makes a noise of discontent when Phil pauses, and nudges his head rather determinedly back against Phil’s hand.

Phil makes a soft noise that might have been a coo, and runs his hair through Dan’s fringe.

“It’s probably rigged anyway,” Dan huffs, tossing his (well, Phil’s) controller across the living room. Phil watches it bounce on the carpet with a wince.

“It isn’t,” Phil disagrees mildly, “You’re just bitter that you actually lost for once.”

“Unfairly.”

“What, 29 out of 30 isn’t enough for Mr Perfectionist?”

“No, it isn’t,” Dan sniffs, “And I’m going to continue to be bratty about it. Just to forewarn you.”

Phil snorts. “Sounds like you expect me to keep putting up with your crap.”

“Well,” Dan twists in his lap to look up at him, sending Phil a winning smile, “I had hoped.”

Phil just makes a face back at him, but continues running his fingers through Dan’s hair. They haven’t defined what they are to each other, haven’t done much of anything the past few days really apart from work and play and gripe at each other, same as always. Just, Phil didn’t fight so hard to hide the fond looks he sent Dan’s way, and Dan didn’t hesitate as much to reciprocate them, either.

Glancing down at Dan curled up in his lap, Phil could only describe the feeling in his chest as warm. It tugged at him, almost suffocating, his heartbeat not exactly pounding but racing just enough to make itself known.

When Dan leans so far into his touches that he basically crawls into Phil’s lap, Phil squawks and swats at him. “You’re a bit big for this, Dan.”

“Shush your mouth,” Dan grumbles back, adjusting himself until he’s settled comfortably (and determinedly squashing Phil’s elbow). “I’ll sit where I want.”

“You’re a brat.” Phil tosses his head back against his sofa cushion in defeat. If he’s completely honest with himself, the warm weight of Dan in his lap is not actually entirely unwelcome. He enjoys knowing Dan is right there, enjoys running his fingers through Dan’s soft curls, especially enjoys the way Dan curls up into him so close it’s like he’s pressing himself against Phil in every possible way.

Dan’s still wearing Phil’s coat, and the fluff around the hood keeps tickling Phil’s nose (because Dan really is a bit too big for this) so Phil moves his head back off the sofa rest, grumbling in the back of his throat.

Dan turns to send him a smirk, and then his face is much, much closer than Phil expected.

His heart contracts, and then races faster than before. His breath hitches before he can catch himself, but Dan doesn’t seem to notice, pausing in whatever he was going to say as his gaze catches onto Phil’s.

Dan, precariously balanced in his lap, face just inches away, and Phil’s just… stuck.

Dan nervously licks his lower lip, tongue darting out for barely a second, but it’s enough to catch Phil’s attention and he swallows. Dammit. There goes any chance of playing this cool.

This time, Dan does notice, his gaze flicking up to Phil’s before dropping lower, and then, before Phil can catch his breath, Dan is leaning in.

The first press of his mouth against Phil’s is soft, questioning. Phil answers with a hastily let out breath and the tightening of his hold on the sleeve of Dan’s jumper, steadying him in place as he leans in slowly, eyes falling shut, mouth slowly finding Dan’s.

Dan’s a good kisser. That much is obvious, even as they keep things slow, gentle, and mostly chaste. (Well, mostly. Phil might nip at Dan’s lower lip, and Dan might make a soft noise that has Phil’s thoughts spiralling, but he reigns himself in and keeps things soft and careful, at least for this first time). Dan’s fingers on his chest, clinging at the material of his shirt, the weight of him as he leans into Phil in danger of unseating himself, all remind Phil that this is real, happening now and not just in his head.

He pulls back after a moment, but Dan chases him and whines until he relents and leans back in, pressing another soft kiss to Dan’s lips.

Dan makes a pleased noise and leans in, in danger of actually unbalancing them, so Phil pulls back again and reaches for Dan’s hips.

Dan whines pitifully.

“Shush,” Phil huffs, but there’s a soft fond warmth hiding obviously behind his tone. “Hold still, I’m just making sure you don’t fall off.”

“I’m not going to fall,” Dan scoffs, but he still sits still enough for Phil to adjust them until he’s lying back against the armrest with Dan sprawled across him. Dan rolls his eyes and leans down close, biting his lip and looking Phil in the eyes. “Happy now?”

“So happy,” Phil answers, and tugs Dan back against him.

They kiss until Phil loses track of time, until Dan melts against him completely and the weight should probably be suffocating and is a little bit uncomfortable if he’s honest, his foot went to sleep what feels like hours ago and his neck is sore from the awkward angle, but he wouldn’t move for the world. Not when Dan is warm and making happy little contented sounds with every new press of their lips.

Eventually, they stop kissing and Dan simply tucks his face into Phil’s chest and makes himself comfortable. Phil lets out a low chuckle and winds his arms around Dan, holding him close, allowing himself this moment of warmth. He hasn’t had something go this smoothly in goodness knew how long, hardly dared to expect this one to continue. Something is going to go wrong. Something always does, eventually.

But still, lying here holding Dan, it’s hard to pay attention to any negative thought that might flick through his brain.

Dan shifts after a moment, sitting up slightly. This time it’s Phil that chases after him, making a low noise of discontent and pulling Dan in again.

“Phil,” Dan chuckles, the first time they’ve spoken in too long. He presses his palm flat against Phil’s chest. “It’s getting late, I should – I don’t live here.”

“Well observed,” Phil says, and tugs Dan down to him again.

Dan rolls his eyes, pressing more firmly. “I’ll come back. In the morning. I just – it’s late.”

“You’ll come back?”

“Of course.” Dan’s tone is steady. “As long as I’m welcome.”

Phil sends him a pointed glance, but softens when Dan avoids meeting his eyes. He lets out a soft huff, smiling. “What, do you think I’m gonna kiss you and then kick you out?”

“I mean,” Dan glances at him finally, biting his lip. “I hope not?”

“Of course not, you insecure idiot.” Phil brings him in close again, kisses him softly. “Come back tomorrow. We can – I mean, we could get coffee? Or just. I don’t know.”

Dan snorts. “That’s the worst getting asked out I’ve ever heard.”

“Are you saying no?”

“Well—”

“Are you saying no, Dan.”

“No, of course not.”

“Well then,” Phil says smugly, “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Insufferable prick.” Dan smacks him on the chest before standing up.

Phil gets up too, follows him to the door. Just before Dan goes to step out, Phil catches his hand and pulls him in again. “You’re still wearing my coat.”

“I’ll bring it back tomorrow.” Dan turns to him with a glint in his eye, leans in and kisses him. Phil’s eyes flutter closed, and he chases Dan’s mouth when Dan pulls away again.

“Tomorrow,” Dan laughs, but his words are a promise. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

Phil lets him go with his pulse still racing, but a warm feeling settled in his chest.

That night, the music doesn’t rumble through his walls. Instead, Phil hears the high, clear notes of a piano being played, and he falls asleep with a smile on his face.

---

Phil wakes up the next morning with his heart in his mouth and his nerves all wired. He isn’t one hundred percent sure if everything that happened the night before is even real, or if his mind managed to concoct one hell of a realistic dream. He doesn’t have any proof of it, his phone is silent, there is no trace of Dan on his sofa when he checks.

But then Phil glances at his coat-rack and realises his coat is still missing.

Warmth floods him from head-to-toe. He finds himself biting back a ridiculous smile as he goes to the kitchen and fills up the kettle, reaching for the coffee (and some of Dan’s expensive blend, making it just how Dan likes). He waits for the water to boil with thoughts of warm lips and soft curls.

He has two steaming mugs ready when there is a knock at the door.

Ridiculously, Phil straightens his shirt and pats down his hair before going to answer, despite already checking his outfit three times. Dan had just said tomorrow, not what time, and it’s still morning, early for both of them, but Phil couldn’t be happier that he’s here now. At least, he presumes this will be Dan.

Phil answers the door with his heart in his mouth and his pulse racing, but it calms the instant he sees Dan’s nervous face on the other side.

Dan swallows, shifting, and his hands are behind his back.

Phil tilts his head. “What have you got there?”

“Nothing,” Dan blurts, and then shoves Phil’s coat at him as he strides through the door. “Is one of those for me?”

“Yeah,” Phil answers distractedly, looking up to see Dan headed straight for the coffee mugs. He glances back down at his coat and goes to hang it on the rack when something falls out of it onto the floor.

Phil blinks, looking down at the bundle by his feet. “Flowers?”

“Yeah,” Dan replies, obviously trying his best to sound nonchalant.

Phil bites back a smile as he bends down to scoop them up. “You bought me flowers?”

“Shitty supermarket ones because I had to run out this morning,” Dan says all in a rush, “And normally I’d spend way more, but – well, you kind of surprise me last night.”

Phil huffs out a laugh. “You aren’t the only one.” He turns the bundle over, smiling at the small notecard that simply says from Dan and nothing else. “You bought me flowers.”

“Yeah, well,” Dan mumbles, and when Phil looks over he’s twisting his fingers together nervously. “I figured one of us should do this whole dating thing properly.”

Phil laughs, the sound bright, and he reaches over to drag Dan in and give him a kiss. Dan makes a soft contented noise and Phil is very pleased that he didn’t imagine that happening.

He pulls away after a moment and heads to the kitchen. “Hang on, I think I’ve got a glass big enough to fit them in.”

“That isn’t a glass, it’s a vase,” Dan says flatly when he watches Phil get it out of the cupboard.

“No, it’s a glass.”

“It’s clearly a vase. Why is there a vase in your glass cupboard?”

“Shut up.” Phil sets the flowers on the side after filling the vase (glass) with water. “And you were doing so well with bringing me these.”

Dan pouts in the corner. “Does that mean I don’t get that date?”

Phil rolls his eyes and scoops up his mug. “Drink your coffee and we’ll see.”

Dan makes a show of taking a long gulp.

Phil laughs, but sets his mug down too and reaches for Dan’s hand. “Ok then. Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“I don’t mind,” Phil answers honestly, “As long as it’s with you.”

Dan looks at him, the moment holding for a second, before he snorts. “That was cheesy as fuck.”

“Watch it, you.” Phil entwines their fingers and heads for his coat rack. “Still date pending until we reach the door, so best behaviour.”

“Well.” Dan tightens his grip around Phil’s hand and smiles softly. “Good job I plan on sticking around, then, isn’t it?”

Phil doesn’t answer, but his heart hums happily in response. He’s secretly hoping that Dan sticks around for a long, long while yet.

[ask-svt-hearteu]

neighbor! Minghao

https://ask-svt-hearteu.tumblr.com/post/162640470571/masterlistAdmin note: These imagines might become a fanfic series featuring the reader X a member of seventeen if enough people take an interest!

somehow I see a display of nunchucks and a katana his fireplace mantle?

for scientific reasons only cough

somehow it fits into the aesthetics of his house though?

the coat closet houses skateboards and hats, “what else is that closet for?”

has a surprising collection of wine glasses and red a variety of red wines

cabinets have a dark earthy brown color, kind of a vintage countertop, but modern look overall

renovated either a room or the whole basement into a dance studio

goes skateboarding early in the morning

invites people over for lunch often

isn’t really a neighborhood watch kind of guy or welcoming committee person

but your doorbell rings and you open the door and there’s a bouquet of flowers and the sound of a skateboard fleeing the scene

has enough pillows on the couch to drown a man

the one with an intricate stone pathway in their backyard with lots of vines and interesting plants and a bench so he can sit on it and enjoy the beautiful green canopy of his private rain forest

parkours over all the garbage cans on garbage day and never knocks even a single one over

hosts video game nights, like just dance so y'all can dab at the wrong parts, and overwatch, or LOL

the one crazy enough to buy tiki torches because Jun dared him and nearly set Jeonghan’s cat on fire smh

plays jazz in his house, you can hear the sax solo every Tuesday night

goes “camping” in his driveway with Mingyu, Seokmin, and other 97 liners

pranks by the 97 line

ding dong ditches your house only to run by a few minutes later, excessively dabbing

except Seungcheol scolds them

so they apologize to everyone and bakes everyone cake instead

teaches the kids how to dance/ bboy and how to skate

imagine that cute grin on his face while doing so

leads adventures to defeat the Jun dragon for all the gold hidden (chocolate coins)

wears sunglasses indoors

“Minghao it’s 8pm, can you even see out of those?”

“nope”

broken cat doors and fences are magically fixed overnight with a little note saying, “97 line was here, your payment will be one dab”

flips water bottles onto the roof until they get stuck

and needs to borrow a ladder to retrieve them

but not Seungcheol’s oh no

“should we ask Seungcheol hyung…”

Minghao stares while Mingyu excessively shakes his head

yeah they don’t want to go through that time again

now if someone where to peek outside their door,

they’d see three adults wearing all black creeping down the hallway as if they were in a spy movie

until they reach Minghao’s place where the original plan was to play games until the morning and figure it out then

but then they see “suspicious” boxes stacked outside Minghao’s door

except now it wasn’t just out his door

because right across from him the used to be empty place’s door was being held open by those boxes

but they also saw a ladder being slower pushed into the doorway

“HEY MINGHAO! your new neighbor has one!!! go ask them!”

getting prodded forward, he gets a look at you

who was lifting one side of the ladder struggling

bending down, he picks it up

and you knew you didn’t just get super human strength so you glance up

flipping his hair naturally, Minghao puts on an embarrassed smile

“Hey I️ live across from you, welcome to the area!”

“Thank you!” you say brightly, then nod towards his hands hold the ladder,

“and thank you”

“it’s no problem” putting on that embarrassed smile again, he chuckles nervously

“actually, me and my friends would like to use it right now?”

“Oh!” your eyes widen in surprise

you laugh slightly, smiling

“go ahead”

“thanks!”

and with barely any effort at all, he takes the ladder by himself,

flashing you a small smile before maneuvering his way out your doorway and down the hall

you feel a little weak at the knees

and while you excuse it to the amount of lifting you’ve done

you know a small portion is because of your neighbors most adorable smile

and then there’s Minghao,

letting out a little giggle to himself

because damn his neighbor is cute

“what’s that smile for???” Mingyu raises an eyebrow at his different face

“what? nothing” Minghao shrugs casually

squinting at his face, Seokmin claps

“Ah! Were they a she? a pretty she?”

the both wiggle their eyebrows at Minghao

“Aye why do looks matter?”

walking past them carrying the ladder,

almost hitting them, not on purpose at all

he avoids the question well

so it somehow became who could chug the most

*but she was cute’ he thinks, smiling softly to himself

they manage to take hours getting the many many water bottles of the roof

“what a waste of water” Seokmin sighs, balancing a bottle on his arm

this is where you see three crazy guys on the roof fighting for water bottles

“I️ SAW THAT FIRST!”

“well your gonna have to run for it” 

ever seen grown men running carefully and dramatically 

its hilarious 

what should’ve taken 10 minutes turned into a whole two hours 

already night time and sneaking down from the roof

and crowded inside Minghao’s place playing FIFA

“what are you gonna do about the ladder over there” Mingyu calls from the kitchen making snacks of course

“i’ll bring it over tomorrow morning” 

“you should bring her food too! as a welcome!!” Seokmin nudges Minghao wiggling his brows

making him shove back, trying to concentrate on the game

“YES! i’ll start making food!!” Mingyu claps excitedly

‘oh lord, this is going to be a mess’ 

and that’s how he ends up at your door, a basket of food in his hands stacked almost up to his chin

you swing open the door, your breakfast sandwich in hand, still in your PJ’s, hair up into a bun 

“AH” you yelp, swinging the door close on reflex

and then opening it again cringing at the way you look

Minghao glances at the corner of your lips,

where a bread crumb lays

“your neighbor, remember me?” 

“yes the c-” you smile pausing, still flustered, “the guy borrowing the ladder” 

“i see you have it” you laugh slightly motioning to the ladder behind him

“and with a welcome gift” 

and grabbing the basket from him, you walk inside, letting him set the ladder down in your living room

“i would invite you to stay but…” 

he nods, “you just moved in, your busy i get it” 

Minghao smiles backtracking out the door

“i’m right across from you if you need anything” 

closing your door, you lean back against the wall, 

“oh my god i’m a mess” you whisper to yourself 

and smirking, opening the door just down the hall from yours, 

he shakes his head at himself

‘nevermind, i’m a mess,’ 

taking a breathe, and grabbing his skateboard, he laughs

“well, she’s adorable” 

you, are well, going about your moving in process, 

occasionally letting the cute neighbor run though your mind

who, oh my god, you guys don’t even know each other’s names

taking a break from your many boxes, your run to the nearest convenience store to find dinner 

only to find it particularly crowded in the ramyeon section 

your eyes wonder to your neighbor, surprisingly

and your reaction is to blast your way outta there

until you guys make eye contact

making Minghao not very subtly leaving his group

“finding dinner?” he asks, tucking his hand into his pockets 

“just getting some necessities, like instant noodles” 

he chuckles, agreeing

sticking out your hand, “i realized we never introduced ourselves, it’s y/n” 

he shakes your hand, “Minghao” 

“well we’re kind of past the introducing stage aren’t we” he jokes

referring to your appearance this morning, or the ladder, or both 

either way, your cheeks heat up 

it feels sudden to you, but he hands you his phone

“let’s exchange numbers, i can help you with your boxes,” he smirks, “or show you around” 

“oh?” you, catch on to what he might be insinuating 

though your heartbeat makes you want to tell yourself not to read into it

“did you ask her out ye-” Seokmin comes out of no where swinging his arm around Minghao 

who elbows him into his stomach a little too late

nevermind, your definitely reading into it

smiling meaningfully at him,

“i’ll stop bothering you guys then”  you say spinning around

“you-” 

“call me!” you say without turning 

Minghao nods, smiling

“how does it feel to be cut off huh” Seokmin huffs, grinning

“how can you smile like that as if we aren’t here huh” Mingyu teases 

“quit” Minghao glares jokingly 

not stopping the rest of the guys from getting on his case though, 

“so when are we gonna hear the story of how they met” Seungcheol smirks 

“uhhh” 

the three of them say in sync

“gotta blast” 

the three of them take their food as Minghao skates away with the other three running behind him 

you happen to catch a glance at the three whiling checking out 

and laugh, covering your mouth, eyes following them out

‘that’ll be a good conversation for next time’ 

MASTERLIST

[lockdownuk]

Lockdown Diary Part 11

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 301: Up at 1pm after a good few bevvies last night. usual Saturday stuff but my walk was astop/start affair due to yet more flooding. 

Facebook today informed me that Karen Wyles died suddenly. It really shocked me. I saw Guy and Gail while out walking (nice to bump into them and chat) and they told me it was a heart attack! I sent K a WhatsApp just in case she’d not heard. I put a few words on FB. I had known Karen for a long time and, while I took the piss a lot, she was a friend (that I often didn’t deserve) and a good person....I felt a responsibility to say something nice as a small homage.

During the week I ordered new boots (since my Merrells are fucked after only  few months but I am getting my money back) and, today, I also ordered McKenzie Attwood trainers (£20 cheap as fuck from JD Sports sale), slippers and jogging bottoms from Amazon. 

Now I am going to have pizza, drink, smoke and watch The Equalizer 2 (for the umpteenth time - I watched the first one last night). I could watch Tenet - Miles has given me his Amazon login details, which is pretty fucking cool of him, but I’m not in the mood.

Posh beat MK 3-0 at home. I fucking love beating them. It’s extremely satisfying.

Right, it’s Saturday, it’s nearly 9pm, time I got on it.

Day 302: Not the most mental night last night but still 4am-ish when I went to bed, so I am very pleased to type that I was up before my alarm this morning. But, also, as I type, at gone 10pm, I am fucking knackered. Just about to tuck into spicy-as-fuck sauasage casserole, wtach MotD2 and then bed!

Day 303: Slippers arrived today but they’re going back. Too tight in the left foot. I’m not wearing slippers in FFS!

Day 304: New trainers (McKenzie Attwoods) arrived. Now, this footwear I shall keep. £20, bargain.

Posh came from a goal down to beat Charlton at home 2-1. Nice.

I made some veg soup today and, quite frankly, it’s fucking stupidly chilli-fied. Barely edible.

Day 305: New trainers are sweet - wore them for my morning exercise routine. Pretty comfy - after a few wears, they’ll be ace, I think.

Got served notice on the house on Monday (why I didn’t enter that on day 303, I do not know). Lynda, from Woodfords, says a semi-detached place in Havelock Cottages is coming up that looks promising. I contacted Emily at Aspire today, there’s a two bed terrace in Basset Place coming up so i am looking at that on Monday. Choice of 2 I do hope! First is £700 pm, second £725.

Day 306: Flipping frustrating “nothing works” day at work, It’s been like it all year so far. Tbf, Sueanne gets it and is quite supportive, even though she dives in when I’ve been dealing with problems that drag on! It’s Thursday, I can’t wait for tomorrow and, I am all to aware, I am wishing what little life I have left away.

Spoke with dad, he had his first vaccination jab on Tuesday in Spalding - he said it was a very efficient process (he was full of praise) and that the jab itself was no bother, with no after effects apart from a slightly sore arm. Excellent!

Day 307: Not even one beer (Saporro) in, and I feel wasted. A toke has helped.

Day 308: New Scarpa boots arrived today and, while they will need some wearing in, I did the stair climb and a 45min walk in them. I think they are going to be ace. Just as well as the Merrells are falling apart.

I have decided to listen to the Rush back catalogue, 2112 (4th) is playing as I type. It’s been a trip down memory lane and a bloody good one!

I had a few beers last night, as yesterday’s entry confirms, which included a video catch up with Fog, Ham and Andy P. Gonna chat with Fog later tonight as well.

I watched King of Statten Island last night. I liked it but, in some parts, it was smultzy as hell, rendering it a 6/10. Later, I’m watching Outside the Wire and eating pizza. Can’t wait!

I reset my mobile yesterday ‘cos it’s been playing up. What a fucking ball ache, logging on to all the different apps, all the little settings you get so used to, only to miss them when set back to defaults. Things like the camera settings - photo size and watermark....ooooh, just realised, ‘first world problems’! Get a grip, Tim!

Day 309: SNOW! Thick and crisp and uneven. I walked 11.9km in it today and it fucking well knackered me out. The old Merrells held their own in the snow as well, totally waterproof and, for such a light boot, remarkably warm. I will actually be sorry to see them go.

Danny sent me a link to a free week’s worth of receipes from Hello Fresh (he’s nuts for it) so I and ordered one, worth nearly £40! 

Posh won away from home yesterday at Ipswich. Now, get this: the stats on the BBC’s report showed Posh had no shots on target but still won 0-1. How, might one ask? Own goal, that’s how. Piss funny!

Day 310: I am aching today. Walking in the snow yesterday certainly exercised different muscles than walking in mud. And, today, I walked less than normal, usual lunchtime but only 4km (instead of 8) in the evening. 

‘Cos of the snow, the woman from Aspire cried off showing me around 3 Bassett Place. At first I was well pissed off but, looking at the roads and traffic situation around Oundle, it was the right decision (she’d have had to get here from Nassington - a bit treacherous),

It’s just gone 8pm. I am going to eat and go to bed. It’s too fucking cold even with the heating on!

Day 311: Rearranged the viewing of Bassett Place tomorrow - I rang them ‘cos I saw it advertised on Facebook, FFS! My walk tonight was mad...melting snow, rain/sleet, ice made for fucking hard work. Plus, since I am wearing in the new Scarpas, I wore the Merrells. The right boot is now, most definitely not waterproof! Got home about 8pm, changed bed sheets, showered and made diner...bloody knackered. It’s now 11pm and I am off to beddy byes.

Day 312: Viewed Bassett Place and I really like it. It is advertised at £750pm but Emily (from Aspire) said it was £725. Sarah, who showed me round said there may be some leeway for the right tenant so i’ve asked if it could be done for £700. If so, I’ll take it. It’s a large two bed mid terrace, bigger than here (36, East Road), similar type place, just what I want. Fingers crossed.

Day 313: Having slept on it, I do believe I definitely want 3 Bassett Place. I phone Sarah at Apsire to say as much. She told me she’d forwarded my details and offer to the landlord and is waiting to hear. As yesterday, fingers crossed.

I couldn’t take the pic of the field for the Morning Walk album, too flooded due to melting snow. On that note, my new boots are getting worn in both by wear and by superficial looks, it’s that filthy out there. I need to clean them. I wonder that, if I’d cleaned the Merrells, they might have lasted a bit longer. That being said, no amount of cleaning would have save the soles from wearing as thin as quickly as they did.

Day 314: Typing on Day 315. I didn’t get Bassett Place, the landlord gave it to a couple who offerred full asking price. To say I was fucked off is an understatement. I phoned Emily to let her know as much. Tbf, she explained that the snow (delaying my original viewing) wasn’t her fault and that she is at the mercy of the landlord. Fair enough, when I heard her POV. But, I am still gutted. I should have gone for the full £750!

Glad the working week is over (I am really wishing my life away so far this year).

Long walk to Cotterstock - amazing light behind the clouds with a wolf moon (which I just looked up - full moon, basically) - I just wish I was a bit better at night photography, or at least the camera on the Mi9 was. However, once I tweak them a bit and post them, the feed back is usually good. In fact, I posted one on the move last night and someone on FB has asked if they can paint it!

Meatballs for tea and beers.

I have decided, when the year of this log is up, that I’ll end it (the diary, not my life, though that dark thought is never far away!). I have reached this decision because, while this diary is really only for me, it is as boring as fuck, really. I’ll continue to write a log but randomly, when the day’s events warrant it. It’ll be on the main Tumblr.

Day 315: Typing this on day 316. Up at 1pm-ish. Morning exercise routine, long walk curtailed by flooding (again!) more beers, smokes and trash food. Posh lost 2-0 away to Shrewsbury (a bit of a bogey team).

Day 316: Up at 1pm yet again. I really didn't feel like any exercise but I did the usual regardless. Google Fit isn’t fucking working!

I have got to start stopping these ridiculously late Friday and Saturday nights. My weekend is over before it’s begun. This coming Friday, I am not going to do the really long walk in the evening that i have become accustomed to - just a 8km one that I do most evening, and then start drinking earlier so as to go to bed early. If I can get out of bed in the Saturday morning, perhaps do a couple of long walks so as to get the weekly steps up.

Day 317: My left foot, during my lunchtime walk, killed. I must have sopped and undone & redone my laces 6 times. Dunno wtf is going on with the Scarpas. I wore my Merrells for the evening walk. I tried to got to Cotterstock but it was too flooded on the road just before the bridge!

Ordered new joggers, a boot brush and some new wireless earbuds (Mifo 05 plus Gen 2 - bought them off eBay -I hope they are the real deal, it’s the very latest spec and £74.99 instead of £89.99 from the Mifo website).

Day 318: I went shopping at 10.15pm mainly for pizza and party food since I have booked Monday off because it’s the Superbowl (Tampa vs Kansas) and booze! No fucking Sapporo. It was eerie shopping that late at the superstore in Corby. Boots still hurting (Merrells in the evening). Day 319: New ear buds arrived. Well impressed. So did the boot brush (BootBuddy) - on that note, boots weren’t so bad at lunchtime. I didn’t wear them in the evening but I think it’s just a ‘wearing them in’ thing, hopefully.

Day 320: Hello Fresh delivery day. I had pork and chipotle black bean tacos with pickled red onion, chipotle tomatoes and lettuce. It’s a good set up, decent ingredients and nice recipe sheets...but I don't need it, I’m good enough in the kitchen. And, I am no fan of minced pork. I am not being a fair judge though. Today, my sugars have been all over the place over 21 and under 2 mmol/L. I nearly fell asleep trying to recover from a low before my evening walk. When I got back (soaked - it was pissing down), I was over 21 by the time I had cooked it all....puts me off actually eating, even though I have to! Rang Barry Haddon today, to see how he is. I think he’s OK but, strangely, told me, during conversation, that he’s 77 years old. I don't think so! I also texted Posh Dave. I think he’s struggling being on his own (he lost mum and dad last year, I think). I must make more contact with him. I might call him over the weekend.

Day 321: Typing on Day 322 (well, 1am on day 323 actually). It was nice finishing work knowing I have Monday off. I also din’t do an extra long walk this evening as with most Fridays. Cooked the send Hello fresk meal, Mango chicken tacos -diced chicken thighs - it was alright. Rog video called so had a good chat with him and I invited Foggy to it (he was at his cousin John’s funeral today), so the three of us chewed the cud for a bit. I then went onto get fucking shitfaced. I couldn’t make it to bed with low sugars, lying on the runner rug, fell asleep, got up and could only make it top the living room rug..I felt so dodgy but I was too fucked and too full to even take more than a swig of coke. I think I’m going to fall asleep one drunken night, slip into a coma and then die. I can think of worse ways to go. Day 322: Typing  very late, it’s actually Sunday morning, 1.07am. I got out of bed at gone 2.30pm today. I managed my morning routine and a 8km walk (in the Scarpas, they are getting more comfortable since my episode of pain a few days ago; definitely a wearing in process). No booze after last night’s debacle. I am going to hit it during the Superbowl tomorrow though. The Hello fresh meal tonight was pasta chicken bake with pepper and courgette. Fucking lovely and I coudln’t eat it all. I’ve lerant that adding creme fresh to pasta, whacking it on top of meat and sauce on a casserole bowl and baking it for 15 minutes is the way to go. I watched The Dig tonight. It’s a good film but fucking glum. Posh won at home to Crewe today, 2-0. They are now 4th. Day 323:Bright as a button today, up at around 11:00am despite switch in the bedroom light off at just before 3am. Today’s walk was fucking hard work. It’s wintry, the wind was keen, strong and full of icy particles just not quite sleet. The fields between Park Wood and Monson Way were bloody tough. One wrong foot and you’d slip over. I did about 10 km; it took over 2 hours and felt like twice the distance.  I’ve just eaten Hello Fresk teryaki mince. It was good. One beer in, a film (probably One Night in Miami) and then Superbowl time. Day 324: The Superbowl was good. Tampa beat Kansas 31-9. The second half was a damp squib since Kansas never made a go of it. Tom Brady won his 7th ring. He is to American football what Federer is to tennis. The Weeknd half time show was excellent. So, it was about 4am I went to bed, nicely pissed. Up at just after 1pm. Exercise, omelette, long walk, done some washing. About to make the last Hello Fresh meal and watch One Night in Miami which I didn’t manage last night.   Richard sent me a message (screen shot of a) house up for shared ownership in Oundle (Sharmann & Quinney) - I need to look into what that is all about.

Day 325: Shared ownership isn’t straightforward and, actually, I have discovered that I need to look at something call ‘older persons shared ownership’ when I hit 55. Jon at work wants me to get involved in two additional pieces of work, he told me at the SUMO today (Sueanne is off) - he did say that “that’s what happens if you have a day off! Finished the last of the Hello Fresh (last night’s sausage bolognese including homemade garlic bread using a Tiger loaf from Co-Op which was reduced to 28p. I didn’t watch One Night in Miami last night. Shock. Day 326: I spoke with Lynda from Woodfords yesterday, viewing 13 Havelock Cottages tomorrow. Also, yesterday, Posh beat Ipswich 2-1 at home. They came from behind. Ipswich have never beaten Posh away. Simon Banwell posted on FB berating some new legislation whereby potentially people who travel and lie about it (the destination) are liable for 10 years in prison. His gripe is people get less for murder. I am beyond words...the potential for mass deaths of such actions! I tried to argue that case but it is, as always on social media, flogging a dead horse. Rachel Harris jumped on Simon’s bandwagon whereas Tim Francis posted a ‘well said’ to me (I think it’s genuine). Day 327: Carrying on directly from above; Candice Bellingsea, Rachel’s niece, Carla’s daughter, was also ‘vocal’ in defence of Simon’s post, joining in with the clamour for relaxation of lockdown (at the expense of safety) - citing more people commit suicide because of the mental pressure than die of covid. Well, today, I investigated and posted a FB status to poo-poo such claims. It felt good (and right) to address Candice’s ridiculous post albeit, I didn’t call her out directly but did have part of her comment on Simon’s post directly quoted in my status. I went to see 13 Havelock today. It’s OK. Not perfect but more than alright. When I left there I was very much in two minds but now, at 10:30pm, the place is growing on me. Still part of me thinks to hold out - I have got around 5 month’s notice left - but, if I let it go (and Lynda from Woodford’s has already said the landlord is happy for me to move in), I might regret it. I keep thinking of 3 Bassett Place though...if only I had said yes to £750 straightaway. That place would be perfect, I reckon. One major concern with 13 is the neighbours. There’s no way I could have my usual Friday and Saturday night revelry. But...I’ll sleep on it. I have only just finished doing some work - pissing about with Smartview Essbase (with Simon Welch’s help - he’s a bloody good bloke - no need to be so helpful, but he’s more than happy to be) - I sent him a Teams message to arrange a catch up tomorrow with some questions I have regarding the installation - he only bloody answered - working as late as I am! I have managed to watch some of One Night in Miami. Going to finish it now with a dirty, microwave hamburger for tea.

Day 328: Typing on day 329. Usual Friday but not so mad in the evening. One Night in Miami was good. For Friday’s viewing I chose Greenland. Not so good. Only 4 beers and two spliffs. I’m getting old! Day329: Up at 1pm, usual exercise including a long old walk. It included walking along the river (Oundle Mill bridge to the marina) for the fist time this year. The floods are in evidence but, obviously, receded enough to get through - that, or the resulting water, mud and boginess is frozen. I really enjoyed it today but it was freezing - the wind was evil at certain points. Tea’s on the go, beer in hand and I am going to watch War Dogs.  Posh’s game was off today due to a frozen pitch. Day 330: Typing on day 331. It wasn’t a mad Saturday night but mad enough to not be up until gone midday. Another nice long walk, Walk and eat is all I really do nowadays. I can’t even muster any enthusiasm to do housework since I am going to be out of here soon. I called Posh Dave in the evening. It was good to chat and I think he appreciated the call. He’s on his own and struggling, I get the impression. He told me both Matt Baxter (bowel) and Adi Mowles (neck) are undergoing treatment for cancer.

[thedivinefish]

TGIWednesday and party like it's MY birthday

TGIWednesday News

Today is my birthday and yes, this is how I feel as my g'daughter Charlie represents another year has come and gone!  Where does it go?  I have a movie star client that always says, “The days are long but the years fly by!”  The ultimate lessons that I have learned over time are as my sweet momma always said, “I don’t do rush.” So slow it down a bit and don’t hurry up into anything or anyone!  Know that I appreciate you and every birthday. I am now making every effort to receive personal self-care, whether it’s a haircut/massage/reading or other.  And with all of my birthdays I like to treat others...  

So here you go in celebration of my birthday on August 19th we have activated a Special 19% off Discount on ALL Audio MP3 and eBooks in the shop for the next 19 hours!  You'll see the price adjustment after you Add To Cart and begin Checkout.  This deal will be gone in a FLASH so don't delay!  Go here now and have fun shopping!  (*sessions/prayers zoom videos and certification are NOT included - time runs out at 6pm ET/ 3pm PT on Thursday the 20th) Make it fun today and every day and know that I appreciate you and I plan on having my version of fun too!

Get Jimmy's Bday19 Discount Here!

TGIWednesday Download

~ CLEARING YOUR DAY AND EVERY DAY ~ I believe, think, know and feel that my day today is Clear. I know, when, where, how and why to release my day today from unclear.  I am ready, willing and able to have everything today in this very day, running forward with grace and ease and I am asking in all time lines and languages and so it is.

Fish Food 

The Daily Bread To Feed The Fish

AUGUST 19th- HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! Birthday Greetings from my Inbox: "Jimmy, Happy Birthday, listen my tooth is really bothering me and I have another dentist appointment tomorrow but I am hoping to get with you today to get rid of this pain and anxiety, so get me in on your first available, K?. "Happy Birthday, do you think my resumé is being received because the recruiters act skittish and I am wondering if it’s just me or the whole state of Florida? Can we schedule? "Jimmy, Happy Birthday my dear friend, I hope you are having a blast and I know that traditionally you don’t schedule clients on your birthday, but I am hoping you will make an exception for me because I just got back from the doctor, hit me back. "Jimmy, Happy Birthday, I forgot that you are a fellow Leo like me, listen, I cannot find my car keys anywhere.....Thoughts? Hints? Impressions? "Happy Birthday buddy, I know you’re not working today but my anxiety and loneliness is at a new level, honestly we have to get together ASAP anything available noonish today? Call, text or email asap. "Jimmy, I know that you’ve been working on me for attracting more women and I REALLY want to get with this new girl. I don’t think I told you that I found out her husband’s name is the same as mine and now she’s acting all cold towards me. Do you think that all the attractive good mojo stuff you’ve been sending my way went to the wrong Phillip? I know it’s like midnight but call me ASAP." Daily Affirmation: "Today I will remember that we have choices. That "No" can be a one word sentence. That other people are generally self-absorbed and that I can make the choice to buy into that as a belief and or as much as a choice that they have made. Today I will choose peace and quiet."   

From the Fish Box

"Good morning Jimmy, When I woke up early this morning my cat still hadn't come home. So I got dressed and went to go look for her. After 45-min and feeling into where she was, I stood at a spot quietly calling (as it still was really early) and suddenly she started meowing from somewhere and found her way to me. After a bit of saying hello, she led the way home. So, she's back and I'm happy ;) Thanks for the session and assistance yesterday. It helped a lot!" - Nicky

From Jimmy: Some of you may have read on Facebook that MY sweet black male cat "Kitty" has been missing for over a week.  If you can offer your prayers for his safe and quick return, we sure could use them!  🙏  It would be the best birthday present ever!!

Monthly LIVE Zoom Event

Next MySwitchWorks Live Zoom Event Wednesday August 26th 7:30-8pm ET August: Themes of Loss

Have you recently suffered a loss of work, a loved one in spirit, lost innocence, lost health, lost youth and vitality?

Let’s have this one be about what you feel you’ve lost and what you’d like to reclaim!  Gainful employment, peace, restored zest for life etc...  Send in your Top 3 to support@jimmymackhealing.com (please do not reply to the confirmation email)

Register Here for August - $22

LIVE Appearances - Free Healing

Thursday Sept. 23rd - The Global Gathering

with host Dipal Shah. The Gathering is an online spiritual event in which multiple healers, lightworkers, catalysts and spiritual teachers come together as ONE to support humanity by anchoring love, light, joy, wellness and optimism.    Join Us and Watch Online!   

The Jimmy Mack Healing Show

NEW VIDEO FORMAT! WATCH IT LIVE  TUESDAY'S at 4pm EDT / 1pm PDT Watch and Participate (via Comments) during the Live TV Show streamed on Goldylocks Productions YouTube Channel, Facebook Page and Periscope.   NOTE: You will need to log into your YouTube (Google) or Facebook accounts to comment. If you watch the Live show from any other location other than the 3 listed below, your comments will not be seen by the Show Host or Producer. https://www.facebook.com/GoldylocksProductions https://www.pscp.tv/Goldylocks168/follow Or watch all live and replays in the archives here: https://thejimmymackhealingshow.com/

Instructions for the VIEWERS: 1.    One reading/message per person. The first question posted will be answered, so please think about your question carefully before posting it.  2.    If you want a longer and more detailed message, please book an appointment with the Show Host.  3.    Spirit does come through and gives messages that can apply to many, not just the person asking the question. 4.    It is not required nor should be expected that every question or comment will be addressed by the Show Host. 5.    If you have any issues with the show host or show format, please contact the Show Producer... not the Show Host. 6.    Contact the Show Producer, Rev. Tiffany White Sage Woman via email: goldylocksproductions@hotmail.com Yesterday's Show - Watch the replay here! Special Guest Jeremy Riden  Divine Spark Ministries https://www.facebook.com/JeremyRiden/  UPCOMING GUESTS:

August 25th Rev Debbie | Our resident trans medium communications with your loved ones in spirit. Visit her Facebook page September 1st Psychic Joanne Leo | Numerology/astrology/angel cards reading from the heart www.psychicjoanneleo.com   September 8th Jeremy Riden | Cards and intuitive readings https://divinesparkministries.com/about-jeremy-riden   September 15th  Gosia Lorenz| Clearing negative entities and intuitive readings www.gosialorenz.com   September 22nd Ayla Murray | Tarot/Angel Cards and intuitive readings https://www.facebook.com/harmonicperspective/   September 29th Rev Debbie | Our resident trans medium communications with your loved ones in spirit. Visit her Facebook page  

Receive 24/7 Prayers from Jimmy

Nightly prayers include COVID-19. Each night we work on scrambling the frequency for everyone on the prayer list. Your name will be added to a special VIP Prayer list where Jimmy will use his intelligent computer software, src4you which runs 24/7, to delete the negative and increase the strength of the positive creating a higher probability of favorable outcomes for you.  

In addition, throughout the full 30-days, Jimmy will be dialing into your energetic signature each day upon rising and make certain that you are a clear yes, unclear to no and running forward before you start your day. He is doing the heavy lifting for you around 3am NY time while most of you are asleep in order to smooth out your way and increase your most favorable life outcomes.

The 30-day service is now being offered exclusively  and you also have the option of selecting an ongoing subscription ($95/month) which is managed through PayPal only.

Upon written email request, for each new order we offer a one-time email analysis via the intelligent healing software that Jimmy uses on your behalf.  Most clients have had amazing results and outcomes!

You can add yourself and those living in your immediate household and yes you can include pets! Merely include everyone’s names and Jimmy will add them to his daily prayers. *NOTE if the MDP Service was purchased via a special telesummit or radio show offer, prayers will be limited to BUYER ONLY - and will not include family members or pets.

You can run this monthly and stop at any time after the 30 days is up, you will have the opportunity to renew and update your list each month but are under no obligation. I believe you will experience magical transformations and make progress every day! 

Sign Up for 30-Days - $99

 Tampa Office Sessions

FRIDAY KODAWARI YOGA STUDIOS 

Friday sessions are back to being phone-only for folks that I usually see at Kodawari until further notice. You can book time with me in the shop and schedule online.   3965 Henderson Blvd Suite C Tampa ☎️ (813) 999-1874 http://www.kodawariyoga.com/

Go deep sea "fishing" with Jimmy!

Level 1 is open to ANYONE at anytime! Click here to watch the Mastery video playlist

The Certificate of Mastery Program includes 2 best-selling ebooks and 2 clearing audios plus written & video instructions, AND one-on-one time with Jimmy ALL for about the cost of a single 1-hr session! This online course is for anyone who is familiar with OR new to "fishing" and is ready to dive into the deep end & get results that are beyond the ordinary! It includes The Tackle Box & The Dowser's Handbook ebooks PLUS 2 MP3s "Clearing Dark Energies" & "Increasing Your Intuition" to help clear, strengthen and prepare your energy field for optimal “fishing” results. This is a work-at-your-own-pace curriculum that will TEACH & CLEAR you at the same time! In under 2wks you will be finished with the program and ready to fish on your own with greater results! Level II offers Practitioner Certification for those who qualify.

LEARN MORE HERE

**Can't See The Full Email? Click Here to View Online**

For those who aren't familiar, here's the list of the MyBeliefWorks™ audio library. 

Find a topic that addresses your issue(s), click on the link to read more. We had a lot of help downloading & channeling these over the years & they keep getting better. Don't forget... you can share these with you immediate friends and family.

Abundance Abuse Addiction Body Scan: Head to Toe COVID-19 Daily GPS Reset Dark Energies/Fears Decision Making Diet & Exercise Education & Learning Family & Relatives The Gold Coin Healing Physical Body Healing Mental Stress Holiday Stress

Increasing Intuition IRS & Tax Time Love & Romance Money Mindset Moving Forward Pain Relief Pet Healing Sales & Success Improving Sex Improving Sleep Traveling w/Ease Work & Career Weight Loss Windfall Youth & Vitality

TGIFunny

Share

Tweet

Forward

Pinterest

Jimmy Mack | Appointments Skype: Jimmy.Mack55 Clearwater Florida USA Book a 15 minute session Book a 30 minute session Book a 60 minute session ​​​ Transformational Healing of Body, Mind​ & Spirit, People, Places, Pets & Situations!​ ​ Download the My Liquid Fish® Starter Kit (*Updated May 2019) Audio MP3 Downloads​ and books​ to improve your life! Get Certified in ​My Liquid Fish® Change Made Simple® Watch Free Videos on YouTube Weekly Radio Show Archives Shop for ​Supplements ​ http://www.jimmymackhealingshop.com www.jimmymackhealing.com Copyright ©1998-2020 All Rights Reserved  

-------------------------------------------------- TGIW newsletter managed by: Sandy Bidinger Digital Marketing Specialist at SMBeConnected Solutions www.smbeconnected.com  

Stay connected!

  Our mailing address is: Clearwater Florida 33756 USA

[divinefishingtips]

TGIWednesday and party like it's MY birthday

TGIWednesday News

Today is my birthday and yes, this is how I feel as my g'daughter Charlie represents another year has come and gone!  Where does it go?  I have a movie star client that always says, “The days are long but the years fly by!”  The ultimate lessons that I have learned over time are as my sweet momma always said, “I don’t do rush.” So slow it down a bit and don’t hurry up into anything or anyone!  Know that I appreciate you and every birthday. I am now making every effort to receive personal self-care, whether it’s a haircut/massage/reading or other.  And with all of my birthdays I like to treat others...  

So here you go in celebration of my birthday on August 19th we have activated a Special 19% off Discount on ALL Audio MP3 and eBooks in the shop for the next 19 hours!  You'll see the price adjustment after you Add To Cart and begin Checkout.  This deal will be gone in a FLASH so don't delay!  Go here now and have fun shopping!  (*sessions/prayers zoom videos and certification are NOT included - time runs out at 6pm ET/ 3pm PT on Thursday the 20th) Make it fun today and every day and know that I appreciate you and I plan on having my version of fun too!

Get Jimmy's Bday19 Discount Here!

TGIWednesday Download

~ CLEARING YOUR DAY AND EVERY DAY ~ I believe, think, know and feel that my day today is Clear. I know, when, where, how and why to release my day today from unclear.  I am ready, willing and able to have everything today in this very day, running forward with grace and ease and I am asking in all time lines and languages and so it is.

Fish Food 

The Daily Bread To Feed The Fish

AUGUST 19th- HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! Birthday Greetings from my Inbox: "Jimmy, Happy Birthday, listen my tooth is really bothering me and I have another dentist appointment tomorrow but I am hoping to get with you today to get rid of this pain and anxiety, so get me in on your first available, K?. "Happy Birthday, do you think my resumé is being received because the recruiters act skittish and I am wondering if it’s just me or the whole state of Florida? Can we schedule? "Jimmy, Happy Birthday my dear friend, I hope you are having a blast and I know that traditionally you don’t schedule clients on your birthday, but I am hoping you will make an exception for me because I just got back from the doctor, hit me back. "Jimmy, Happy Birthday, I forgot that you are a fellow Leo like me, listen, I cannot find my car keys anywhere.....Thoughts? Hints? Impressions? "Happy Birthday buddy, I know you’re not working today but my anxiety and loneliness is at a new level, honestly we have to get together ASAP anything available noonish today? Call, text or email asap. "Jimmy, I know that you’ve been working on me for attracting more women and I REALLY want to get with this new girl. I don’t think I told you that I found out her husband’s name is the same as mine and now she’s acting all cold towards me. Do you think that all the attractive good mojo stuff you’ve been sending my way went to the wrong Phillip? I know it’s like midnight but call me ASAP." Daily Affirmation: "Today I will remember that we have choices. That "No" can be a one word sentence. That other people are generally self-absorbed and that I can make the choice to buy into that as a belief and or as much as a choice that they have made. Today I will choose peace and quiet."   

From the Fish Box

"Good morning Jimmy, When I woke up early this morning my cat still hadn't come home. So I got dressed and went to go look for her. After 45-min and feeling into where she was, I stood at a spot quietly calling (as it still was really early) and suddenly she started meowing from somewhere and found her way to me. After a bit of saying hello, she led the way home. So, she's back and I'm happy ;) Thanks for the session and assistance yesterday. It helped a lot!" - Nicky

From Jimmy: Some of you may have read on Facebook that MY sweet black male cat "Kitty" has been missing for over a week.  If you can offer your prayers for his safe and quick return, we sure could use them!  🙏  It would be the best birthday present ever!!

Monthly LIVE Zoom Event

Next MySwitchWorks Live Zoom Event Wednesday August 26th 7:30-8pm ET August: Themes of Loss

Have you recently suffered a loss of work, a loved one in spirit, lost innocence, lost health, lost youth and vitality?

Let’s have this one be about what you feel you’ve lost and what you’d like to reclaim!  Gainful employment, peace, restored zest for life etc...  Send in your Top 3 to support@jimmymackhealing.com (please do not reply to the confirmation email)

Register Here for August - $22

LIVE Appearances - Free Healing

Thursday Sept. 23rd - The Global Gathering

with host Dipal Shah. The Gathering is an online spiritual event in which multiple healers, lightworkers, catalysts and spiritual teachers come together as ONE to support humanity by anchoring love, light, joy, wellness and optimism.    Join Us and Watch Online!   

The Jimmy Mack Healing Show

NEW VIDEO FORMAT! WATCH IT LIVE  TUESDAY'S at 4pm EDT / 1pm PDT Watch and Participate (via Comments) during the Live TV Show streamed on Goldylocks Productions YouTube Channel, Facebook Page and Periscope.   NOTE: You will need to log into your YouTube (Google) or Facebook accounts to comment. If you watch the Live show from any other location other than the 3 listed below, your comments will not be seen by the Show Host or Producer. https://www.facebook.com/GoldylocksProductions https://www.pscp.tv/Goldylocks168/follow Or watch all live and replays in the archives here: https://thejimmymackhealingshow.com/

Instructions for the VIEWERS: 1.    One reading/message per person. The first question posted will be answered, so please think about your question carefully before posting it.  2.    If you want a longer and more detailed message, please book an appointment with the Show Host.  3.    Spirit does come through and gives messages that can apply to many, not just the person asking the question. 4.    It is not required nor should be expected that every question or comment will be addressed by the Show Host. 5.    If you have any issues with the show host or show format, please contact the Show Producer... not the Show Host. 6.    Contact the Show Producer, Rev. Tiffany White Sage Woman via email: goldylocksproductions@hotmail.com Yesterday's Show - Watch the replay here! Special Guest Jeremy Riden  Divine Spark Ministries https://www.facebook.com/JeremyRiden/  UPCOMING GUESTS:

August 25th Rev Debbie | Our resident trans medium communications with your loved ones in spirit. Visit her Facebook page September 1st Psychic Joanne Leo | Numerology/astrology/angel cards reading from the heart www.psychicjoanneleo.com   September 8th Jeremy Riden | Cards and intuitive readings https://divinesparkministries.com/about-jeremy-riden   September 15th  Gosia Lorenz| Clearing negative entities and intuitive readings www.gosialorenz.com   September 22nd Ayla Murray | Tarot/Angel Cards and intuitive readings https://www.facebook.com/harmonicperspective/   September 29th Rev Debbie | Our resident trans medium communications with your loved ones in spirit. Visit her Facebook page  

Receive 24/7 Prayers from Jimmy

Nightly prayers include COVID-19. Each night we work on scrambling the frequency for everyone on the prayer list. Your name will be added to a special VIP Prayer list where Jimmy will use his intelligent computer software, src4you which runs 24/7, to delete the negative and increase the strength of the positive creating a higher probability of favorable outcomes for you.  

In addition, throughout the full 30-days, Jimmy will be dialing into your energetic signature each day upon rising and make certain that you are a clear yes, unclear to no and running forward before you start your day. He is doing the heavy lifting for you around 3am NY time while most of you are asleep in order to smooth out your way and increase your most favorable life outcomes.

The 30-day service is now being offered exclusively  and you also have the option of selecting an ongoing subscription ($95/month) which is managed through PayPal only.

Upon written email request, for each new order we offer a one-time email analysis via the intelligent healing software that Jimmy uses on your behalf.  Most clients have had amazing results and outcomes!

You can add yourself and those living in your immediate household and yes you can include pets! Merely include everyone’s names and Jimmy will add them to his daily prayers. *NOTE if the MDP Service was purchased via a special telesummit or radio show offer, prayers will be limited to BUYER ONLY - and will not include family members or pets.

You can run this monthly and stop at any time after the 30 days is up, you will have the opportunity to renew and update your list each month but are under no obligation. I believe you will experience magical transformations and make progress every day! 

Sign Up for 30-Days - $99

 Tampa Office Sessions

FRIDAY KODAWARI YOGA STUDIOS 

Friday sessions are back to being phone-only for folks that I usually see at Kodawari until further notice. You can book time with me in the shop and schedule online.   3965 Henderson Blvd Suite C Tampa ☎️ (813) 999-1874 http://www.kodawariyoga.com/

Go deep sea "fishing" with Jimmy!

Level 1 is open to ANYONE at anytime! Click here to watch the Mastery video playlist

The Certificate of Mastery Program includes 2 best-selling ebooks and 2 clearing audios plus written & video instructions, AND one-on-one time with Jimmy ALL for about the cost of a single 1-hr session! This online course is for anyone who is familiar with OR new to "fishing" and is ready to dive into the deep end & get results that are beyond the ordinary! It includes The Tackle Box & The Dowser's Handbook ebooks PLUS 2 MP3s "Clearing Dark Energies" & "Increasing Your Intuition" to help clear, strengthen and prepare your energy field for optimal “fishing” results. This is a work-at-your-own-pace curriculum that will TEACH & CLEAR you at the same time! In under 2wks you will be finished with the program and ready to fish on your own with greater results! Level II offers Practitioner Certification for those who qualify.

LEARN MORE HERE

**Can't See The Full Email? Click Here to View Online**

For those who aren't familiar, here's the list of the MyBeliefWorks™ audio library. 

Find a topic that addresses your issue(s), click on the link to read more. We had a lot of help downloading & channeling these over the years & they keep getting better. Don't forget... you can share these with you immediate friends and family.

Abundance Abuse Addiction Body Scan: Head to Toe COVID-19 Daily GPS Reset Dark Energies/Fears Decision Making Diet & Exercise Education & Learning Family & Relatives The Gold Coin Healing Physical Body Healing Mental Stress Holiday Stress

Increasing Intuition IRS & Tax Time Love & Romance Money Mindset Moving Forward Pain Relief Pet Healing Sales & Success Improving Sex Improving Sleep Traveling w/Ease Work & Career Weight Loss Windfall Youth & Vitality

TGIFunny

Share

Tweet

Forward

Pinterest

Jimmy Mack | Appointments Skype: Jimmy.Mack55 Clearwater Florida USA Book a 15 minute session Book a 30 minute session Book a 60 minute session ​​​ Transformational Healing of Body, Mind​ & Spirit, People, Places, Pets & Situations!​ ​ Download the My Liquid Fish® Starter Kit (*Updated May 2019) Audio MP3 Downloads​ and books​ to improve your life! Get Certified in ​My Liquid Fish® Change Made Simple® Watch Free Videos on YouTube Weekly Radio Show Archives Shop for ​Supplements ​ http://www.jimmymackhealingshop.com www.jimmymackhealing.com Copyright ©1998-2020 All Rights Reserved  

-------------------------------------------------- TGIW newsletter managed by: Sandy Bidinger Digital Marketing Specialist at SMBeConnected Solutions www.smbeconnected.com  

Stay connected!

  Our mailing address is: Clearwater Florida 33756 USA

[365dailyaffirmations]

TGIWednesday and party like it's MY birthday

TGIWednesday News

Today is my birthday and yes, this is how I feel as my g'daughter Charlie represents another year has come and gone!  Where does it go?  I have a movie star client that always says, “The days are long but the years fly by!”  The ultimate lessons that I have learned over time are as my sweet momma always said, “I don’t do rush.” So slow it down a bit and don’t hurry up into anything or anyone!  Know that I appreciate you and every birthday. I am now making every effort to receive personal self-care, whether it’s a haircut/massage/reading or other.  And with all of my birthdays I like to treat others...  

So here you go in celebration of my birthday on August 19th we have activated a Special 19% off Discount on ALL Audio MP3 and eBooks in the shop for the next 19 hours!  You'll see the price adjustment after you Add To Cart and begin Checkout.  This deal will be gone in a FLASH so don't delay!  Go here now and have fun shopping!  (*sessions/prayers zoom videos and certification are NOT included - time runs out at 6pm ET/ 3pm PT on Thursday the 20th) Make it fun today and every day and know that I appreciate you and I plan on having my version of fun too!

Get Jimmy's Bday19 Discount Here!

TGIWednesday Download

~ CLEARING YOUR DAY AND EVERY DAY ~ I believe, think, know and feel that my day today is Clear. I know, when, where, how and why to release my day today from unclear.  I am ready, willing and able to have everything today in this very day, running forward with grace and ease and I am asking in all time lines and languages and so it is.

Fish Food 

The Daily Bread To Feed The Fish

AUGUST 19th- HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! Birthday Greetings from my Inbox: "Jimmy, Happy Birthday, listen my tooth is really bothering me and I have another dentist appointment tomorrow but I am hoping to get with you today to get rid of this pain and anxiety, so get me in on your first available, K?. "Happy Birthday, do you think my resumé is being received because the recruiters act skittish and I am wondering if it’s just me or the whole state of Florida? Can we schedule? "Jimmy, Happy Birthday my dear friend, I hope you are having a blast and I know that traditionally you don’t schedule clients on your birthday, but I am hoping you will make an exception for me because I just got back from the doctor, hit me back. "Jimmy, Happy Birthday, I forgot that you are a fellow Leo like me, listen, I cannot find my car keys anywhere.....Thoughts? Hints? Impressions? "Happy Birthday buddy, I know you’re not working today but my anxiety and loneliness is at a new level, honestly we have to get together ASAP anything available noonish today? Call, text or email asap. "Jimmy, I know that you’ve been working on me for attracting more women and I REALLY want to get with this new girl. I don’t think I told you that I found out her husband’s name is the same as mine and now she’s acting all cold towards me. Do you think that all the attractive good mojo stuff you’ve been sending my way went to the wrong Phillip? I know it’s like midnight but call me ASAP." Daily Affirmation: "Today I will remember that we have choices. That "No" can be a one word sentence. That other people are generally self-absorbed and that I can make the choice to buy into that as a belief and or as much as a choice that they have made. Today I will choose peace and quiet."   

From the Fish Box

"Good morning Jimmy, When I woke up early this morning my cat still hadn't come home. So I got dressed and went to go look for her. After 45-min and feeling into where she was, I stood at a spot quietly calling (as it still was really early) and suddenly she started meowing from somewhere and found her way to me. After a bit of saying hello, she led the way home. So, she's back and I'm happy ;) Thanks for the session and assistance yesterday. It helped a lot!" - Nicky

From Jimmy: Some of you may have read on Facebook that MY sweet black male cat "Kitty" has been missing for over a week.  If you can offer your prayers for his safe and quick return, we sure could use them!  🙏  It would be the best birthday present ever!!

Monthly LIVE Zoom Event

Next MySwitchWorks Live Zoom Event Wednesday August 26th 7:30-8pm ET August: Themes of Loss

Have you recently suffered a loss of work, a loved one in spirit, lost innocence, lost health, lost youth and vitality?

Let’s have this one be about what you feel you’ve lost and what you’d like to reclaim!  Gainful employment, peace, restored zest for life etc...  Send in your Top 3 to support@jimmymackhealing.com (please do not reply to the confirmation email)

Register Here for August - $22

LIVE Appearances - Free Healing

Thursday Sept. 23rd - The Global Gathering

with host Dipal Shah. The Gathering is an online spiritual event in which multiple healers, lightworkers, catalysts and spiritual teachers come together as ONE to support humanity by anchoring love, light, joy, wellness and optimism.    Join Us and Watch Online!   

The Jimmy Mack Healing Show

NEW VIDEO FORMAT! WATCH IT LIVE  TUESDAY'S at 4pm EDT / 1pm PDT Watch and Participate (via Comments) during the Live TV Show streamed on Goldylocks Productions YouTube Channel, Facebook Page and Periscope.   NOTE: You will need to log into your YouTube (Google) or Facebook accounts to comment. If you watch the Live show from any other location other than the 3 listed below, your comments will not be seen by the Show Host or Producer. https://www.facebook.com/GoldylocksProductions https://www.pscp.tv/Goldylocks168/follow Or watch all live and replays in the archives here: https://thejimmymackhealingshow.com/

Instructions for the VIEWERS: 1.    One reading/message per person. The first question posted will be answered, so please think about your question carefully before posting it.  2.    If you want a longer and more detailed message, please book an appointment with the Show Host.  3.    Spirit does come through and gives messages that can apply to many, not just the person asking the question. 4.    It is not required nor should be expected that every question or comment will be addressed by the Show Host. 5.    If you have any issues with the show host or show format, please contact the Show Producer... not the Show Host. 6.    Contact the Show Producer, Rev. Tiffany White Sage Woman via email: goldylocksproductions@hotmail.com Yesterday's Show - Watch the replay here! Special Guest Jeremy Riden  Divine Spark Ministries https://www.facebook.com/JeremyRiden/  UPCOMING GUESTS:

August 25th Rev Debbie | Our resident trans medium communications with your loved ones in spirit. Visit her Facebook page September 1st Psychic Joanne Leo | Numerology/astrology/angel cards reading from the heart www.psychicjoanneleo.com   September 8th Jeremy Riden | Cards and intuitive readings https://divinesparkministries.com/about-jeremy-riden   September 15th  Gosia Lorenz| Clearing negative entities and intuitive readings www.gosialorenz.com   September 22nd Ayla Murray | Tarot/Angel Cards and intuitive readings https://www.facebook.com/harmonicperspective/   September 29th Rev Debbie | Our resident trans medium communications with your loved ones in spirit. Visit her Facebook page  

Receive 24/7 Prayers from Jimmy

Nightly prayers include COVID-19. Each night we work on scrambling the frequency for everyone on the prayer list. Your name will be added to a special VIP Prayer list where Jimmy will use his intelligent computer software, src4you which runs 24/7, to delete the negative and increase the strength of the positive creating a higher probability of favorable outcomes for you.  

In addition, throughout the full 30-days, Jimmy will be dialing into your energetic signature each day upon rising and make certain that you are a clear yes, unclear to no and running forward before you start your day. He is doing the heavy lifting for you around 3am NY time while most of you are asleep in order to smooth out your way and increase your most favorable life outcomes.

The 30-day service is now being offered exclusively  and you also have the option of selecting an ongoing subscription ($95/month) which is managed through PayPal only.

Upon written email request, for each new order we offer a one-time email analysis via the intelligent healing software that Jimmy uses on your behalf.  Most clients have had amazing results and outcomes!

You can add yourself and those living in your immediate household and yes you can include pets! Merely include everyone’s names and Jimmy will add them to his daily prayers. *NOTE if the MDP Service was purchased via a special telesummit or radio show offer, prayers will be limited to BUYER ONLY - and will not include family members or pets.

You can run this monthly and stop at any time after the 30 days is up, you will have the opportunity to renew and update your list each month but are under no obligation. I believe you will experience magical transformations and make progress every day! 

Sign Up for 30-Days - $99

 Tampa Office Sessions

FRIDAY KODAWARI YOGA STUDIOS 

Friday sessions are back to being phone-only for folks that I usually see at Kodawari until further notice. You can book time with me in the shop and schedule online.   3965 Henderson Blvd Suite C Tampa ☎️ (813) 999-1874 http://www.kodawariyoga.com/

Go deep sea "fishing" with Jimmy!

Level 1 is open to ANYONE at anytime! Click here to watch the Mastery video playlist

The Certificate of Mastery Program includes 2 best-selling ebooks and 2 clearing audios plus written & video instructions, AND one-on-one time with Jimmy ALL for about the cost of a single 1-hr session! This online course is for anyone who is familiar with OR new to "fishing" and is ready to dive into the deep end & get results that are beyond the ordinary! It includes The Tackle Box & The Dowser's Handbook ebooks PLUS 2 MP3s "Clearing Dark Energies" & "Increasing Your Intuition" to help clear, strengthen and prepare your energy field for optimal “fishing” results. This is a work-at-your-own-pace curriculum that will TEACH & CLEAR you at the same time! In under 2wks you will be finished with the program and ready to fish on your own with greater results! Level II offers Practitioner Certification for those who qualify.

LEARN MORE HERE

**Can't See The Full Email? Click Here to View Online**

For those who aren't familiar, here's the list of the MyBeliefWorks™ audio library. 

Find a topic that addresses your issue(s), click on the link to read more. We had a lot of help downloading & channeling these over the years & they keep getting better. Don't forget... you can share these with you immediate friends and family.

Abundance Abuse Addiction Body Scan: Head to Toe COVID-19 Daily GPS Reset Dark Energies/Fears Decision Making Diet & Exercise Education & Learning Family & Relatives The Gold Coin Healing Physical Body Healing Mental Stress Holiday Stress

Increasing Intuition IRS & Tax Time Love & Romance Money Mindset Moving Forward Pain Relief Pet Healing Sales & Success Improving Sex Improving Sleep Traveling w/Ease Work & Career Weight Loss Windfall Youth & Vitality

TGIFunny

Share

Tweet

Forward

Pinterest

Jimmy Mack | Appointments Skype: Jimmy.Mack55 Clearwater Florida USA Book a 15 minute session Book a 30 minute session Book a 60 minute session ​​​ Transformational Healing of Body, Mind​ & Spirit, People, Places, Pets & Situations!​ ​ Download the My Liquid Fish® Starter Kit (*Updated May 2019) Audio MP3 Downloads​ and books​ to improve your life! Get Certified in ​My Liquid Fish® Change Made Simple® Watch Free Videos on YouTube Weekly Radio Show Archives Shop for ​Supplements ​ http://www.jimmymackhealingshop.com www.jimmymackhealing.com Copyright ©1998-2020 All Rights Reserved  

-------------------------------------------------- TGIW newsletter managed by: Sandy Bidinger Digital Marketing Specialist at SMBeConnected Solutions www.smbeconnected.com  

Stay connected!

  Our mailing address is: Clearwater Florida 33756 USA