#plus i have apartment 143

[hyuuukais]

chapter three of look up to the stars has been finished at 6.2k :3 i think the next will be a bit closer to 7k bc there's quite a bit to happen in it, or at least something that would take time to get through for them

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 174. brb x oc

a/n: i have no idea what im doing so if it makes no sense blame google cause well 8) (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!! they make my nights they really do<3)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: n o n e. but expect some angst next chapter. NOTHING SERIOUS

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

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116/117/118/119/120/121/122/123/124/125/126/127/128/129/130/131/132/133/134/135/136/137/138/139/140/141/142/143/144/145/146/147

/148/149/150/151/152/153/154/155/156/157/158/159/160/161/162/163/164/165/166/167/168/169/170/171/172/173

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

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-

One month apart,first trimester, 12:12,San Diego CA.

They were getting bigger.

It’s obvious when she turns her body and when she looks at her reflection, she was getting more…oval. Oval? Would that be the right shape? She gives herself another look, running her hands through her hair before she turns her body partially around, smiling at how the dress looked on her body.

Marcus is a magic man, he’s the Wizard of Oz of fashion because this is just so beautiful. This dress is crafted from an almost ethereal, lightweight fabric that gracefully drapes and flows with every movement. It is a seamless blend of enchantment and comfort, which is exactly what she adores.

The dress has an off-the-shoulder neckline that delicately frames her collarbones and shoulders and the bodice is designed to offer gentle support to the growing belly, and that she was pretty sure was somehow added before he handed the dress over to her.

Again, wizard of OZ.

The flowing skirt starts from just below the bust, allowing ample room for the baby bump. It cascades down in layers of soft, translucent lilac colored fabric, creating a mesmerizing and dreamy effect as it catches the light . The length of the skirt is more of a tea-length which is really comfortable, and it’s not too tight.

And it had a stretchy, adjustable waistline, “God,I love Marcus so much.” she says, still admiring herself in the mirror and cupping the bottom of her rounded stomach with both hands, “I look like those…renaissance paintings. Oh it’s so lovely!” she stops looking to herself when her phone pings with the alarm. She quickly grabs it to check the time, “Oh boy. Time to go,Nikki.” her daughter was peacefully sitting on the bed, surrounded by her toys and only looking up when her mother refers to her.

“Aa?”

“Yes, we need to go to auntie Evelyn’s party!” she coos, picking her up, “Auntie Shells is picking us up-even though I could easily drive us there she just doesn’t want me to get hurt.” she doesn’t sound that happy but she does shake her head while slapping on a smile, “Anyway, let’s go. You look so cute!”

It was just a miniature version of her dress only it had princess sleeves that made Nicole look like a little pixie. The flower headband fell a bit forward so Beatrice quickly adjusted it backwards so it wouldn’t land on Nicole’s eyes but honestly her daughter was too busy playing with the flower appliques on her mother’s bust, “I know right? It’s pretty!”

“Peety!”

“Yes! Pretty!” she grins, kissing her cheek and grabbing both the gift and her bag before walking out of the bedroom. The dogs all looked up when they heard her footsteps, with Jolene standing up at the bottom of the stairs, “Jojo.” she begins, “I’m going to be out of the house for a few hours, I’ll probably bring something for you guys too- I know there’s going to be some doggy friendly treats for you.” Eleanor whines from the corner and Beatrice lowers her brows, “I know,I know, but Evelyn said some of her relatives will bring their dogs over and they can be…hard to befriend, if that wasn’t the case you’d all come with us too!”

“Baaaabes!”

“Oh God.”

“Babes!” followed by a series of honking, “Come out here!Come on!” more honking.

“I swear to God.” she whispers to herself, bringing Nicole up to her chest, “One of these days she’s going to get arrested while here- bye guys. Say bye,Nikki.” Nicole already knew how to wave, so she did just that as they walked to the front door, saying ‘bye bye!’ to the dogs until they were no longer in her view.

Shells was leaning against the front of her Buick with her arms crossed. She was wearing a dress, but it was green, tight at the waist with a halter top bust, “Ohhh!” she smiles as Beatrice locks the front door, “You two look adorable!’

Beatrice returns the smile, approaching Shells once everything is locked tight. She adjusts Nicole in her arms, making sure her daughter is comfortable and secure. "Thank you, Shells! And you look stunning as always," Beatrice says, genuinely admiring her friend's outfit.

Shells uncrosses her arms and opens them for a hug. Beatrice leans in, careful not to squish Nicole between them, and they embrace for a moment. "Are you ready for the party?" Shells asks, pulling away from the hug but keeping her hands on Beatrice's shoulders.

"Absolutely! I can't wait to celebrate with Evelyn and everyone," Beatrice replies with enthusiasm. "Is she excited?”

Shells gives her a half shrug, “She’s kinda annoyed she had to change the date because of the people. But you know, she’s managing how she can,I don’t think she murdered anyone with her eyes yet.”

“It’s still early.”

Shells nods while laughing, opening the back door for Beatrice, “Go on ahead.” she says while gesturing towards Nicole’s seat in there. Beatrice wastes no time in latching Nicole comfortably tight, then stretching her arms above her head once she’s back to her standing position, ‘Oh my God, now I can see it?”

Beatrice blinks, holding both hands on top of her head before turning her eyes to Shells, “Hm?”

“The twins!” she points to her friend’s stomach, “Look at that! Now it’s obvious they are there, god damn,Bea, they’ll be so big once they pop out.”

Beatrice follows Shells' gesture and looks down at her own rounded belly, laughing softly. She gently places a hand on her stomach, feeling the weight and presence of her unborn twins.

"You're right, Shells. They are getting bigger," Beatrice says, her voice filled with awe and wonder. "I can't believe how much they've grown. It's both exciting and a little overwhelming."

Shells leans against the car, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I mean, are they kicking yet?"

“Not yet, but they will soon.”

“Just wait until Rooster sees you like that. He’ll freak out.” she says much to her friend’s confusion, “Girl,we are going to take some pictures!You look too pretty to not share with others!”

Beatrice blushes at the compliment and rolled her eyes, but she is very happy. "Thank you, Shells. Your support means the world to me."

“That’s why I’m here,babes. Now, get in the car or else Evelyn will have a freakout. She needs our support more than you know.”

“Both of her parents are there?”

“Just her mom, her father will be there later…cause work.” Shells mutters,”And her mother is hounding her a lot, sooo…”

Beatrice nods understandingly, realizing the importance of their presence at the party for Evelyn. She takes a deep breath, gathering her composure, and climbs into the car. Once seated, she fastens her seatbelt and adjusts herself to find a comfortable position, mindful of her growing belly “Ow.”

Shells snaps her head in Beatrice’s direction so fast she was sure something cracked, “What? What happened? Is Rooster going to kill me?”

Beatrice didn’t look amused, “No,” she sighs, “Just pinched the side of my leg with the seatbelt. Nothing to worry.”

“Ah, well,alright.” Shells starts the car and begins driving towards Evelyn's parents house. When asked the reason for doing that there and not at her penthouse the answer was ‘I am already doing more than enough, plus my parents have a huge backyard and I don’t trust my uncle Tom when he’s drunk.’. Beatrice steals a glance at Nicole, who is quietly observing the passing scenery through the window, seemingly lost in her own little world, babbling quietly.

Sometimes she could hear certain words, like ‘okay’ and ‘hello!’ coming out of her daughter’s mouth and it was so adorable. Better than music if she was honest.

She leans back in her seat, feeling the gentle sway of the car as it moves through the streets. They are getting to a residential area - after Shells stops and checks her gps at least twice- and they see it.

It’s an impressive house that looks like it was built in the 1980s. It was situated on a spacious lot,where they see a well-manicured front yard and a charming entryway adorned with mature trees and colorful landscaping. The exterior of the house showcases the distinct characteristics of the 1980s design, featuring a combination of stucco and brick siding, along with large windows that allow plenty of natural light to filter through.

And there were a lot of cars.

And Evelyn, right by the door.

She widens her eyes then relaxes, looking back over her shoulder then at the car as it rolls into a park, “Took you guys long enough,” she murmurs, stepping back when Beatrice opens the door. The two share a look before hugging, Evelyn squeezes her friend a little bit and Beatrice feels how tense she was.

“You okay?”

“I am now.” she replies quietly, ‘Jake’s family just got here.” she looks back to the front door, letting go of Bea so she could pick Nicole up and Shells was up to her friend instead, hugging Evelyn just as tightly. 

“So,” Shells smiles once she leans back, “What are we expecting?”

“My family being a nightmare.” Evelyn says softly, “They are behaving, which is good but…no promises. My aunts and cousins might hound you,Bea,” the brunette looks up in surprise once Nicole is in her arms, “Since,well,” she waves her hand from Nicole to the growing bump, with a grimace, “Y’know?”

“Oh.” Bea laughs nervously, bouncing Nikki in her arms, “It’s okay, it’ll be fine.I can handle it. They can’t be worse than some of my relatives.”

Evelyn,while clearly not comforted by that sentence, just gave her a little smile, turning on her heel to go back inside, “Come on in.”

Upon entering, they step into a grand foyer with soaring ceilings, showcasing a dramatic staircase that adds a touch of elegance to the space. Both women stare, wide eyed and slack jawed at the view.The layout of the house is spacious, with multiple levels that offer versatility and room for various activities, including a pool table in the corner of one of the rooms.

The living room is adorned with large windows, allowing for panoramic views of the surrounding landscape, while the adjacent dining area provides an inviting space for formal meals or casual get-togethers. And that’s where most of the gifts were, and there were a lot of gifts. So many that neither of the girls knew how to place their own bags there, “Here.” Evelyn just pushed a large amount to the side of the table - and they didn’t fall! - “Sorry about that, there was a lot of stuff and…well, some of the gifts ended up inside.”

Some??

Evelyn,noticing their shocked stare, just sighed, “Not my fault,my parents just told everyone to…uh, go crazy.”

Beatrice and Shells exchange amused glances, with the brunette especially understanding the chaotic nature of family gatherings and the tendency for gift-giving to go overboard. They follow Evelyn into the kitchen, carefully maneuvering more gifts before reaching the backyard where everyone was.

Beatrice can't help but admire the decorations and attention to detail once they get outside, Nicole even reaching out to tug some of the ribbons that hang low enough for her little hand to grab. The area is tastefully adorned with festive colors and elegant centerpieces, creating a warm and inviting ambiance. From the corner they could see Evelyn’s mother talking to people

"I must say, Evelyn, your parents really went all out for this party," Beatrice comments, a hint of awe in her voice.

Evelyn chuckles, almost confusedly. "You have no idea.” she exhales “They love hosting and showing off their home. I tried to rein them in, but they insisted on going big."

“They do?”

“I know,Shells.” Evelyn replies, sounding so tired, “I can’t believe it either since they are both…so…social.” and her eyebrow flicks with annoyance, “Anyway, let me introduce you guys to everyone.”

-

One month apart,first trimester,21:12, unspecified location.

‘Is that your third or second?”

Rooster looks up from his files to see Hangman at the door, holding his own cup of coffee. Rooster flicks his eyes to his mug, checking the contents before pursing his lips, “Fourth,actually.”

“Ah,well, I was close,wasn’t I?” the blonde pilot looks back, where Coyote’s form is approaching, “You called us?”

“I did.” Rooster groans, rubbing his eyes, “Sit down.” and his arms went up to his head, one hand holding his wrist and his vision turned to the several maps and notes he made during the past…three hours, “Dude,my back.” he begins, “It’s like, tiny little mice are stabbing every nerve I have with tiny swords.”

Coyote makes a face, ‘Weird sentence,but okay.”Hangman and Coyote exchange amused glances before taking a seat across from Rooster. Hangman leans back in his chair, sipping his coffee, while Coyote leans forward, resting his elbows on the table.

"Well, Rooster, you look like you've been deep in thought," Coyote says, eyeing the maps and notes scattered all over. "What's on your mind?"

Rooster sighs, massaging his temples. "Well, remember how we thought we knew what we were expecting? When we figured out the old factory was being used as a stronghold?"

Hangman nods, his expression serious. "Yeah, I remember. What about it?"

Rooster taps a specific area on one of the maps. "Intelligence reports suggest that the enemy has significantly reinforced their defenses in that area. They've brought in heavy artillery and increased their troop presence. It's going to be a lot tougher than we initially anticipated."

Coyote's brow furrows as he studies the map. "Damn, that complicates things. We can't afford any surprises when we fly in."

"Exactly," Rooster replies, his tone filled with frustration. "And I don’t plan on losing anyone on this mission so, we need to come up with a solid plan to neutralize their defenses.." he mumbles, “You two are going to join me at the first surveillance round, we can’t get too close, they have heavy shit waiting for the first bird they see…and we are going to bring some of the recruits.”

Hangman makes a face then  takes a thoughtful sip of his coffee before speaking up. "If it smells like shit it probably is, what exactly can we expect? Since what we knew went down the drain?"

Rooster leans back in his chair, a weary expression on his face and one of his hands against his mouth . "Well, based on the latest intel, we can expect fortified barricades, manned checkpoints, and increased patrols around the perimeter.” and he pulls every single file that contains such information “ The enemy has brought in additional firepower, including anti-aircraft weapons and armored vehicles. They're taking this shit seriously."

Coyote interjects, after a minimal amount of silence. "So, they're ready for us. It's not going to be a walk in the park,huh?"

Rooster nods grimly. "Never is. We need to be cautious and precise in our approach. Our primary objective is to gather as much information as possible without alerting them to our presence. So I suggest we divide our teams already. That way, we can cover more ground and gather information from multiple vantage points. It'll also make it harder for the enemy to detect us."

Hangman nods in agreement. "Good idea. We'll assign specific sectors to each team and maintain constant communication. We need to be aware of any changes in enemy movements or reinforcements." he purses his lips, “Which means more training.”

“Yep.”

“No wonder they said we’d be here for six months.” Coyote murmurs, leaning into his chair, “That is…intense.”

“Yeah.” Rooster laughs breathily,shaking his head and rubbing his eyelids, inhaling against his palms, “But that was it for right now, next week we’ll…have a lot to do.”

Hangman glances at his watch and raises an eyebrow. "Next week? You mean we're not going in immediately?"

Rooster lets out a tired sigh, of course he’d say that. "No, we need some time to analyze the new information, and fine-tune our plan. We can't rush into this blindly. It's better to be prepared than to walk into a trap." he groans, “Not to mention the kids need to be aware of this now.”

Coyote leans forward, his curiosity piqued, ignoring Hangman’s sour expression. "So what's the plan? How are we going to gather information without alerting the enemy?"

Rooster leans forward, hovering his hand above the papers, his eyes scanning the maps once again. "We'll have four teams. I want you two to lead one team to conduct aerial reconnaissance. We'll gather as much visual intel as possible, identifying enemy positions, defenses, and any potential weak points." he begins, “We can’t get too close, so it’ll be hard but we can do it.”

Hangman nods, his expression determined. "Understood. I'll coordinate with the kids pilots and make sure we have everything."

“Bob will help you too.”

“Bob?”

Rooster then turns his attention to the map, ignoring Hangman’s displeased shout. "And then I go in.” Silence takes over, both men look at him in surprise and he raises his brow, “I’m not going to stay here, twiddling my thumbs while you go all out. Mav will handle everything while I’m gone.” he inhales shakily, the claw of fear squeezing his stomach, “Once we get everything, once we are aware of it…I’ll go in and we’ll lead the aerial assault.”

Hangman and Coyote exchange glances, their surprise evident. Hangman is the first to respond, but his words break the obvious nervous atmosphere. "Of course you will,why am I surprised."

Rooster looks up from the map, flicking his brow with nothing but amusement shining in his eyes. "You can stay here instead, you know, staring at the snow. If that’s what you want.” Hangman rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in defense before looking away, “I’ll meet with the others in a few, then we’ll debrief to the new recruits and separate the teams. You guys know they’ll be the new co-pilots,right?”

“Sure,” Coyote nods, “We’re playing babysitter.”

“They aren’t that bad.” Rooster chuckles as he organizes everything on the table, “They have talent,they are just…you know, like Hangman.” his friend snaps his gaze at him, “You know, annoying.”

“Hey.”

“And stubborn.” Coyote adds.

“Hey!”

“And don’t forget: full of himself.”

“Hey!I’m right here!”

Rooster,while nervous by the sudden change of events, just laughs.He’s at least glad they could share some humor in such somber circumstances…and he couldn’t help but get nervous. He led missions before, he sure did, but this one felt different because the unknowns were past the common ground.

He didn’t like to be in the dark. He didn’t like to not know what was going on…but he had to make sure everyone got back home intact…him included. He inhales shakily one last time, “Dismissed.” he mutters, “...thanks guys.” the break of professionalism wasn’t necessary but in his opinion was needed.

Sure,he was leading the mission, but they were his friends. He needed that familiarity. “Ah,Hangman,” the blonde pilot stops and stares back at him, “You should check your phone.” 

“My phone-” his blue eyes widened, “Oh my God. Oh my God.” and he runs off, leaving Rooster and Coyote staring at his retreating back, the taller officer just chuckles from his desk, walking around it to turn off the lights and close the door behind him.

Beatrice talked to him about the party, it was still going back in California since it was early so Rooster could just imagine what else was planned for that day…and she looked beautiful. She always does…fuck he missed them so much, he just wanted this mission to go right.

He needed this to go right.

No mistakes.

No doubts.

[therhythmafterthesummer]

some happy mushy thoughts to make rhythm and the worm happy!!! Please give your void a scratch for me

Things I think the wereroomies boys get mushy about

pretty leaving little notes for Chris. Even like just little heart doodles. Sometimes she writes in the bathroom mirror if she had to go into work before him. I also get the vibes she would put a shade of lipstick on to kiss the note so Chan can have a kiss in his pocket. Or I feel like she would make this shirt for him https://www.instagram.com/p/CTaoHBMguC-/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==. Side note this shirt during case 143 would have been 😘. Like this slightly open and like a really messed up black tie. Ooooo or this is the aftermath of chan leaving the house when he has to dress up for work

The alphas love when their girls use a shirt or hoodie of theirs as a pillow. Like not nesting but stil it’s comfort from the smell of their partner. Minho is most susceptible because it transitions meanings for him now from platonic before ,maybe on like field trip rides where kitten was tired and wanted to rest her head, to now just pure comfort.

Changbin also gives the vibe of letting his partner change the apartment to make it more homey for them. Imagine his suprise when his spiciest transformed her old bedroom into like a nesting room. Just soft, warm, and filled with each others scents. Plus I think it would be very cute if like Spicy also had little bit of her best girl friends in their cause ultimately they are a big comfort for her.

Mitten have a big bed and dont cuddle during sleep, but it has more than enough room for Jisung to have a sleepover. Very rarely happens now as opposed to as kids, but when it’s a very serious thing it’s just the three of them bundled together

Chris has a copy of every single school year photo of Pretty. If she can have pup picture collages, he can have this. His favorite is in his wallet behind a current picture of them together 

Changbin and Ginger are like the biggest flirts at the gym. Like are the couple that flirt with each other like they aren’t dating. His spiciest will sneak up to give his butt a smack when he’s lifting. He’ll steal kisses while she’s holding his feet for sit ups. Changbin found that prior to dating Spicy, partners would want a “buff alpha male” but get frustrated with how much time he was in the gym for. But Autumn will happily spends hours there with him or doing a fun little exercise class with the girlies.

link

these are all so so so perfect. like, imagine how many times Chris has arrived to the office with a lipstick mark on his cheek?? or his lips or anywhere??? adorable.

i'm obsessed with gingerbin's spare bedroom being turned into the "nest" room. and OF COURSE there are items from pretty and kitten on that nest

i'm obsessed with all of these, honestly. thank you for sharing them!! they did cheer me up a bit haha

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

in which harry joins a new gym and you’re a trainer there.

a/n: happy new years loves! wishing you all a lovely and happy 2021! first fic of 2021 and im so excited to write more stories this year! to start the new year, here is boxer!harry for you, and this is for my very own timetravelathon fic challenge! if you’d like to join, please let me know, I’d love to have you on board! this story takes place in the 1990, and i know some of the songs mentioned weren’t released specifically in 1990 (just a few years after), but just pretend it was lol because they’re too good to not mention in this story hehe, but happy reading and pls reblog and leave feedback <3

thank you to @sunflowers-styles for beta reading this for me, love you always!

WORD COUNT: 22.6k of (kinda) boxer!harry x trainer!yn filled with angst and smut

WARNINGS: mentions of abandonment and blood 

COME INTO MY INBOX AND LETS TALK ABOUT ‘143’ i’d love to know your thoughts!

pls rb to share! <3

16 August 1990

With every move he made, Harry felt a bead of sweat drip down the side of his face, down his back, and trailing down his chest. Small huffs of breath were released from his mouth, trying not to make it known that he was exhausted, but he continued until all of his energy was used up through the very end. 

“C’mon,” he muttered to himself, anticipating the certain words to be yelled out. 

He’d been going at it for a while now, muscles aching as he felt like he was about to collapse any minute. But he was determined to finish, to feel the satisfaction running through his veins, knowing that this was his best round. 

“And time!” His trainer yelled at him, clicking the stop button on his timer. 

Harry got in one last punch before putting his arms down, the soreness made his limbs feel like jello as he shook them out. The black leather punching bag was swinging back and forth, the chain that held up the speed bag rattled and slid against the metal bar. Harry loved that sound because it indicated that he was going his hardest to where the chain couldn’t keep up. 

“Nice one, kid.” Henson, his trainer said as he fist-bumped Harry’s red glove. 

Harry simply nodded in appreciation, too exhausted to speak as he placed his gloves onto his knees, leaning down as beads of sweat dripped down onto the matted floor. Several harsh breaths came out of his mouth as he sniffed in the fresh oxygen that was mixed with the musky scent of the gym. 

Benny, Harry’s best friend, exited the ring, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his arm before walking towards Harry, who was still leaning on his knees. Benny tapped Harry’s glove, making him stand up straighter, and Harry patted Benny’s back. 

“Good job out there, mate,” Harry told his best friend. Benny was in the ring with one of the other trainers, Mike, doing one of the nonstop routines. Harry liked training with Mike in the ring, but not when it was for cardio and timed rounds; he liked when it was chill, so he knew how hard he had to hit the target, which were the pads. But for the timed rounds they did, Harry was usually by the speed bags and Mike was in the ring. 

“You too, man,” Benny breathed out with a smile. 

They headed over to the bench to take their gloves off and catch a breather. The pair would do a  cardio day every Thursday to get a good, sweaty workout in, and it always left them exhausted, but definitely much stronger. 

“Hey, I’m not gonna be able to workout next Thursday,” Benny mentioned. Harry furrowed his brows as he put the end of the strap between his teeth to pull it off from the velcro, taking one glove off. 

“What? Why not?” Harry asked confusingly. They never really had to call off a workout, especially Thursdays, unless one of them was sick, but other than that, neither of them missed any workout days. 

“I’m taking the wife on a date,” Benny smirked, clearly very excited to spend some time with his wife, but Harry wasn’t amused. 

“On a Thursday? Why can’t you do that on Friday?” 

Benny rolled his eyes. “Because we both called off Friday, so we’re having a four day weekend to ourselves,” he explained. 

Harry huffed, clearly not entertained. “Guess so…” 

Benny knew Harry was always like this, ever since they were younger. The two had been so close ever since they met, now that Benny had a wife, Harry always felt like the third wheel and that he rarely saw Benny, however, that wasn’t entirely true Benny exercised with Harry every night during the weekdays, and sometimes they even grabbed a bite to eat afterward when Benny could use that time to be with his wife, Marianne. 

Harry had an overwhelming fear of abandonment, it led him to have anxieties about how Benny could just get up and walk out of his life, even though he wouldn’t. Maybe it was why Harry is so attached to him; he’s the closest to Harry and it would completely destroy him if Benny ever decided that he didn’t want to be his friend anymore. That fear only grew based on an unfortunate turn of events that happened in college, four years ago, and it left Harry to pieces. Benny had never seen Harry so broken where he literally had to pick him up and take care of him. He never wanted to see his best friend like that ever again because it absolutely crushed him. 

“It’s two days that we’re not going to be seeing each other, chill out. Didn’t know you were that in love with me,” Benny joked, hoping to lighten up Harry’s mood. Luckily, it worked because Harry breathed out a chuckle, throwing his towel at Benny’s face.

The two collected their belongings and walked over to the trainers as they always do at the end of every workout to have a light chat with them. Henson and Mike told them they did a great job and asked to confirm if they were still on for tomorrow, which Benny and Harry both agreed to. Benny also mentioned about not being able to work out next Thursday and Friday, including the reason why he wasn’t able to. 

Henson and Mike looked at each other as if they were keeping something from the two. Harry titled his head  and looked at Benny as if he was asking if he knew the reason why they were looking at each other weirdly, but Benny just shrugged his shoulders, just as clueless as Harry. 

“Are you gonna tell us why you’re acting suspiciously?” Harry asked. The two trainers both sighed defeatedly. 

“About that…” Henson started. “Next Friday…we’re closing,” he added. 

“Like, closing for the day?” Benny asked innocently, hoping they didn’t mean what he really thought. 

“No…for good,” Mike stated. Harry and Benny’s eyes both widened, words coming out of both of their mouths profusely. They were both talking over each other, disagreeing and not accepting the fact that the gym was shutting down. 

“You can’t just do that-”

“-No, we refuse to let you close down-”

“Alright, guys! Settle down. You’re starting to act like kids, for god's sake,” Henson interrupted the tantrum that was about to start. 

“You guys can’t just do that!” Benny exclaimed. 

“Why are you guys even doing that?” Harry asked. 

Mike sighed. “We mutually decided that it was best to close down because…we really need the money. My rent has been skyrocketing crazy high because more people have just decided that moving to Los Angeles is fun.” He rolled his eyes, and Harry slightly chuckled because it was true. Hollywood was the place to be and people from out of state had just figured out their new profound dream to move to one of the busiest cities. 

“Fight Night will never be forgotten, alright? We’re just ready to let this place go. Plus, the roof is leaking and the wall is tearing apart, and that’s gonna be a pain to fix,” Henson added. 

Mike and Henson were brothers and built Fight Night when they were in college. With the help of their father, they decided to build a place to gain strength and power, all while helping others defend themselves. Harry and Benny had been frequenting it ever since college, and it felt like home to them. Aside from the yelling and stuffy scent, it was a place for them to release any type of anger or stress.

Benny introduced Fight Night to Harry when he had physically picked Harry up from the ground on, what possibly was, the worst night of his life. It was something Harry looked forward to after classes, anxiously bouncing his leg up and down, waiting to get to the gym. Fight Night helped rebuild him, and now, he was in disbelief that the gym was closing. 

“We’re old as fuck now. We wanna live our lives freely. Time to retire now, don’t you think?” Mike said with a sad chuckle. They were both in their late fifties, so Harry and Benny understood why they wanted to be free of work. 

The four of them hugged it out, a very emotional and sentimental hug that was heartwarming but sad. Eyes were slightly watered before Henson pushed them and said, “We’re closing the gym next week, not fucking dying! We have time for this bullshit for an entire week.” 

Harry and Benny left the gym with bittersweet hearts, but they kept Fight Night close to them, knowing that they owed a lot to the gym and the two men who built the facility. Mike had recommended some gyms that were close by if they were still interested in boxing, which they definitely were, so they were planning to check them out first before signing up. 

“Do you wanna get something to eat?” Harry asked once they were outside of the gym. The air was humid, nothing different from inside the gym since it was summer and the sun was beginning to go down. 

“Nah, I’m good. Gonna get home to Marianne. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Benny pat Harry’s back, nodding. 

Harry waved. “See you.” He watched Benny walk away before getting into his silver 1990 BMW 5 series, sighing. He always hated going home, and he always tried staying out for as long as he possibly could. 

As he drove home, he anxiously tapped his hands on the steering wheel as he couldn’t quite keep them still. It’d been happening for a while, a lot more often than he’d like, but he couldn’t help it. 

Walking into the darkness and emptiness of his home, he sighed sadly as he sulked all the way to the restroom to shower. The hot steam relieved his achy and sore muscles, but he was hoping for this shower to also release any occurring and bad thoughts he had in his head. 

He couldn’t help but think about the gym closing down. After going there for years, he couldn’t imagine going to a new gym; he’d adapted and adjusted to Fight Night that it would take him forever to find a gym that truly made him feel wanted. He was scared, to say the least. 

Harry was never a big fan of change. He liked being comfortable and stable and didn't like to move around a lot. So, the thought of going to a different gym that wasn’t Fight Night, terrified him. It only added to the list of things that had abandoned him. 

Once he was out of the shower, white towel secured lowly on his hips, showcasing his beautiful toned torso that was filled and inked with tattoos, his pager beeped. He wondered who it was as he walked over to his nightstand, considering that it was nearing nine in the evening. 

He deeply sighed when he saw the pager read ‘345987,’ immediately knowing who it was. The pager code meaning ‘I’m horny’ could only mean it’s coming from Lizette. 

Deciding not to answer the page, Harry set his pager down before walking back to the restroom, only for his home phone to ring, causing him to stop in his steps and answer the phone. 

“Hello?” Harry answered. 

“Hey, baby,” Lizette said seductively. His brows furrowed, holding the towel to his waist as it had loosened up a bit. 

“What do you want?” 

“You know what I want…” He knew exactly what she wanted. If she hadn’t paged him, he would still know what she wanted from him since all he provided to her was sex. “Isn’t it such a coincidence that I’m outside of your door right now?” Harry didn’t say anything but pinch the bridge of his nose before hanging up. 

He walked towards his front door, sighing before opening the door that revealed Lizette on the other side, wearing a low cut top, cleavage clearly showing, and high waisted denim shorts. She leaned on the doorframe, smirking as she looked Harry up and down, noticing that he wasn’t wearing anything but a towel. Harry gulped as she stepped forward, placing her hands on his stomach before completely taking the towel off, and a smug smile plastered on her face. 

Harry lets her take over like he always did. The feel of someone else’s body holding his, and lips kissing his own and his skin was something he couldn’t compare to anything else. Harry simply only did this to have some companionship, and Lizette made him feel a lot less lonely even if she was only there to have sex with him. He enjoys it twenty-five percent of the time—the other seventy-five percent was him actually wallowing in wanting someone to love him for him. 

After they were done, Harry immediately covered himself with the blanket as Lizette got out of the bed to change back into her clothes. Even though they had sex multiple times and she’s seen him naked, there was something about the vulnerability after the sex that he didn’t want her to see because she didn’t quite deserve that if he was being honest. 

“I had fun. Call you next time,” Lizette bid him goodbye before smacking a big kiss to his cheek, leaving a lipstick stain on his skin. She walked herself out, and once Harry heard the slam of the front door closing, he cringed slightly, wiping the lipstick off. 

He turned onto his side, deeply exhaling. He didn’t feel anything but numbness—it was always like this. He used sex to cope with how he felt, but it only made it worse. Honestly, he didn’t know what else to do, so it was the only thing he turned to, other than boxing. 

Harry fell asleep in his lonely room by himself. His heart was empty and felt like an isolated building that only carried his sadness. 

The entire week had gone by in a flash — Fight Night was officially closed down for good. 

Harry and Benny helped clean the space out as they reminisced and talked about the memories that were made in that gym. A lot of the stories had to do with girls walking by the gym, glancing through the window to see men working out, and then promptly walking into the gym to try and hit on the guys. 

Harry had tried convincing Henson that he could run the gym, but he shot down the idea before Harry could convince him. 

“Kid, look. If you want to run your own gym, do it. I want you to own a gym under your name. Not mine or Mike’s. You deserve to have something of your own, and whatever that may be, work for it. Work hard for it. I know you got it in you because you’re a hard worker, determined. You need to see that for yourself.” 

A conversation that was supposed to convince Henson to let Harry run the gym turned into a sentimental series of words that Harry really needed to hear. Harry didn’t say anything else and nodded as he took in Henson’s words to his heart. Henson was someone Harry looked up to. He was an old man with wise words, and everything he said was either meaningful or mean, in a way to show tough love. So, his words were something Harry lived by. 

The following Monday after Fight Night closed, Benny and Harry were on the search for their new gym. They didn’t plan on quitting the gym after their favorite one had closed down, and Henson and Mike made them swear they wouldn’t stop working out. 

Now, the two were walking into a gym that was up the same amount of time Fight Night was. ‘Don’s Box’ was what the gym was called. The building was newly reconstructed, making the place seem more modern and a little less dingy. The space was quite big, able to fit two rings, six punching bags spread throughout, eight-speed bags, and a weight rack. The walls were painted black, but the amount of natural light from the window was plentiful enough to make the gym feel bigger and brighter. 

A decent amount of people were at the gym, sectioned off with a few kids from eight to twelve on one side, and the rest of the adults on the other. There was a good mix between women and men, and everyone hyped everyone up with motivating words and claps over the music that was playing through two speakers that were hung in the corner. 

“Can I help you?” An older man with gray hair had asked the two. He looked quite intimidating; wearing nylon sweatpants and a black long-sleeved shirt that was rolled up to his elbows, showing his gold watch. The look he had on his face was stern as he crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. 

“Uh, yeah. We’re interested in joining your gym,” Benny told the man. The man looked the two up and down and scoffed. 

“Sure you guys are ready for that?” 

“We’ve been boxing for years, so yeah, we are.” Harry chimed in, a slightly defensive tone added to his words. 

The man glared at Harry, stepping towards him. Harry was slightly taller than him, but he knew the man could definitely take him at any given moment, but Harry wasn’t looking to fight the man, honestly. He wanted to act and look tough in front of him, so the guy wouldn’t give him any crap for it later down the road during his workouts. 

“Alright, alright. Take it easy, pa.” You interrupted, placing a hand on the man’s shoulders, making him turn his head. You raised your brows at him before tilting your head a bit, telling him to step back. The man backed off, giving Harry a snarly glance before huffing. 

“I’m just messing. Gotta know how tough my athletes are to be here,” he spoke in a lighter tone than he was to the man in front of him, putting his arm around you. 

“Thought you were gonna ‘stay on the sidelines’ and let me handle it?” You quoted your father’s words back to him, and he chuckled, putting his hands up, surrendering as he knew he couldn’t win against you. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll let you handle it.” Don, your father, quickly looked at Harry up and down, and you rolled your eyes, knowing he wouldn’t do anything to potential customers. He walked away and you breathed out a chuckle, scratching your head. 

“Sorry about that. You two are interested in joining?” You asked the two men in front of you. They were rather…attractive, you noticed. The one on the left was gorgeous with beautiful brown skin that looked so smooth. He was wearing a pair of red short-shorts and a white muscle tee. You noticed that he was wearing a wedding ring, so you averted your eyes off of him. The man next to him, however, was absolutely stunning. His left arm carried a sleeve-full of tattoos, and you wanted so badly to examine and look at every single one. With chocolate brown curls, his green eyes had a tad bit of a glimmer to them, not too much though, because if you were being honest, they were a bit dull, like he was exhausted and needed to let off some of the stress that he held based on how tense he looked. 

You tried not to observe and think about it too much as your ability to read individuals thrived while meeting new people. You shook it off the thought, not wanting to assume things about their lives and seem too creepy in front of new and potential members. 

“Yeah, we are. I’m Benny, by the way.” He shook your hand, smiling. 

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N. I run this place.” You offered the same smile back. Your eyes looked over at his friend, and he gave you a soft smile. “Y/N,” you repeated, taking your hand out for him to shake. 

“I’m Harry. Harry Styles,” he introduced fully. A beautiful name for a beautiful man, you thought. He shook your hand as you felt the softness of his skin mixed with a tad bit of roughness from the callouses, probably from heavy-lifting. 

Something about Harry introducing his full name had made you a bit weak in the knees. His deep and accented voice had made you a bit flustered as chills ran up your body. You’re acting like a fool, your subconscious told you. You were never one to show your obvious attraction for men, you were more into watching them from the side. But once Harry walked in, it seemed like you didn’t know how to keep your chill. 

“Perfect. Nice to meet you both. Signing up shouldn’t be too long—don’t want to keep you two from working out.” You led the two men to one of the offices, knocking on the wooden door to greet Jamie. “Hi. These two are looking to sign up. Do you mind helping them out?” 

“Of course! Come on in, guys,” Jamie greeted them, offering them to take a seat along with some water, which they both said yes to. 

“I have to get back to my session, but you both are in great hands. Jamie is one of our best,” you told the two. You sent an innocent wink at Jamie, which he sent one back while Harry watched the entire interaction, feeling uneasy. 

It was quite obvious how attractive and pretty you were. The moment he first saw you, his breath had immediately hitched in his throat. You had the most gorgeous face he’d ever seen, and when you spoke, your voice was soft and gentle, making Harry a bit more safe in a place he’s new to. 

Jamie had gotten their details and credit card information down before asking them if they needed a tour of the place. They both had said no, seeing as things were pretty self-explanatory and they’d been to a boxing gym before. 

They headed out of Jamie’s office and to the main floor, walking over to the heavy bags since the section was less crowded to start stretching. Harry rolled his shoulders and neck around, swinging his arms forwards and backward as he looked around the gym. 

This was something he had to get used to—being in a new place, surrounded by new people. At Fight Night, he was around the same people for four years, and he was comfortable — he was fine with it. But now, he had to go through the same process all over again. Nerves and anxiety crept up his skin as he tried to jump around lightly, warming up a bit but also trying to shake off the unwanted feelings. 

“Hey, you okay?” Benny asked concerningly as he stretched. 

Harry’s brows raised, covering up his anxiousness. “Hmm, yeah, I am. Y’know, just a, uh, new place, that’s all,” he brushed him off. 

“Okay. Well, whenever you���re ready to go, just tell me,” Benny told him before going into his bag to grab the wrapping tape. 

Harry nodded, smiling in appreciation. Benny had always been a great friend to him, and Harry was a great friend to Benny as well. They always took each other’s feelings and concerns into consideration—always making sure the other is okay. They both really appreciated it because some friends weren’t lucky enough to talk about their feelings and be that vulnerable with one another. They trusted each other; they were like brothers. 

Harry grabbed his jump rope, deciding to do a little five-minute warm-up to get his heart rate going. He faced the boxing ring to the left of him, noticing that you were in the ring, so he decided to casually watch you box. He then noticed that you had boxing pads on instead of gloves, and the people you were training were the kids that he had seen earlier. 

He watched you instruct the excited kids who were prancing around with their boxing gloves on, in every color imagined. You helped them fix their form, their stance, and their punch; telling them that they had to be quick with their hit to bring their glove back to the side of their face quickly, so their opponent doesn’t have a chance to take a hit. The kids demonstrated for you, punching your right hand that was covered with the pad. You praised all of them, of course, correcting a few things, but overall, everyone was a natural fighter. 

Harry’s heart rate definitely started to pick up, and he didn’t know if it was how fast he was jumping rope or because of the flutter he felt as he watched you interact with the kids. He truly never felt this kind of feeling where his heart picked up from the simple act of looking at someone. 

You had definitely noticed Harry staring at you from your peripheral view, and you had thought it was a simple glance, but he never looked away. So, you took the opportunity to take a quick look at him while the kids were practicing. 

Your eyes met him and you sent him a small smile, along with a wave with your boxing pads. Harry’s eyes widened, realizing that you were waving at him, and what happened next had embarrassed him even more. With how fast he was jumping, he suddenly got tangled with the rope, causing him to trip against it. Luckily, he caught his fall, but he was already embarrassed enough. 

Harry’s heart completely dropped, cheeks flushed. He couldn’t believe he had made a complete fool of himself, especially at his new gym. He so badly wanted to tell Benny that he was ready to leave, but when he looked over at his friend, he had already started his workout, being so focused and in the zone that Harry didn’t want to be a burden. 

When he turned back around to see if you were still looking, he jolted back a bit as you were behind him. 

“Are you okay?” You asked concerningly. 

“Uh, yeah. I…yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.” He cleared his throat, trying to cover up the fact that his voice almost cracked. He was so stunned by you. The way you made sure he was okay was possibly the nicest thing someone had done for him as you looked at him with your sweet eyes, and your posture was giving him your full attention. His heart pounded through his chest; the simple action and effort that was being put into this was making him overwhelmed. 

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything, yeah?” You told him as you looked at him intently. He simply nodded, knowing that he couldn’t process any more words. 

You gave him one last smile before quickly going back to your students. He watched you climb into the ring so effortlessly before continuing your training class. 

Harry took a deep breath before walking over to one of the speed bags that was in the corner, hoping to hide away from the embarrassment that he felt. Wrapping his hands up, he anxiously scanned the room, noticing that everyone was doing their own thing. There was a possibility that no one else had seen him almost fall on his face, except you, which he really wished that it was the entire gym who saw him instead, not you. He lazily hit the speed bag, trying to warm up and shake off his mortification. Harry continued hitting the bag, eventually getting into a rhythm as his fists alternated between one another, along with the rhythm of the music of Montrell Jordan’s ‘This Is How We Do It.’ 

Soon enough, all the worry and stress that was in Harry’s head and body was shaken off and completely forgotten about as he focused on his strong punches, making sure to connect his mind to his muscles, so he could feel his muscles working. 

And for the time being, life wasn’t all that bad. 

A month had passed since being at Don’s Box, and Harry and Benny quite liked it. They had newer equipment and their music was always on point, playing the best of 90s R&B and Hip-Hop. It was their favorite music to listen to, especially while working out. The people there were nice and cool, never getting in each other’s way and letting everyone do their own thing while still having fun, keeping the space safe and comfortable. 

Harry found himself walking into the gym at nine at night, an hour and a half before it closed. Usually, he wouldn’t work out this late, but during the day, he had felt so unmotivated and lazy to even get out of bed. He could put the blame on Lizette because she had gone to his house the night prior, doing the same thing they always do, but he knew she wasn’t the one to blame. Something about saying no to her and having her not talk to him had physically pained him. They were in a specific arrangement, he knew that. But having someone leave him again was something he couldn’t go through. 

‘What’s Luv?’ by Fat Joe, Ja Rule, and Ashanti was playing when he set his bag down onto the ground against the wall, next to the heavy bag. He started to stretch as he took a look around; not many people were working out at this time, which he liked. 

His eyes continued to search the gym, in hopes he would find you still here. Before the slightest bit of disappointment could settle, he saw you walk out of the hallway with Jamie, smiling and laughing at something he had said. He made a face as a hint of jealousy rushed through as he saw you with Jamie. He knew that there was no point in being jealous because he barely even knew you. But for the past month that he’s been at Don’s Box, you always had this look of excitement on your face when you saw and greeted Harry. It made his stomach flutter every time you would flash him your beautiful smile as you would carry the conversation, asking him about his day and if the music was good, which he commends you for putting his favorite songs on. 

Looking away, he decided to just focus on the quick workout he could get in before the gym closed, so he retained his attention back to stretching before bending down to grab the tape from his bag to wrap his hands. 

“Uh, hi, Harry,” you smiled as you greeted him. He looked up at you. The way the light was positioned behind your head made you look like an actual angel; you were ethereal. 

He stood up and smiled softly. “Hi. How are you?” He asked, trying to contain his nerves from just looking at you. You were gorgeous, as you always are every day. You were wearing a pair of black leggings and a light pink t-shirt that was tied into a knot with the word ‘angel’ that was surrounded by wings printed in the middle. Kind of a coincidence, he thought, thinking back to when he called you an angel in his head. 

“Good, good. You’re here later than usual—without Benny too,” you pointed out, but immediately cursed at yourself for making such an odd observation and telling it to his face as if you were keeping track of the times he’s gone into the gym. 

“Yeah, I was pretty…tired during the day, so the only time I got a burst of energy was right now. And Benny is with his wife and in-laws tonight, so it’s just me tonight,” he explained with a soft chuckle. 

“Well, glad you got the chance to make it in,” you said genuinely. He simply nodded, not knowing what else to say but instead he captured himself into you as you stared at him with your captivating eyes that spoke right through him. What was happening to him? He thought. This hadn’t really happened before, and he was good at letting his walls go up and guarding his precious heart. 

“Hey, I’m gonna head out,” Jamie said, greeting you goodbye, and taking Harry out of his thoughts. “Hey, man. Have a good workout.” He shook Harry’s hand, and Harry smiled, nodding. 

“See you tomorrow,” you told Jamie, smiling a bit as you waved. Jamie left the gym, and it was just you and Harry, along with a few other people who were wrapping up their workout. 

“Are you not gonna go with him?” Harry asked, and you raised your brows in confusion. 

“Why would I go with him?” You wondered. 

“Oh, I just thought you would leave with him, y’know, your boyfriend…” he trailed off, slyly slipping in the word boyfriend in that sentence. 

You giggled, shaking your head. “No, no. Jamie isn't my boyfriend. I’ve known him since I was ten, but nothing’s ever happened between us. Besides, he has a boyfriend of his own.” Harry raised his brows in shock as his shoulders visibly relaxed. “No need to worry, Harry. I’m all yours,” you flirted a bit. You normally wouldn’t flirt so easily with someone, especially if they were a member of your gym, but something about Harry had made you release all the stress you had once you saw and talked to him. 

Harry blushed, grinning as his dimple popped out on his cheek. Your eyes lightened once you noticed that feature, making you think that he was ten times cuter than he already is. 

“You’ve been in the ring, right?” You asked curiously. Harry nodded, and the corner of your lips turned up. “Great! We have about a little less than an hour and a half, so if you’re looking for some intense cardio, I could do it with you—y’know, train you and guide you, and whatnot,” you suggested. 

If Harry’s being honest, he wasn’t planning on doing cardio today—just a few routines to get his muscles warm, but the way you’re looking at him and how you spoke to him so softly and effortlessly, he couldn’t say no. 

“Yeah, I’m up for it,” he responded. Your eye brightened, resisting the urge to squeal from excitement, telling him that you were going to get the mitts and to meet you in the ring. He chuckled slightly as you walked over to the equipment room to get the mitts. Harry quickly hit the speed bag to warm up until he saw you walk out of the room. 

He put on his gray sweater and a green packers beanie, so he could sweat more before he met you in the ring with his gloves pressed between his arm and the side of his body. You put the mitts in between your legs as Harry handed you one of the gloves. Holding onto the end of it, he put his hand inside as you pushed the glove towards him, so it would sit on his hand tightly before strapping it securely for him before proceeding to the next one. The proximity between you two was quite close as you helped him put on the gloves, and you could smell the faint scent of cologne mixed with the slightest bit of sweat, giving him that unique musk; the one that doesn’t smell horrible at all but lured you in. 

You quickly snapped out of your thoughts and looked up at Harry. “Good?” He nodded, punching the gloves together to make sure they felt comfortable. “Ready?” 

“Let’s do this,” Harry said, skipping in place to warm his body up before getting into his stance. His left leg was a few feet away from his right leg as he bounced around a bit, waiting for you. 

You faintly smirked, nodding your head before you put on the mitts. Since Harry was very familiar with the mitt workouts, you figured that you didn’t need to explain what each number represented since mostly all trainers and coaches use the same numbers for the same punch. 

“Okay, let’s warm up a bit. Give me one,” you instructed. Harry put his gloves up to protect his face as you held your right mitt up. With his left hand, he punched your mitt, not giving his full strength. “Is that all you got?” You challenged, knowing that he had more power in him. 

“I-I don’t want to hurt you,” he said honestly with a small pout, standing straight from his boxing stance. Usually, you would take offense to that statement, barking back a comment saying that just because you were a girl it didn’t mean you couldn’t take a hit, but you didn’t go that far into it, knowing Harry didn’t mean it that way whatsoever. 

“You’re not gonna hurt me, Harry. I’ve trained so many people—all with different body types and strengths. My hand has felt all different types of power, so hit the mitt like you mean it.” You hit his shoulder, building up his motivation. He nodded, getting back into his stance as did you. “Now, give me one.” 

This time, Harry’s glove met your mitt with full potential and force, and you took the hit well—not moving back or being stunned. 

“There you go! Keep going,” you told him, and he continued giving you jabs. ‘In Da Club’ by 50 Cent was blaring through the speakers as Harry breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. Several huffs of breath came out loudly as he punched, moving and dancing around the ring with you as the two of you occasionally shifted and switched positions. 

Harry got in a few more punches before you switched it up, telling him, “1-2.” Harry jabbed with his left hand and crossed jabbed with his right hand, putting his full range of motion into his right punch. He did that combination five times as he started to feel sweat dripping down his back and the sides of his forehead. 

You were yelling out words of encouragement and motivation, praising him for his punches, to which he responded back with a better and solid punch to your mitts. 

“Nice!” You took a step back to move around the ring to take advantage of the space as Harry jumped and skipped around to wherever you directed him to. “Wanna take a break?” You asked. He shook his head no, determined to finish this workout that he couldn’t even think about wanting to take a break because he really didn’t want to. “Okay, 1-4-3,” you told him. With force, he jabbed, hooked with his left hand, and hooked with his right hand. 

This feeling that he had felt—being in the ring with you—was something entirely different than when he was in the ring with Henson or Mike. The stress that he physically carried onto his shoulder had washed away into nothingness, leaving him with a drive that didn’t include overthinking and fear. The fear that had left him worried and depressed, that his life would amount to nothing—that fear disappeared inside him once he threw the first punch. It was exhilarating and fun, and he didn’t know he could have this much fun in the ring. But this was the most pleasure he’s ever felt while boxing. 

You ordered him to do some different combinations, such as ‘1-2-3-5,’ which was a jab, cross jab, leading hook, and rear uppercut. You also included moments when he had to duck because you were swinging at him. He definitely had gotten into a rhythm, punching and moving faster. You were the trainer, the person that was supposed to instruct him, but you matched his rhythm and energy and moved quicker with him as well. 

You were starting to get a sweat in as well, and that was mostly because of the adrenaline rushing through your blood as you moved excitedly around the ring. 

After a while, a timer had gone off, telling you that it was time to close up as Harry’s focus was cut off—the sound making him look up hastily. Throughout the time you were working out with Harry, people were slowly starting to make their way out, but the two of you were too focused on working out that you hadn’t even noticed that it was just the two of you left in the gym. 

“Oh, guess we’re closing.” You stood up straighter, wiping the sweat on your forehead with your forearm. “Feelin’ good?” You asked Harry with a proud smile. 

“Feelin’ great,” he smirked. 

“Good, I’m glad. You did great!” You complimented, ripping the velcro strap with your teeth as you took off the mitts. Harry did the same, shaking out his arms as he clenched and unclenched his fists to relieve the ache from making a fist for more than an hour. 

“Thank you. You’re a really great trainer, by the way. This was…the first time I had fun in the ring,” he told you honestly, and without knowing, the slightest bit of him had opened up to you. 

Your eyes brightened, a glimpse of shimmer reflected on your eyes. “Really? Thank you, that makes me really happy, actually.” You felt like you were going to cry on the spot. No one, except your younger students, had ever told you that they had fun in the ring since most people used boxing as a way to get stronger and improve their punches. But fun? That was the first, and you would definitely keep that with you forever. 

You and Harry walked to one end of the ring as Harry held open the top two ropes with his hand as he stepped on the bottom two ropes with his foot, holding it open for you to get out. You blushed, thanking him before you got out of the ring as he followed you out. 

Once you two were on the ground, you turned around to face him. You watched as he took off his beanie, shaking his hair out as they bounced; curls were now formed into waves because of the heat and the sweat that had produced in his beanie. He looked…extra good right now. With his cheeks flushed, hair messy, and sweat dripping down his forehead, you couldn’t put into words how incredibly sexy he looked. 

You cleared your throat, not wanting to get caught for ogling him. “I, uh, have to check on some things before closing. Take your time! And I’ll see you on Monday?” You raised your brows and curled your lips in as you looked up at him. A sense of flustered-ness settled in you as you waited for his answer. 

He breathed out a chuckle as he looked down briefly before looking back into your eyes again. “Yeah, I’ll see you.” You nodded your head, waving at him before you headed over to the office. Harry smiled as he watched you walk into the hallway until he couldn’t see you anymore. 

A small blush formed onto his cheeks as he contained himself from smiling too big and too wide. He put all of his stuff back into his bag, grabbing his towel, ridding the sweat off his skin. Grabbing his belongings, he took another glance at the hallway, hoping to get another look at you before he took off, but you were occupied with closing the gym, so he didn’t bother staying any longer. 

With a small smile on his face, he walked out of the gym, taking in this new profound feeling that he’d never felt before, hoping this feeling would last. 

The next morning, Harry had a sudden urge to go back to the gym. His upper body was quite sore, but he figured he could do some leg exercises to balance the soreness he felt. He normally wouldn’t workout on the weekends since those were his rest days, but despite being sore, he didn’t feel tired. It could also do with the fact that he wanted to see you again, not wanting to wait until Monday to do that again. 

When he walked into the gym, ‘Ride Wit Me’ by Nelly was playing and his head slightly bopped to the music, walking over to the corner of the gym to warm up. He scanned the gym, looking for a particular person, but couldn’t find you. There were a decent amount of people, not too crowded or too little, so it should’ve been easy to find you. Thinking that you were probably in your office, he shook off the slight disappointment and got ready to workout. 

Throughout his workout, his head wasn’t in it. He kept glancing through the mirror to see if you had shown up, but you hadn’t. His eyes were always looking over at the front door every time someone would walk in, but a small frown settled onto his face when he realized it wasn’t you. 

He wrapped up his workout an hour later, thinking that he somewhat still got a good workout in. He walked out of the gym, saying bye to some of the guys that had caught him before he left. 

It was nearing noon when his stomach had growled, urging him to consume some food. There was a Mediterranean hole-in-the-wall restaurant right across Don’s Box, and his mouth watered at the thought of it. He walked to his car that was parked on the side of the street to drop his bag off before walking across the street to the restaurant. 

He scanned the menu, standing on the side since he didn’t know what he was ordering yet. The sound of the door ringing and a voice that was speaking to him brought him out of his thoughts. 

“Are you in line?” Harry turned his head towards the voice, and his heart nearly beating ten times faster when he saw you. He had a shocked expression on his face, not expecting to see you, especially when you were wearing the complete opposite of what he normally sees you in. You were wearing a pair of blue denim overalls with a black t-shirt underneath, along with white Reebok sneakers. You had a bit of makeup on; an orange sparkly eyeshadow look with some mascara that made your eyelashes look full and natural. Your lips were painted in a red-orange lipstick stain, bringing out more of your natural lip color. 

The beauty that Harry’s eyes were blessed with made his knees weak, sending shivers to his skin. Your angelic appearance had struck him so hard that he was sure he would see the light of day, hoping to meet you up there since you were a real-life angel. 

“Y/N…hi,” he managed to spit out. 

“Hi, Harry. Did you just workout?” You asked. 

He nodded, feeling a bit nervous. “Uh, yeah, I did.” 

“You don’t usually go in on Saturdays…” you noticed, only seeing him during the weekdays. You’re off on Saturdays, but there was one Saturday that you had gone into the gym briefly, and you didn’t see him there. 

“Yeah, I felt like going in today,” he said, obviously leaving out the part that he only went to the gym to see you again, but you didn’t need to know that bit. There was a moment of silence between you two until Harry remembered that he was probably holding up the line for you. “Oh, you could go ahead. I’m not ready to order yet.” 

You smiled, nodding your head as you stepped forward in the line. “Have you ever been here before?” 

“No, I haven’t. Do you have any suggestions?” 

You slightly squinted your eyes at him. “Do you trust me?” You asked. 

That was a difficult question for him, and somewhat vague. Did you mean overall, at the moment, or for his food order? Either way, he nodded because he knew that it didn’t matter what you meant--he had this sense of security with you that he would trust you with his life, and that said a lot, considering that he’d only known you for a month. 

“Yeah, I do trust you,” he stated honestly. 

His words brought a grin to your face, looking at him appreciatively. Based on your observations of him, you noticed that he was a bit closed off; he didn’t open himself up, and if he did, it took a lot in him to do just that. So, hearing him tell you that he trusts you made you grateful, and you would never do anything to take advantage of that trust because he didn’t just give it out easily. 

“I got you,” you simply said before turning back around towards the cashier. Harry softly smirked as he took a step forward to stand next to you. You looked at him, flashing him a toothy grin before quickly facing forward. 

You ordered your favorite dish from the restaurant, which was a beef kabab plate, for the both of you. Harry quickly got his wallet out, offering to pay, but you told him that you got it this time, hoping your words conveyed that you wanted there to be a next time. He shyly thanked you for the lunch, keeping your words in mind because he would definitely be up for a ‘next time.’ 

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long for your order to come out, which was fortunate for Harry because he was starving. You suggested eating outside since it was a beautiful day out and Harry agreed, following you out of the restaurant. 

You two sat on the metal chairs, digging into your dishes. Harry’s mouth watered as he ate, his stomach being satisfied. There was a comfortable silence that settled between you two, only making small conversation when you asked if he liked the food, which you were glad to hear that he loved. 

“So, how long have you been running Don’s Box?” He suddenly asked, wanting to get to know you better. 

You raised your brows at his question. “For about two years now. My father, Don, opened the gym when he was twenty-five, that’s when he had me as well. But when he opened the gym, it practically changed his life. He’d boxed all of his life, and he was happy training other people when he started getting more people to come into his gym. When I was about six, he told me that he wanted me to run the gym when I turned twenty-five, only if I wanted to. But of course, I did. I looked up to him all of my life, and the gym made me happy as well,” you explained, smiling at the memory of when you were younger, being excited to turn twenty-five to do the same thing your father did. 

A soft smile appeared on Harry’s face as you reminisce on the memory. 

“How long have you been boxing?” 

“Since I was eight. Don showed me the ropes when I told him I was ready. There used to be a seating area on the side of the ring because when I was younger, I used to sit there and watch him work and train people. So, I was pretty interested and intrigued about fighting to get myself stronger, even at the young age of eight,” you chuckled. 

You were a daddy’s girl, always had been since you were born. Don had always set a pretty amazing example of how you should go about living your life. He would always say ‘Live your life with a strong punch. Keep your head up, and don’t let anything get to you because you’re so much more than what other people say. But if you need to cry, you can—there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.’ 

As your eyes watered from the thought of your father’s words, Harry watched as you got emotional and he couldn’t help but think that you’ve crossed a line in asking too many questions. 

“Sorry, I always get emotional-”

“I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped—I should’ve kept the questions to myself-”

“Oh, no! You didn’t overstep whatsoever. I’m glad you asked me those questions, I just get soft and emotional over my dad, so hence, I’m tearing up,” you let out a somewhat pathetic chuckle as you couldn’t believe that you almost cried in front of this gorgeous man. You dabbed the corners of your eyes with your napkin, stopping the tears from falling out. 

Harry nodded understandingly, waiting for you to regroup yourself. You kept apologizing, but he kept telling you that you had nothing to be sorry for. 

“Really, if you need to cry, you can…” he told you. Your eyes widened; you were just thinking about your dad’s words two minutes ago, and for Harry to say the exact same thing Don had always told you without even knowing that Don had said those words. 

Not wanting to cry in front of him, you simply nodded your head, holding the napkin on the outer corner of your eye, so the napkin would catch your tears. 

Harry quickly changed the subject, sensing that you needed it, and you really did, so you were grateful for that. He busied himself by telling you what his favorite ice cream flavor was since he was suddenly reminded that there was a shop just down the street. He kept you occupied by talking about all the sweet treats that he used to eat with his mom back home, and how much he missed walking down the streets in the city to eat some ice cream. 

“My mum used to make this really great chocolate mousse pie, and we would eat it every weekend. It was extremely sweet, but it was delicious. I really miss it…” he told you. That had been a while ago, but it was like he could still taste the dessert as if he just ate it yesterday. 

“Is your mom back home in England?” You asked, figuring that there wasn’t any harm in asking to get to know him since he asked you some questions as well. 

“Uh…actually, I don’t know where she is…” he said honestly, and you knitted your brows in confusion. “I mean, honestly. I don’t know where she is. Ever since I went to uni, she’s been all over the place, taking vacations and barely calling. I-I feel like she’s forgotten about me,” he spoke ever so softly as he was fragile. 

You listened to him intently, giving him your full attention as he was opening up a part of his life that you knew he doesn’t tell a lot of people. A part of him that he’s kept in for so long and just the passing sense of relief he felt saying those words and speaking up about this subject had made him feel so much better. 

“I’m sure she didn’t forget about you.” 

“Seemed like it. We inherited my grandfather’s will—left us a generous amount for each of us that’ll take care of us for the rest of our lives. And she took that and ran with it. I mean, I get it—she wants to live her life, and now’s the time to do that because she’s got the money for it, but I feel…abandoned. She got up, said goodbye, and just…left. It just makes me think that I’m not good enough—that I wasn’t good enough to stay.” Harry opened a can of worms that he can’t take back anymore. But the trust that he had in you already made him want to talk about everything with you; to open up about all of his stresses and insecurities. 

Boldly, you reached your arm across the table but immediately pulled away because you didn’t want to touch him without asking. But before you could open your mouth and ask, Harry had reached forward, meeting your hand halfway as his palm was facing up as if it was a way of saying ‘you can hold my hand if you want.’ Blushing, you reached forward again and took your hand into his. 

The touch was sweet and tender as you two held hands; the want to hold each other tighter was present, wanting to take away Harry’s pain. 

“Harry, you will always be good enough. I know we just met a month ago, but I already know that you’re the sweetest, kindest person. Please know that. You are enough, and I’m grateful that you’re here and that I’m sitting across from you, eating lunch,” you declared. Harry sniffled, not knowing what to say as he put his head down, so you continued. “For as long as we’re friends, I’m gonna stay.” You spoke with complete honesty as you caressed the back of his hand with your thumb. 

Harry’s head lifted up at your last statement in disbelief as if this was the first time someone had ever said that to him. 

“Really?” 

You squeezed his hand, making his heart flutter. “Yeah. As long as you want me to,” you reassured, nodding. 

Harry gave you a soft and appreciating smile as he took a deep breath. The breath that he held in throughout the entirety of the conversation was finally let out in relief. He shrunk back into his seat, still holding your hand as you continued rubbing it, and he breathed out a chuckle. It was an overwhelming feeling that was riddled with happiness and a sense of security washed over him. 

It was like he had been waiting for you; someone new that unexpectedly came into his life was scary because it was change, but it was a good change. A change for the better. He had been vulnerable enough to open himself up, and it all led to the tight bond and trust you two had with one another, sealing your friendship and relationship. 

And you both knew this moment was going to change everything. 

Time had passed by rather quickly as it was nearing the end of October. The weather was getting chillier as the sun was beginning to disappear behind the clouds earlier. There was something about the fall weather that Harry adored. It may have to do with the fact that the gloomy sky had occurred more often, or how he got to call it a night early. Whatever it may be, he liked it, or he used to. 

In recent times, he wanted the sun to stay out until it was time to go to bed. He wanted warm days instead of gloomy. His new changed attitude towards life had to do with you. 

You and Harry had been hanging out quite a lot; getting to know one another, getting a bite or drink, and working out together, it definitely gave Harry the chance to let go of his past. He was happier, smiled more, and laughed a lot which he didn’t know he was capable of doing those things again until he met you. 

Benny loved it, though. He sure cherished it because seeing his best friend happy again was something he was afraid he wouldn’t see again. But that didn’t stop him from having a little talk with you, trying to protect Harry and set you straight. 

When Harry was occupied with hitting the speed bag, Benny walked over to the ring, where you had just finished another class with your younger students. 

“Hey, Benny!” You greeted him once you saw him walk towards you. 

“Hey, do you mind chatting for a minute?” You raised your brows, nodding your head. Benny usually didn’t talk to you privately nor was it anything serious, but by the look on his face, it seemed pretty serious. “So, you’ve been hanging out with Harry a lot, hmm?” 

You smiled softly. “Yeah! Hope you don’t mind that? Know I’m taking your best friend and all…” 

“No, I don’t mind. I’m actually glad you are. He seems quite taken by you, and I haven’t seen him like that in a very long time,” Benny said honestly. You seemed to know where this conversation was going now, and now that you thought about it, you expected this from Benny because they were like brothers and Benny would do anything to protect Harry. “What I’m trying to say is…if you’re only hanging out with him to fuck with him, don’t bother. He’s been through enough, and I know he can’t handle anymore of that and I can’t stand to see him like that again.” 

“Like what?” You hesitatingly asked. 

“Like…just know that he was a mess. He couldn’t get up, eat, drink, shower, or anything. I had to physically help him. I don’t want to see him like that ever again.” Benny shook his head as if he was reliving the horrible nightmare that he went through a few years ago. 

“Is this about his mom?” 

“He told you that?” He asked, just to make sure, and you nodded. “Kind of. But that’s only half of it. He’ll tell you when he’s ready, but I’ve already said too much. Just…take care of him, okay? He tries to act tough sometimes, but he’s trying his best to not break down. Although, I haven’t seen that kind of look on him since he’s been hanging out with you, so you’re probably doing something right.” 

You nodded understandingly. “Thanks for talking to me. I don’t plan on breaking his heart at all, and I’m quite taken with him myself,” you admitted. 

“Good. I’m glad you are. He’s a great guy.” Benny smiled, and you agreed. 

Benny didn’t talk to you for much longer before he started getting cold from standing around, so he ended the conversation and went back to working out. 

Meanwhile, as you and Benny were talking, Don took the chance himself to talk to Harry, seeing as you were occupied. 

“Harry.” Don made himself present around him. 

Harry immediately stopped his workout, greeting your father. “What’s up, Don?” 

“So, I’ve noticed that you’ve been hanging around Y/N a lot.” Don’s stance changed as he crossed his arms, sporting a slight frown. Harry gulped; he always found Don to be quite intimidating, ever since he joined the gym, but Harry didn’t want to seem like he couldn’t have a serious conversation with the father of the woman that he’s slowly falling for--no, he couldn’t act like that. “What’s that all about?” Don added. 

“I’m just…we’re friends, so we’re just hanging out. Nothing more,” he told Don honestly. Although he would like there to be more, he didn’t know how you felt about him or if you even felt anything for him at all. 

Don nodded. He could tell that Harry was holding back on something he wanted to say, and he had an idea of what that was. So, he let loose of the intimidating and protective act, knowing that wasn’t really him anyway, and his expression softened as he uncrossed his arms. He placed a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder, taking a deep breath. 

“You have this look of wanting to say more and you don’t have to tell me, but I will tell you this…if you want to date her and go out with her, you can. This isn’t approval and a ‘yes’ for you to take her out because I don’t need to do that--she can make her own decisions. All I’m saying is that if you want to, go for it. Life is too fuckin’ short to not do anything, to not say anything.” 

Harry’s shoulders relaxed and he smiled in appreciation at Don’s words. “Thanks, Don. I definitely want to take her out, but I just don’t know how she feels about me.” 

“Oh, I’m pretty sure she feels something for you--she hasn’t told me, but I just know. You’re the first guy in a while that she’s been hanging around with consistently, and that comforts me, in a way. Knowing that she’s living her life and not holding back anymore.” Harry stayed silent, taking his words in. He tried not to overanalyze what Don had said because you’ll tell him and open up to him when you want to, just like how you’re patiently waiting for Harry to open up fully as well. “Just…don’t break her heart, okay? She’s been through enough and I just want her to be happy.” 

Harry nodded understandingly, saying a soft ‘okay’ before Don changed the subject and talked about how  Harry should train with him one of these days, which Harry immediately said yes to and they planned for the following week to train. Don left him to finish his workout, telling him to have a nice night as you and Harry were going out to dinner. 

Benny and Harry finished up their workout, and before they were able to head out the front door, Harry stopped, telling Benny to give him a minute. Harry fast-walked towards you, lugging his bag on his shoulder. You were coming out of your office, which was why Harry couldn’t say goodbye to you after his workout. 

“Hey, we’re heading out,” he said, wiping the bit of sweat on the back of his neck with his towel. 

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you later?” 

“Yeah, I’ll pick you up,” Harry suggested, pursing his lips into his mouth as he contained his smile. You nodded, eyes sparkling as you looked up at him. “I’ll, uh, page you,” he slightly smirked. 

“Okay,” you mindlessly responded as you were getting quite lost in his green eyes that looked at you intently with a gleam that sat so perfectly against his irises, making his eyes glimmer brightly.

He gave you one last smile and a little wave before walking out of the gym with Benny. You were left stunned as you stood there, completely drifted away from reality as you were in a dream about Harry. You felt a small nudge on your shoulder, causing you to snap out of your thoughts and dream as you turned around to see your father laughing. 

“Get back to work.” A smug plastered on his face. 

A breathy chuckle was released from your mouth as a hint of embarrassment emerged onto your face with wide eyes. You got back to work, focusing your attention on training your next client, but your mind was racing at the thought of Harry. 

As he promised, Harry paged you when he was outside of your apartment complex. He wanted to knock on your door like the proper gentleman that he is, but the buzzer machine to let people in wasn’t working, so paging you would have to do for now. He waited for you outside of his newly washed car, making sure it was nice and clean for you as he leaned against the passenger door. 

You walked out of your building, and Harry was immediately blown away. You were wearing a black skirt with stockings that hugged your legs, and a white knitted sweater since it was on the chillier side. 

Every time he saw you, his heart would beat incredibly fast, pulse pounding through his veins. His stomach was in flits of butterflies, soaring in his heart and stomach, making him extremely nervous. Every time he saw you, everything would stop, like you were the only person in the world and everything was okay. 

“Hey, H,” you flashed him your smile, one that he looked forward to every time he saw you. 

“H-Hi,” he stuttered, clearing his throat to start over. “Hi. You look really nice.” 

You blushed. “Thank you! You look great as well. Love this top.” You reached forward, lightly tugging at his red-orange knitted long-sleeve. He paired it with blue jeans that flared at the bottom with white sneakers. His fingers were covered in beautiful silver rings, making his hands look quite gorgeous. 

“Thank you, shall we?” 

“Yeah, oh, I got you something.” You reached into your bag to take out the cased CD, and before Harry was about to protest, you handed it to him. “I made you this mixtape. Just some songs that I think you’ll like—I’m sure you know all of them, but they just made me think of you,” you said shyly. 

You weren’t normally shy and you would call yourself a pretty strong and confident person, but you had been so nervous to give this to him—even making the tape left you anxious and shaking. 

“Wow, this is…very thoughtful of you. Thank you so much.” Harry looked at the CD with the songs written in your handwriting. There were 10 songs, and Harry knew all of them. They were all…romantic songs. 

“That’s not weird, right? Y’know, making you a mixtape?” You asked unsurely. The odd feeling had popped into your mind at the last second as you watched Harry observe the CD, not giving a bad nor good reaction to your gift. 

“No, not at all! I really appreciate this. No one has ever made a mixtape for me before, so this is really nice and special. Thank you again.” He reached forward, wrapping one arm around your shoulders as both of your arms found their way around his waist. You somewhat weren’t convinced that he liked it, and he could tell just by how you were looking at him--looking for some more reassurance--that it seemed like he didn’t like it. When he pulled away, he looked at you before saying, “Really, it makes me happy that you took the time to make this for me. It’s so sweet and thoughtful of you, and I already love all the songs on here, so I’m one-hundred-percent going to enjoy this.” 

You nodded, smiling softly as he opened the door for you and you thanked him, blushing as you got in. It seemed very much like a date and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of that. 

Harry drove to the sandwich shop that waited for you both. It was twenty minutes away on the other side of the town, but Harry had been raving about it so much to you that you told him that you two should go, which Harry was more than happy to take you. 

The sound of Boyz II Men filled the speakers of Harry’s car as the two of you sang your hearts out to ‘On Bended Knees,’ putting full emotion and passion into singing. You held up your water bottle, pretending that it was a microphone, and Harry kept shifting his gaze on you, trying to keep his eyes on the road, but also wanting to look at you as you sang. He smiled to himself, absolutely loving how you were so carefree--something that he admired about you. 

His heart fluttered, curling his lips into his mouth before he did something that was quite bold of him to do. Reaching over, he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers together. Your body was frozen, but you continued to sing, covering up the fact that Harry was holding your hand so casually. You were stiff as a board, so you tried loosening up, swaying your body from side to side, slightly averting your eyes towards him as he continued to drive. 

The moonlight cast through the car window, giving him a dim glow, accentuating his features; jawline prominent, his lashes shadowed down onto his cheeks, and his eyes were calm; the light reflecting against his glassy green eyes. Your heartbeat a million miles a minute as you looked at him. You had this appreciation and admiration for him--that you were lucky and grateful that you have him and that there was nothing more beautiful than the man sitting beside you. 

With your face on fire, you smiled as you carried on, singing with the warmth of Harry’s hand connected with yours. 

You were sitting across Harry, munching on your sandwich as you listened to him talk about how he wanted to actually find a job. He’s been sitting around, living quite wealthy as his inheritance sat safely. But he’d been getting bored. Every day was a routine for him and it was a pretty boring routine, he would say. The only places he really went to were the gym and the places that the two of you went together, but that was it. He needed a hobby, something that he could escape to that doesn’t require breaking a sweat from punching bags and mitts. 

“You said you like books, so maybe you could see if the bookstore down the street from the gym is hiring. That would be a nice little place to work at,” you suggested. 

Harry’s eyes lightened up, apart from thinking that was a great idea and the other part from being surprised that you remembered such a small detail about him when he’d talked about books briefly with you. 

“I should definitely do that, thank you. I love that bookstore, it’s-”

“Y/N?” Harry was interrupted by a man who had walked over to your table. Harry looked up, observing the guy as he was looking at you so intently. He quickly looked at you as you were looking up at the man with a shocked expression on your face, wide eyes and mouth slightly opened. 

“Uh, hi,” you said, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Your eyes glanced at Harry and he had a worried expression on his face, eyes asking if you were okay. You nodded softly, bringing your attention back to him. 

“I-I’ve been calling the gym and paging you, but you haven’t been answering any of them…” the man mentioned slyly. You were quite speechless, not expecting him to be here and not knowing what to say. 

“I, uh-”

“Can we talk right now?” He asked. You were flickering your eyes between Harry, someone that you were completely infatuated with, and the man that you were completely irritated with. But if you didn’t talk to him right now, he wouldn’t leave you alone and wouldn’t stop calling you, so you made the mistake of saying a soft ‘okay’ as you got up, looking over at Harry, giving a subtle smile. 

Just by the way he was looking at you, you knew you had regretted your decision and you wished that you hadn’t given in so easily. 

Once you were outside, you crossed your arms, in a way to seem reserved and closed off, but in reality, you really were. The uncomfortableness you felt was something you haven’t felt in a while as it felt like your stomach was boiling as bile salivated your mouth. Your fists were hidden underneath your arms, clenching, and your lips were curled into your mouth to immediately spew inappropriate sayings and vile remarks. 

“What do you want to talk about?” You asked, brows pinched together. 

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for quite a while now, but I just wanted to talk. I hate how we ended things…” he said remorsefully. You tried not to fall for the pouty look he was giving you as if he knew quite well you would fall for it. 

“It’s been six months, Max,” you reminded him. You and Max had an ugly breakup, and you had been picking up your own pieces yourself. You two had been together for nearly a year until he started to act differently. Noticing that he was going home late, staying at the bars until the early hours of the morning, and being quite rude and dismissive towards you, it ended in a screaming match where he ended up spitting out rude comments at you--calling you ugly, useless, and boring. It also caused him to confess that he was cheating on you for half the time you were together with him, and you thought that was a lie he made up just to make you angry, but a month after the breakup, you had found out that was true because you had accidentally bumped into the girl he was cheating on you with. At the time, you couldn’t blame him because the girl was absolutely gorgeous and seemed a lot of fun, but now, you know your worth and you absolutely didn’t deserve that whatsoever. 

For six months, you hadn’t seen him, but he had been leaving you countless calls to the gym phone. However, Max wouldn’t dare to step foot in the gym ever again because Don had clearly threatened him when he saw Max on the street, pinning him up against the brick wall by his shirt and yelling in his face that if he ever came close to you or the gym ever again, he wouldn’t see the end of the day. 

Don would’ve lost his shit if he saw Max in front of you. 

“This is pointless. I was fine living my life for the past six months without you. In fact, I haven’t even thought about you until you showed up. Couldn’t you see I was doing just fine? Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Your tone was scornful, not wanting to be in front of him anymore but instead the lovely man inside. 

“I just assumed you wanted some sort of closure…” 

“If I wanted closure, then I would’ve called you. But I don’t need closure. I was doing okay-” 

“With who? That man inside the restaurant?” He interrupted, brows raised. His demeanour suddenly changed just because you had given him the slightest bit of attitude. Max went from soft, wanting forgiveness to the Max that you saw last--completely offensive, rude, and a dickhead.  

“Yeah, his name is Harry, by the way. I was doing okay until you showed up!” You rolled your eyes, making your way back inside to Harry, who was waiting for you inside. 

Of course, Max wasn’t done until he got the last word, so he yelled out, “You know, whatever you’re doing with him, he’s gonna leave you; just like how I left you.” You slowly turned around, heart aching as his words had definitely done something this time. “You think Harry cares about you Y/N? Think again, he’s gonna leave you and you’re gonna be alone. You’re nothing, Y/N--not without me, at least. You aren’t worth anything, and you had to take over your dad’s gym to feel like you are. Stop fooling yourself.” 

Your eyes watered, trying your hardest not to let them slip from your eyes. You had already felt weak tearing up in front of him, so you couldn’t imagine what he would think if you bawled your eyes out. Suddenly, you heard the bell above the restaurant door chime. You didn’t bother turning around, but you somehow knew that it was Harry who was behind you. 

“Everything alright here?” Harry asked warily, eyes pointed towards you. 

“Yeah, man. See you, Y/N.” With that, he walked away, hopefully for good. Harry knew everything wasn’t alright with how you’re ready to burst into tears. As much as he wanted to follow him, force an answer out of him as to why you were in such distress, he was more worried about you. 

Standing in front of you, Harry placed an arm on your shoulder, his other hand held the brown paper bag that had both of your leftovers as he didn’t want to eat without you. Your body was tense, not because of Harry’s touch but because of the words that had taken such an effect on you, and you were doing everything to not break down in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“Hey, you okay?” Harry asked softly, bending down slightly to look you in the eyes. Your eyes were pointed down at the ground, thinking that if you looked Harry in the eyes, you were going to break. 

“Uh, c-can you take me to the gym, please?” You asked once you fully gained the courage to speak, but your voice was shaky. 

Harry immediately nodded. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Let’s go.” He put his arm around your shoulders and you comfortably nuzzled into his side as he guided you to his car. 

The drive back was silent—the complete opposite from the drive to the restaurant. Instead of happiness radiating out of your bodies, the space felt gloomy. Harry’s mind had spiraled as he drove, thinking about what that man could have possibly said to you. He was torn between wanting to be angry, but he was more concerned for you because you had never been this silent before. 

Once Harry was in front of the gym, you immediately got out before he was able to turn off the car. Using your keys, you unlocked the front door, turning off the alarm system before throwing your purse, not caring where it landed and rushed towards the heavy bags. 

This was where you let all your anger out. The place where you screamed at the top of your lungs with no care on who might hear you. This was your safe space, and if someone was going to judge you for utilizing your safe space, then they didn’t belong there. 

You screamed, punched, and kicked the heavy bag with full force as your tears had streamed down your face. Your heart was beating painfully with every scream you forced out of your body. Your punches were solid, making the bag swing back and forth, but your knuckles were starting to redden because you didn’t wrap your hands. 

Harry quickly followed you, a frown plastered on his face as he watched you let your anger out all on the heavy bag. He let you do your thing, watching from the sidelines before he waited for the right moment to cut in. 

“You. Fucking. Stupid. Piece. Of. Shit,” you yelled out with every punch. You sniffled, continuing to punch the bag, eyes glossy from your endless amount of tears. 

The friction from the leather and your bare skin was rubbing against each other, cutting and peeling open your skin. Your hands had numbed the pain, so you carried on with your punches until Harry had wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest and away from the heavy bag once he started to see redness and blood scattered onto your knuckles. You screamed, your body protesting, wanting to continue punching, but you knew you didn’t have any more energy. 

Turning around in his arms, your face was met with his chest, sobbing into his shirt. Harry’s hands soothed your back, comforting you as his heart ached from the sadness you radiated. Your bloody hands clutched his shirt as you cried, tears staining his shirt. Your whines and whimpers filled the empty gym, echoing back at you. 

Everything hurt—your heart, eyes, body, and your hands were now starting to sting. Harry held you tighter, carefully taking a seat onto the ground and bringing you down with him. You sat in between his legs and your head rested on his shoulder. 

After a moment, he felt you calm down and your body physically relaxed. Mindlessly, his hand brushed your hair back from your forehead, pressing a kiss to your skin. Harry hadn’t realized he did that until he pulled away and he hoped he hadn’t crossed a line by doing that. But when he kissed your forehead, you pulled him closer, burying your face into his neck. 

“Talk to me—tell me what you need, angel,” he said softly, wanting to help and be there for you. The nickname had completely slipped out as he’d been calling you that in his head. He’d never seen you break down at all, so this was very new to him. 

You shook your head, nickname going over your head. “Nothing. Just you.” 

Harry nodded his head, heart fluttering at your words as he held you tighter. He continued to soothe your hair and back as he heard you sigh deeply at the comfort. Looking down at your hands, he realized they were still bloody and cut up, and he knew that your cuts needed to be treated as soon as possible. 

“Can I take care of your hands? I’m still gonna be close, just wanna bandage you up.” You sniffled, nodding your head. Harry slightly smiled, carefully getting up before helping you up. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, first asking you where the first aid kit was, and you two walked to one of the offices to get the kit before going to the restroom. “Wanna sit?” He asked, patting the cold counter. Nodding your head, you placed your hands on the counter, but he quickly stopped you, taking off his jacket for you to sit on. 

“Thank you,” you softly said to him gratefully before jumping to sit on the counter. 

Harry opened the box that contained multiple and different types of bandages, an instant cold pack, thermometer, antiseptic wipes, and scissors. Harry washed his hands well before grabbing the antiseptic wipe and ripping it open. He situated himself between your legs, gently grabbing your hand to rest on his. He looked up at you, first asking you if it was okay to start, and when you said yes, he slowly and carefully started to wipe the area around the cut. 

You watched him as he cleaned your cuts; he was so focused on wiping the blood that stained your skin and was careful not to press too hard because you were starting to bruise already. As you watched him, you felt immensely grateful. It’d been a while since you had a true friend that would help you with anything and take care of you. Your feelings for him had skyrocketed, heart pounding so loud you could feel it in your ears. 

“The guy at the restaurant was my ex-boyfriend, Max,” you suddenly said. Harry looked up at you to let you know that he was listening as he continued to clean your hands. “It was a bit of a messy breakup; he called me names, insulted me, and confessed that he was cheating on me. When I saw him at the restaurant, that was the first time since the breakup, and it was like I relived that day again.” 

“Did he say anything to you?” Harry asked, holding back his anger because he knew the answer,  Harry watched through the window the entire time and noticed your posture and demeanor change, causing Harry to quickly pay and rush outside just in case anything happened. 

“Y-Yeah.” Your voice croaked. “Said I didn’t amount to anything—that I wasn’t anything without him-”

“That’s bullshit, Y/N-”

“I’m so mad at myself.” Tears were forming in your eyes again as you looked down at your lap. Redness brimmed your eyelids as you sniffled. 

“What? Why?” Harry asked confusingly. 

You shook your head at yourself. “For years, I’ve been training—learning how to defend myself for when I need it. I was raised to have a strong mindset, to not take shit from anyone because Don told me not to. But when he came around, I didn't say a word, let alone move a muscle. I hate how he made me weak. I hate how I didn’t stand up for myself.” Your voice was shaky and your tears streamed down your face as you paused for a moment. “He told me that you were gonna leave me just like everyone else in my life did,” you added. 

Harry was seething, breathing in through his nose as his face hardened. He masked his anger because his priority was to comfort you, so he tried to let go of his anger for a moment. 

“Listen to me.” He placed his hands on the outside of your legs, bending down to look you in the eyes. Your glossy eyes looked at him, a small pout on your face. “You’re the strongest person I know, alright, angel?” This time, you heard the pet name loud and clear, making your heart do backflips. “You didn’t let him walk all over you, no, you’re much more mature than him to ever start something. He wanted to see you angry, and frustrated. He wanted to add fuel to the fire, and you didn’t give him the satisfaction. You aren’t weak at all. You’ve got a strong heart, and I’m sure that punch of yours to his nose would damage it for good.” 

You breathed out a chuckle at his last statement, nodding, knowing he was right. Harry smiled, dimples showing proudly as he wiped the tears that were falling from your eyes. Giving him a half-smile, you leaned forward, pressing your face against his collarbones. He stood up straight to wrap his arms around your back. You daringly placed a kiss onto the exposed skin that was peeking out from his shirt. Harry’s face warmed up at the touch that was so soft and delicate, yet felt like it was burning through his skin. You pulled away, looking up at him as you thanked him. 

Your eyes darted between his eyes and his lips as your face was just inches away from him. His face was delicate and his beauty shined over the darkness of the world. It was as if he didn’t seem real like you couldn’t believe someone so beautiful and breathtaking was standing right in front of you. You studied every curve, movement, and freckle on his face as they all very well defined him, heightening your admiration with every look of his perfections and imperfections. 

Harry blushed under your stare, clearing his throat as he felt nervous. He pulled his face away a tad bit, offering you a small smile. “Of course. Always gonna be here for you. Now, let me just finish cleaning your hands before taking you home.” 

You nodded, letting him finish with his task. His hands were gentle as he wrapped the bandage around your hand. Your heart was filled with so much admiration and gratitude that you simply wouldn’t know what to do if Harry weren’t there today. The growing feelings had taken over your heart and mind that you were a bit scared, but nonetheless, you let them take over. 

Harry sat at the bar next to Benny, nursing a beer he had ordered ten minutes ago. It had been a while since they hung out together, but that was because Benny was trying to get his wife pregnant, so when Marianne calls, they spent their time baby-making. The other reason was that Harry was spending most of his time with you, which he loved every minute of. 

“So, a little bird told me that you’ve been going to the gym on Saturdays now,” Benny mentioned, a hint of tease in his tone. 

Harry chuckled. “Really? And who told you that?” He asked, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Starts with a D and ends with an N,” Benny laughed, giving you the obvious answer. 

“Well, I’ve been going in on Saturdays because Don always schedules our training sessions on Saturdays. Nothing else,” he slightly lied. After his first training day with Don, Harry told Don that he wanted to continue training with him because he gets a good workout with him rather than by himself, hitting the heavy bag or speed bag, so Don always scheduled for Saturdays since those were the easiest days. 

But other than the training sessions, he also got to see you on Saturdays, which he really enjoyed because sometimes after his workout, you two would grab a bite to eat or plan to hang out later that day. He liked it, he liked you. 

“Hmm, interesting. It doesn’t have to do with a particular trainer who also happens to own the gym?” Benny raised his brows. 

“Not really into Don, to be honest,” Harry joked, bouncing around Benny’s question. They both laughed, slamming their hand on the bar top. 

“Really, though. I’m happy for you. You’ve been in such a happier mood, and that’s all I want—is for you to be happy. She’s doing a great job,” Benny said honestly. Seeing his friend happy after everything he’s been through had lifted a certain weight off of his shoulders, and it seemed like he didn’t need to worry about Harry. 

Harry simply nodded, smiling as words weren’t necessary. He always felt like Benny was always concerned about him, and although he appreciated him being worried, he didn’t need to anymore because Harry was finally feeling much happier than he was before. 

“There you are.” A voice was suddenly heard next to Harry along with a hand on his shoulder. Harry tensed up, and he hadn’t in a while, but he knew that wasn’t your voice nor was it your touch. Harry turned his head to the side to find Lizette sitting on the stool next to him, giving him a smug smile. He didn’t say anything but look at Benny, and saw his eyes narrow, confused as to why Lizette was here. “I’ve been calling your home and paging you. Why haven’t you been answering me?” She pouted. 

Harry knew that pout all too well. She used it to trick you into saying yes to her and getting what she wanted, but Harry was stronger than that now; he knew how to hold his ground. 

He hadn’t seen Lizette ever since the week before he joined Don’s Box. With all of his time spent with you, he hadn’t really thought about Lizette, if he’s being honest. You had fully taken every inch and space of his mind that it was maximum capacity, but he still found a way to make space from the invading thoughts of you. 

“Just been…busy, Lizette, that’s all,” he said, not giving her his full attention as he looked at his bottle. 

“Too busy for me?” 

“Yeah, something like that.” He didn’t want to outright be rude to her because naturally, Harry was a kind and thoughtful man, so he kept his harsh thoughts to himself. 

She inched closer to Harry, close enough to where her mouth was against his ear as she whispered, “Well, since I so happened to run into you, how about we go back to yours?”

Harry took a deep breath. He felt like he was his old self again—making impulsive and not so thought out decisions that end up fucking him and his emotions over in the future. Being with Lizette was something, and it helped make him feel a little less lonely, even though she immediately left right after she got what she wanted. 

But Harry hadn’t felt lonely at the moment and in months. He had his best friend next to him, having a drink, and he had you. He wasn’t lonely at all. So, why was he getting off the stool and putting his coat on before closing his tab for the night? 

Benny’s eyes widened, looking at Harry as if he was asking what the actual fuck was he doing. Harry simply shrugged, patting his friend on the back before following Lizette out of the bar. The air was cold, but it wasn’t a delightful cold that he wanted to be in. It almost seemed kind of eerie as the gray clouds hovered over them. 

Lizette hugged Harry’s arm. “I’m glad you agreed.” She leaned up to kiss his cheek, but he immediately pulled away, taking his arm out of her hold. 

“You should go home,” he told her. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out as she was confused. “Get a ride home. I’m not taking you home nor am I going with you. I don’t want to do this anymore, Lizette.” 

“But you came with me-”

“That didn’t mean I was saying yes to your offer. I came out here with you to get you off of me and not embarrass me in front of my friend and the entire bar.” Harry’s voice was stern as he crossed his arms. “I know you’ve never really cared about me, so please just do me a favor and leave. I’m happier now-”

“You’re happier? With some other girl, huh?” Harry nodded and Lizette rolled her eyes, expression annoyed as she was beginning to get angry and defensive. “You think she cares? Guess what, Harry, she doesn’t. She’s gonna leave you just like your mom left you, your ex-girlfriend left you. Remember when she fucked your best friend in college? That she left you to be with him? And look at them now, they’re married! They don’t give a single fuck about you! What makes you think that this girl you’re seeing does?” 

Lizette had definitely hit a nerve. Harry had gone four years without hearing the story on how his ex left him for one of his friends from uni. The situation was quite sad, and it left Harry in pieces. Not to mention, Lizette was his ex’s best friend and she somehow seduced him into regularly having sex with her, which wasn’t entirely her fault because Harry was lonely and needed to feel something to fill the void of his loneliness. 

“Don’t think you’re so easy to love, Harry. It takes a lot of effort to do that, especially with you. You’re gonna continue being scared and closed off, and people are gonna continue to run away-”

“Harry?” Lizette was suddenly interrupted by you. You were walking to the bar because Benny had invited you, thinking that it would’ve been a nice surprise for Harry and to hang out with just the three of you. But you had seen Harry and some woman on the street and his face looked angry. “Uh, hi.” 

You turned towards the unknown woman as she looked you up and down before turning towards Harry, raising her brows as she figured out who you were and who Harry had been spending so much time with. 

Harry completely blocked you out, his attention was towards the statements Lizette had made. He had been doing so much better, and all of a sudden the relapse hit him ten times harder, like his accomplishment of being okay with himself completely disappeared. 

 Was he that hard to love? He knew that he pushed people away, that’s for sure, but he didn’t realize that it was difficult to love him. Harry then thought about the people that had left him because they didn’t love him enough to stay. His ex left him for his friend, it seemed like his mum had forgotten about him, and soon enough, Benny was gonna get tired of him and so were you. 

“And you are?” You asked, scowling at the woman in front of you. Lizette smirked, seeing as there was an opportunity right in front of her. She didn’t find you 

intimidating whatsoever. 

“Oh, guess Harry didn’t tell you, but we’ve been sleeping with each other for years. Friends with benefits, if you will,” Lizette answered with some sass and a snarl to her tone as she watched your expression turn into a hurtful one. 

Your face had softened as your eyes welled up with tears, but you didn’t dare let them fall. You looked at Harry and it seemed like he was in his head, but you had no clue he was ‘seeing someone.’ It felt like you had been cheated on, even though going out as friends didn’t mean anything to a fuck buddy. All of the moments you spent with him—the laughs, storytelling, training, and tension-filled moments had connected you both to one another. It made you feel special that you were seeing a side of Harry that no one else had, but you were wrong. 

“Guess you’re the new girl he’s seeing?” 

“What’s it to you?” Your brows knitted. 

Lizette shrugged. “Nothing. Just know that Harry’s difficult and loveless. So, just get out while you can.” She reached over to touch your shoulder, but you quickly stepped back before she could. She was talking as if Harry wasn’t right next to you two, and if this was a ‘women looking out for women’ type of situation, you weren’t going to accept it because she outright just insulted Harry. 

You were livid as your eyes turned dark, stepping closer to her. “Stay away from him, or I swear to god-”

“Or what? What are you gonna do?” Lizette challenged, stepping closer. She was slightly taller than you since she wore four-inch leather boots.

“Wanna find out? Next time I see you with him or hear you talk shit about him again, then you’ll find out because I can guarantee you’ll never see the light of day.” You held eye contact with her as she looked at you with such fierce emotion. 

“Cute. Harry’s got a little bodyguard,” she scoffed, stepping back. “I should go,” Lizette suddenly said, breaking you out of your heartbreaking thoughts. “I’ll call you,” she told Harry, despite what you had just said. It seemed like he wasn’t even listening as his blank stare was trained onto the ground. She walked away, her heels clicking against the cement. The satisfaction she felt right now felt good, knowing her words had definitely affected you both. 

When Lizette was far enough, you turned back towards Harry. This time, he was looking at you in a confused state, and it didn’t seem like him. 

“I-I didn’t know you were seeing someone-”

“You should go…” he said straightforwardly. You raised your brows as you were taken back. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“You should leave. For good. Get out of my life while you can. I promise I won’t get mad.” His voice cracked and was shaky. He couldn’t even look you in the eye while he was talking because he knew that would break his heart even more, especially if you were to actually leave for good. The negative thoughts had taken over, and this was what he did—pushing people away and giving them a way out before they realized that Harry wasn’t a lovable or worthy enough person to stay around for. 

“What makes you think I’m going anywhere?” You questioned confusingly. You wondered if he even thought about the conversation you two had a few moments ago when you had told him that you were staying for good. 

“They all do, anyway. They all leave and they never come back.” His voice was starting to raise slightly, frustration and anger pouring out of his veins as his eyes were starting to tear up. A pout remained on your face as you watched the distress never leave his angelic face. “Just please go.”

“I’m not going anywhere-”

“Why won’t you-”

“Because I care! Why don’t you get that?” You raised your voice, not too loud to startle him, but enough to convey your emotions and frustrations to him. 

“Because you’re going to eventually! You’re gonna leave and use me and never love me. I’m used to it, so you could go now!” Harry was starting to cry, light sobs were coming out of his mouth as he was trying to hold them back. You took a step forward, wanting to comfort him as your heart broke at the sight, but he stepped back, not wanting your touch. 

Your heart sank when he stepped back away from you because he had never done that before. You two were always comfortable with one another that both of your touches had felt like security. Your tears had streamed down your face, quickly wiping them. 

“Harry, I’m not gonna leave…” 

“It’s fine. You don’t know what it’s like for someone to leave and never come back. You don’t know what it’s like to feel completely loveless that someone physically had to get out of your life and not want to be in it anymore. You don’t know what it’s like!” He spoke firmly as he cried, tugging his curly locks in frustration. 

“I don’t know what it’s like?” You spoke loudly, and Harry looked up at you. “I know exactly what it’s like because my own mother left me when I was eleven-years-old, and I have no idea why!” You vented, sniffling. “You don’t think I know what it’s like to constantly wonder what you’re doing wrong because the people that were supposed to be there for you completely vanished? Because I do! I know that feeling quite well. So, don’t tell me I don’t know shit because it seems like we’re in the same boat.” 

Harry was speechless. Sure, you two had been close and had talked about your lives and childhood, but this was something that you two had to dig deep for because it wasn’t something you regularly spoke about nor did you tell new people that you’d just met. 

“I-I’m sorry I had no idea…” 

“You couldn’t have had any idea, Harry. But just know that that day my mom left me still confuses me. The look on my dad’s face when he told me that mom left still haunts me. The crying I did since I was eleven hurts me because she didn’t love me enough to stay.” 

“Y/N…” 

“It’s fine, I get it. I know we’ve known each other for only a few months, but I did not expect this from you, especially because of all that we’d talked about. I’d say I’m the newest person in your life but I’m also the closest, besides Benny. So, don’t shut me out.” Your heart was beating through your chest and all of your emotions began to pile up like they were leaves, falling from the branches of the trees. 

Harry looked defeated, knowing that you were right. He sniffled, not knowing what else to say because all he felt was a painful feeling in his chest since Lizette had gone up to him at the bar. 

When he didn’t say anything, you just nodded, knowing that it was best to give him some space so he could realize that you were here for him and that you weren’t going anywhere. 

“Call me when you wanna talk…” you told him before turning around. Harry watched you—he knew that he should go after you, not be scared and let you in, perhaps tell you that he’s practically in love with you, but he doesn’t move, feet glued to the ground. 

When you were only a few feet away, you turned back around, knowing that you hadn’t gotten your final words out yet. Harry looked up when he heard footsteps approaching him. 

“Fuck whatever people say to you; trying to degrade and bring you down because whatever they say, it’s not true. I will always be there to defend you, Harry. Don’t think I won’t be because I will always be on your side.” You paused for a moment. Your heart was fully opening and was beginning to be vulnerable. Trying not to let it overwhelm you, you continued. “Don’t think you’re not easy to love because you are. You’re extremely easy to love, y’know that? I would know because…I love you. And that’s crazy to say because we’ve only known each other for a short period of time, but I can’t help what I feel. So, there you go.” 

Before Harry was able to say anything, you walked away, and he could hear you sniffling and crying. Harry’s mouth was ajar, completely speechless and shocked, but his heart fluttered as he took in your words. You really loved him, he thought. No one had said those words and really meant them or they hadn’t felt real to him when he heard them, so the shock that he felt was new. 

You were far enough where Harry couldn’t see you. He hadn’t even moved an inch, and he knew that later on, he was going to be very disappointed in himself for not chasing you down and telling you that he loved you too. But for now, he needed to take it all in and hope that when he did tell you, it wouldn’t be too late. 

Taking a deep breath, you walked inside to your apartment, sniffling as you went straight to the bathroom to take a long and hot shower. Before you left your place to go to the bar, you had been contemplating your appearance because you wanted to look good. Nerves were all over your body as you were getting ready, and you sulked at how the events had completely turned tonight around. 

When you were out of the shower and changed, ready to get into bed despite the night only being nine in the evening, your pager beeped. Picking it up off the bedside table, the message was sent from Harry, reading ‘143.’ You raised your brows, reading it again and reading it once more. Your heart was pounding, studying the numbers to make sure you read them right. The simple code for ‘I love you’ was printed on your pager and you wanted to scream. 

Before you could actually scream, there was a knock on your door. You walked quickly, opening it as Harry was standing behind it, holding his pager out as he smiled softly at you. You had just finished crying in the shower, so your eyes were red and a tad bit swollen, but you were close to crying again because of how overwhelmed you felt. 

“Did you mean it?” You asked hesitantly, holding your pager up. 

“Of course I do. Did you mean it?” He retaliated back, wondering if you meant your three words as well. 

“Of course I mean it, Harry. Why wouldn’t I?” You asked, wiping the tear that had slipped down your face. 

“Because I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much that it hurts,” he claimed in one breath, feeling the tension and weight that he held in his shoulders release. “You’re everything to me, and you make my world less frightening. I just see your pretty smile and my day completely turns into a great one. I don’t wanna waste a day not telling you that now, and it feels pretty damn good to say it.”

You slightly nodded until you remembered one of your concerns earlier. “What about Lizette?” 

“Lizette was someone I used to sleep with. I haven’t seen her nor slept with her in months—before I even met you, I promise. And I’m sorry for assuming that you didn’t know what it felt like for someone to leave and that you had to tell me under those circumstances. But just know, that I’m not gonna leave, unless you tell me to, that is.” Every bit of him was opening up and he wasn’t hiding away. He was being completely vulnerable and it had scared him a bit, but when his words came out, he felt himself get better. 

You looked at him through your glassy eyes, vision blurred for a moment until you adjusted them and clearly saw the gorgeous man in front of you. His eyes were filled with tears as well, and you thought, how could someone still look so pretty while they cried? But that was Harry for you; someone who was genuinely beautiful no matter what. Someone who had a heart of gold and a flashing smile that made your heart swoon and knees weak. 

You simply reached your hand out and Harry walked towards you, into your apartment as he came close to your face as your bodies were pressed up against one another. The back of his fingertips gently brushed the side of your face, admiring the beauty that stood before him as he opened his heart up completely, not wanting to go another day without saying those three words back to you. 

The corners of your lips turned up and your tears were replaced by happy ones. You had walked away from Harry after you said I love you because he was looking at you like he had seen a ghost, not a friendly one, but more of a scary one. So, hearing those words were just music to your ears. 

“You mean that? That you love me?” You wanted to hear it again and again and again. 

“Ever word. I love you, angel,” he repeated, adding your nickname. He pressed his forehead against yours, inches away from your lips. 

“Never stop calling me that,” you instructed him, smiling. The first time he had said it, you came to the conclusion that you absolutely loved hearing that name come out of his mouth, especially if it was specifically for you. 

“Only if you never stop telling me that you love me,” he slightly smirked, dimples poking out. He was so immensely happy that his heart could burst just because of the love that he felt for you. 

You giggled. “I love you, baby-” 

“I, uh, wait. Do you mind…not calling me that?” He hesitated, and you raised your brows confused. “Someone else called me that, and I just don’t like hearing it. Never have since it came out of her mouth,” he explained shyly. 

A sudden realization came to your face as you realized that Lizette probably called him that. “Okay. I won’t call you that, ever…darling.” Harry’s lips began to slowly turn up, already liking that name so much better than the other one. He hugged you; and you smiled, closing and opening your eyes to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Your arms snaked around Harry’s waist as he cradled your delicate face in his hands. 

“Never stop calling me that,” he repeated your words as you two smiled and laughed until your jaws started hurting. 

His eyes flickered down to your lips and back up to your eyes. You pursed your lips, blushing as you watched his eyes glance back up and down. You rubbed the tip of your nose against his, pulling him closer; hearts beating in sync as butterflies filled your stomach. 

He brushed his lips against yours before fully connecting them, feeling every spark and shiver that traveled down his spine. You smiled into the kiss as the softness of his lips moved and molded against yours, feeling completely in bliss. The way his lips slotted perfectly with yours made you saturated and dizzy off of his love and touch. Butterflies were still in your stomach, but they were calm like they had been fluttering around for this moment, his touch, in order to relax. 

Pulling back, he smiled down at you, eyes love-struck, before giving you another kiss, and pulling away and kissing you again once more. 

“Kissing you is my new favorite thing,” he stated, drunk off kisses. You breathed out a giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck as you breathed in his scent. You felt his breath against your neck, feeling completely happy and content in each other’s arms. 

There was no fear in the air; just the two of you with open hearts and arms, welcoming in the new and profound feeling that you both took in, knowing that it’s going to change everything for the better. 

You pulled him inside and Harry kicked the door closed with his foot. His arms were holding you tight as you walked back to your bedroom. Opening your mouth slightly, Harry took the chance to meet your tongue with his, swiveling and tasting each other causing a shiver to run down your spine. 

You pulled back when Harry laid down on the bed, taking in the gushy feeling you had as you smiled. 

“Want you,” you simply stated. 

“You have me, angel.” 

“I know, but I want you. Need you,” your eyes pleaded for his touch, to feel him inside of you, for him to make you feel good. You desperately craved for his hands on all of you, his mouth kissing every inch of your skin, and his love passionately pouring out of his veins. 

Harry nodded, smiling. “Need you too. Need you forever,” he said, connecting your lips again as he hovered over you. 

You two kissed for a while, giggling against each other’s lips and having his weight on top of you as your hands roamed his back. You bucked your hips into his, feeling the hard-on that was growing in his pants, which made Harry grind into your center, moaning softly into your mouth. 

“Please do something,” you said, and he nodded, getting off of you before taking his jacket and shirt off swiftly. His tattoos were showcased in front of you and all you wanted to do was kiss every single one of them. “You’re beautiful, Harry,” you complimented, and he blushed, a soft ‘thank you’ came out of his mouth. Next was his pants, and before he was able to take his briefs off, you stopped him, telling him that you wanted to do it. 

You got off the bed, switching positions with him as you were now standing up as Harry laid down on the bed. You smiled, eyes glancing all around his body. He suddenly felt shy and intimidated under your stare, but he knew he had no reason to be because you were simply admiring him. This time around when it came to physically be vulnerable with someone, he knew he didn’t have to worry anymore when it came to you. 

You took off your lilac nightgown, exposing your body to Harry’s eyes. Your nipples had hardened due to the exposure to the cold. His eyes glimmered as he gazed at your stunning and beautiful body. Every curve and inch was something he tried to remember, and he was quite speechless at the sight. He reached out, gently grabbing your hips as he roamed his hands up your body and to your breasts, grabbing both in each of his hands. 

He looked up at you and you smiled down at him as he placed his mouth on your left pebbled nipple, sucking and licking it as his hand fondled with the other. You laced your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp as he did so, switching over to your right nipple. 

Harry pulled away, looking at you. “You’re an actual angel. You’re so beautiful.” 

“Harry…” you blushed. 

“You are, angel. So beautiful. Can’t believe I get to see you like this.” He kissed the valley of your breasts and down your stomach before getting up and pushing you down onto the bed with ease. He settled in between your legs, arms hooked under your thighs. 

Continuing kissing down your stomach, he reached the hem of your underwear, looking up at you before asking, “Can I take these off? Wanna make you feel good—the same way you always make me feel good.” 

“Please. Take them off. Wanna feel your mouth on me,” you pleaded as your arousal heightened. You wrapped your legs around his back, eagerly pulling his head towards your center, making Harry let out a chuckle. 

“Easy, angel. Not going anywhere.” Harry kissed your stomach once more before pulling off your beige underwear. You were glistening below him; you made a complete mess in your panties. “Fuck, you’re so wet. This all for me?” 

“Mhm. All for you, Harry, please,” you whispered impatiently. Harry’s dirty talk had only increased your need for him as it was quite surprising to see this side of him since he was more on the shy and reserved side outside, but nonetheless, you loved both sides—you loved him. 

Harry leaned down, pressing multiple kisses to your inner thighs, nibbling on the skin gently. You bucked your hips as he trailed his kisses towards your pussy that was eagerly waiting to be touched and licked. When he got there, he pressed a kiss to your clit before kitten-licking your sensitive button, making you softly moan. 

His tongue licked into the entrance of your pussy, gathering your arousal on the tip of his tongue to lubricate your clit even more. 

“Fuck,” you groaned as your hands found his curly locks, tugging at them gently. 

“You could do that harder, I don’t mind it,” Harry told you before going back to eating you out. You pulled harder and Harry deeply groaned against you, sending vibrations up your body. 

His hands wandered around your body, feeling the softness of your skin against his hands. Your skin had formed goosebumps due to his touch, and Harry smoothed out your skin so you were warm. He sucked on your clit quite harshly, earning a moan of his name from your lips as he grabbed both of your tits in his hands, squeezing them. 

You placed your hands on top of his, squeezing them with him, and Harry almost came at the sight of that. There you were, moaning his name out, getting your pussy eaten, and squeezing your tits on top of his hands. A sight he truly was lucky enough to see. 

Harry pulled one hand away to rub your clit as he tongued around your wet hole before tongue fucking you. He rubbed your clit at a moderate speed, enough for you to thrust your hips off the bed. Harry pulled his other hand that was still on one of your breasts away to pin your hips down onto the bed. 

“Stay still for me, angel,” he instructed, voice deep that made you even wetter. “You taste so good. Could eat you out all day.” 

“Harry…” you trailed, whining desperately for your release. “W-Wanna…cum…need to.” Your sentences were broken and Harry thought that was a good sign, knowing that he was doing so well you couldn’t form a proper sentence. 

“Tell me what you need. Let me know, so I can get you there.” 

“F-Fingers,” you told him, and he immediately brought his fingers to your clit, rubbing it before inserting two fingers inside your pussy. He thrust slowly, curling his fingers up to feel your walls.

He felt you pulsing around him as your legs were wrapped tightly around his back as you screamed his name over and over again. 

“C’mon, love. Give me one,” he encouraged, thrusting his fingers a bit faster. 

Once he hit the spot over and over again, you saw stars. Your vision had gone white for a few seconds, and you felt dizzy. The pleasure that ran through your body was overwhelming in the best way possible and you choked out a few sobs. It had hit you like a brick that you saw coming, but you were still surprised and shocked by the impact. 

Your hands held Harry’s hair tight that he thought for a moment that you might actually rip it off. Harry rubbed your pussy as you came down from your high, licking your orgasm that was seeping through your cunt, taking every drop of it. He looked up to see your head thrown back, chest heaving, and a vein that was bulging against your skin. He kissed your thighs while his other hand trailed across your body. 

When you finally were able to catch your breath, Harry kissed up your body, leaving the softest and loving kisses to your skin as you were quite sensitive. You grabbed his face, bringing his lips to yours as you immediately stuck your tongue in his mouth, swirling it with his to taste yourself on him—a mixture of his taste and your orgasm all on his tongue had made you wetter. 

Harry was grinding himself against your leg, trying to relieve some pressure. 

“Want you,” you told him once he pulled away, looking at him intently. 

“You sure?” 

“Absolutely. Please? Only if you want to-”

“I definitely want to. Just wanna make sure you were sure,” he breathed out a chuckle. 

“Course I want to.” There was a bit of silence between you two as you were simply just admiring him as he hovered over you. “Are you gonna fuck me, Harry?” You broke the silence, and Harry broke out of his trance, shyly giggling before getting off the bed. 

He peeled away his briefs, cock standing straight up from the slight painful restraint. He was big—girth and length wise, and you felt your mouth salivating from just looking at him. He got back on the bed, in between your legs as he sat on his knees. Spitting on his hand, he grabbed a hold of his dick, stroking it to relieve the pressure. The view was beautiful in every single way possible, and you didn’t dare to bat an eye because you didn’t want to miss one second of it. 

Wanting to take over for him, you reached forward, replacing his hand with yours as you slowly stroked his cock for him. Harry had a smug smile on his face but soon changed into a face of pure pleasure as your hand worked against him. His mouth was open as he let out a soft moan, looking down at your eyes as you were looking up, completely loving his reaction to your touch. 

“You’re so pretty, Harry,” you complimented as you continued to touch him. Your other hand reached forward to fondle with his balls, rolling them into your hand as Harry whimpered. “Love seeing you like this. Most gorgeous man I’ve seen in my life.” 

“Please, angel, you’re being too nice…” he managed to groan out, hands gripping your thighs. 

“But it’s true. Look so pretty when you’re like this, but also when you’re hitting the heavy bags. When we go out to eat and you mindlessly drink your entire drink while waiting for the food. But I think you’ll look extra pretty than you already are if you cum.” Your words of declaration were getting him on the edge as you stroke him. The way your voice slightly changed as you looked up at him with the most innocent eyes made him thrust into your hand, gripping the flesh of your skin as he threw his head back. 

“You think so?” 

“Mhm. Gonna be so pretty when you cum all over my body, my tits. Can you do that? For me, can you do that? Please?” You were completely begging for it, but even with all the begging, he knew that you had all the control right now. 

Your feet rubbed his calves up and down, and it was the simplest touch, but it heightened Harry’s need to let go. 

“Wanna cum for you, yeah.” His breaths were heavy and harsh as your touch was focused on his tip, wrapping your delicate hands around the head where he was most sensitive. 

Harry’s moans stuttered as a series of profanities slipped from his lips, spilling onto your stomach and breasts. You smiled to yourself as you studied his face when he came undone; his mouth was open, occasionally biting his lip, and eyes shut closed as his head was thrown back—he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, and the fact that you got to see him like this was an honor. 

When he came down from his high, he slowly opened his eyes, meeting yours, staring right at him. You smirked, body covered in his orgasm, and he thought that was a picture worth taking. You were gorgeous covered in his pleasure that you caused, and you seemed to love it too since you made no effort to wipe it off. 

Boldly, he leaned down, dragging his tongue from your stomach to your tit, spending the most time on your breasts as he nibbled and licked your nipples, collecting his orgasm from your skin and held it on the tip of his tongue until he reached your mouth. You willingly opened your mouth as his tongue delved right in, feeding you his cum. 

You two passionately kissed, tasting him ever so sensually. You moaned into his mouth, thinking about how the sight of Harry licking his orgasm off of your body was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. With your hips jerking up, you felt yourself getting wet again and in need to release once more. 

You whimpered, pulling away. “Please. Need you so bad.” Harry nodded, agreeing. 

“Condom?” He asked, and you immediately reached over to your bedside table, ripping open the condom before rolling it onto his dick that was still hard. 

Harry curled in his lips, watching you. You gave him a few extra strokes for good measure, earning a soft moan from his mouth. He took his length in his hand, running the tip up and down your slit, collecting your arousal and lubricating his cock. He gave you one last look and you nodded before he slowly pushed in, indulging in your wetness and softness. 

A moan came out of both of your mouths, feeling completely full and warm for one another with the stretch Harry had on you. He planted his elbows on both sides of you, holding himself up over you as he slowly began to thrust. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Feel so good for me.” He placed a kiss on your lips as he whispered. He found a rhythm as he started to move faster, rocking his hips against yours, making you moan. 

It was a feeling like no other, and it was the amount of love you two had for one another that made this experience much more special. Love was practically oozing out of both of your veins, filling the room to its maximum capacity as the both of you moaned out in pleasure. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms looped around his back, hugging him closer to you as if he couldn’t get closer. You whined into his ear, the sounds of your pleasure were music to his eyes, sending a shiver down his body, making him jerk. But that jolt had hit your g-spot, and you screamed out in ecstasy. 

“Right there. Keep doing that. Keep fucking me,” you managed to say. Harry maintained his pace, going deeper, and fucking you into oblivion as you kept crying and screaming his name out. 

Harry’s lips attached to your neck, nibbling and licking your skin, leaving a few decent size love bites that he was sure to admire when they’d fully formed. Your nails had raked down his back, leaving a burning but pleasurable sting down his skin, letting him know that he was doing an amazing job. 

“You like that?” He groaned into your ear, leaving chills rising onto your skin. 

“Mhm. Just like that. Don’t stop. I-I’m so close.” You threw your head back into the pillows, and Harry took the opportunity to attack your exposed neck with kisses again. Your hands found Harry’s hair, tugging at his curls as he kissed you. That encouraged him to fuck you harder and faster, repeatedly hitting your special spot. “O-Oh…” 

“Come on, angel love. Cum for me, please. Wanna see you make a mess around me,” he encouraged you. 

With a few more thrusts, you were done. You had fully and completely released around him as your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks. Your vision had gone white for a few seconds, head dizzy, and your breaths were caught in your throat as your hips involuntarily jolted, meeting his thrusts that were fucking you through your high. 

Harry started to thrust sloppily, burying his face in your neck as he spilled into the condom. His hot breath was against your skin as he started to slow down, coming down from his orgasm. 

The room was silent as the only sounds present were the heavy breaths and the post-orgasmic whimpers coming from your mouth as you two held one another. Your nails gently scratched down his back, contrasting to the desperate and needy scratches that you had given him just a few minutes ago. 

Harry lifted his head up, meeting your eyes before connecting his lips against yours, tongue meeting first before your lips moved in sync so passionately and lovingly that you both unspokenly agreed to never taste another pair of lips again. 

“I love you so much,” Harry said, resting his chin on your chest. 

You smiled down at him, eyes gleaming as you looked at your love, your entire heart, the man that had stolen your breath and heart just by one look. 

“And I love you too.” 

Waking up to the warmth of the body next to you was your favorite thing in the morning—had been for six months now. The sight next to you was something you wouldn’t get used to as you always found yourself feeling so lucky every single time you woke up next to him. 

But a pout formed onto your face when you saw that the space next to you was empty. The crinkled yellow sheets were left, missing a certain person that you had been excited to see this morning since you closed your eyes the night prior. 

Turning over to your bedside table, you grabbed your pager, seeing if you had any messages, and one specifically stood out to you, making you sleepily smile at your pager. 

“Goodmorning, angel,” Harry greeted as he stood in the doorway of your bedroom. He was wearing a gray sweatsuit, holding a white paper bag in one hand and a smoothie tray, that held two smoothies, in the other hand with a loving smile plastered on his face, making his dimples poke out. 

“Mm. Hi, darling.” Your arms reached forward, gesturing him to come to you, and he gladly did, situating himself on your body as you wrapped your arms around him. 

You two stayed like that for a moment, basking in the presence and gratitude of one another. It was nice until your stomach started growling, making Harry chuckle. 

“C’mon, gotta feed my girl before we head to the gym.” He got off of you, helping you up and out of the bed before helping you make the bed. He walked over to the kitchen before you went to the restroom, and when you walked out, Harry had your breakfast set on a plate. 

You two made light conversation, mostly enjoying the silence and tastiness of the food before you got ready to go to the gym. 

When you walked into Don’s Box, you were immediately greeted by a few of the members, giving you high fives, as well as saying hi to Harry. The entire gym had found out you two were together when they started to notice Harry coming into the gym almost every day and staying until the gym closed, so a few people had their speculations. Don was certain you two would get together from the very beginning, and he had told you that the only reason he was trying to act intimidating when Harry first walked in was that he sensed that something would happen, and he was right, something did happen. 

Benny was ecstatic; jokingly telling Harry that he could now spend time with his wife since you had taken all of Harry’s time now, which Benny earned a push from Harry towards the ropes of the ring. Benny’s wife was also pregnant and wanted Harry to be the godfather, which Harry immediately took on that responsibility and role. But that also meant since you and Harry were planning on staying together for the long run, you were becoming a godmother as well, which you were very excited about. 

You climbed up into the ring as Harry followed. You had a day off, and no one needed your attention other than Harry, so you helped him put on his gloves after you wrapped his hands in tape, and you put on your mitts, making sure they were tight before clapping the mitts together—Harry punched his gloves together, making sure they were comfortable. 

You raised your brows at him teasingly. “Ready, darling?” 

“Ready as always, my angel,” he responded, and you smirked. 

“Give me a good one. Give me 1.” 

talk to me about your favorite moments, your thoughts and feelings about this pls! thank you for reading <3

[liskantope]

My (very long) Radiohead playlist, from worst to best

I have all of Radiohead's main albums in my music library plus a number of extra tracks from some smaller albums / movie soundtracks / other things. Totaling 141* at the moment, I think my collection is fairly exhaustive in terms of tracks that can be directly downloaded and purchased** as sound recordings (there are some more tracks I'm aware of on YouTube that I could turn into mp4's or something). And yes, I ordered them all and made them into a giant playlist that I feel the need to share below.

*with some repeated songs when I happen to own two substantially different versions of the same song (so not for instance two tracks which are identical except of a few extra seconds of music added in one of them); in all cases of different versions of the same song they're spaced a bit apart with other songs in-between them

**I actually didn't purchase most of my Radiohead albums and tracks; they were shared with me by a roommate some years ago who himself almost certainly downloaded them illegally

I ordered these purely according to a ranking of how much enjoyment I get from and/or overall appreciation I have for each song; I tried not to let other factors such as how one track sounds like when leading into the next one influence me, at least not consciously (on occasion such considerations probably gave me some bias, and I felt particularly biased in favor of multiple versions of the same song having a little space between them).

Because I don't have all night for adding links, I only linked my top 30 to YouTube videos of them for quick access to the uninitiated. I reiterate my claim of the (linked below) music video to "There There" being the best music video I've ever seen (it's probably increased my appreciation for the song as a whole and so might be partially responsible for its very high ranking).

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

144) Fast-Track 143) I am Citizen Insane 142) I Promise 141) Thinking About You 140) Feral 139) Stop Whispering 138) Pulk/Pull Revolving Doors 137) I Can't 136) Lurgee 135) Kinetic 134) Worrywort 133) Prove Yourself 132) Where Bluebirds Fly 131) How Do You? 130) Vegetable 129) Fitter Happier 128) Blow Out 127) Separator 126) You 125) Killer Cars 124) Treefingers 123) The Amazing Sounds of Orgy 122) Talk Show Host 121) Ripcord 120) Lewis (Mistreated) 119) India Rubber 118) Packt Like Sardines in a Crushed Tin Box 117) Permanent Daylight 116) Backdrifts. (Honeymoon is Over.) 115) Planet Telex 114) Bloom 113) Sit down. Stand up. (Snakes & Ladders.) 112) Bodysnatchers 111) Lozenge of Love 110) The Trickster 109) Remyxomatosis (Cristian Vogel remix?) 108) Melatonin 107) Lull 106) Meeting in the Aisle 105) Cuttooth 104) 15 Step 103) The Gloaming. (Softly Open our Mouths in the Cold.) 102) Hunting Bears 101) House Of Cards 100) Trans-Atlantic Drawl 99) Lift 98) Subterranean Homesick Alien 97) The Bends 96) Let Down 95) Sulk 94) I am a Wicked Child 93) Creep (acoustic) 92) High and Dry 91) Airbag 90) How Can You Be Sure? 89) Give Up the Ghost 88) Everything in its Right Place (live version) 87) Idioteque 86) Gagging Order 85) Fog 84) Morning Mr. Magpie 83) Identikit 82) Bullet Proof... I Wish I Was 81) Kid A 80) Paperbag Writer 79) Desert Island Disk 78) In Limbo 77) Everything in its Right Place 76) You Never Wash Up After Yourself 75) Bones 74) Tinker Tailor Soldier Sailor Rich Man Poor Man Beggar Man Thief 73) Optimistic 72) Ful Stop 71) Scatterbrain. (As Dead as Leaves.) 70) Like Spinning Plates 69) Glass Eyes 68) Go to Sleep. (Little Man being Erased.) 67) Creep 66) Dollars & Cents 65) The Tourist 64) Fake Plastic Trees 63) Electioneering 62) Punchdrunk Lovesick Singalong 61) Decks Dark 60) Fake Plastic Trees (acoustic version) 59) Reminder 58) Staircase 57) Videotape 56) Where I End and You Begin. (The Sky is Falling.) 55) Lotus Flower 54) Sail to the Moon. (Brush the Cobwebs out of the Sky.) 53) Myxomatosis. (Judge, Jury & Executioner.) 52) All I Need 51) True Love Waits 50) Burn the Witch 49) Just 48) Anyone Can Play Guitar 47) Weird Fishes / Arpeggi 46) Skttrbrain (Four Tet remix of "Scatterbrain"?) 45) Pyramid Song 44) Street Spirit (Fade Out) 43) Palo Alto 42) Motion Picture Soundtrack 41) Climbing Up the Walls 40) Codex 39) Fog (Again) (live version) 38) A Punchup at a Wedding. (No no no no no no no no.) 37) Little by Little 36) I Might Be Wrong 35) The National Anthem 34) Jigsaw Falling Into Place 33) My Iron Lung 32) The Daily Mail 31) True Love Waits (live version) 30) Man of War 29) Reckoner 28) Faust Arp 27) 2 + 2 = 5 (live version) 26) Morning Bell (version from Kid A) 25) Black Star 24) (Nice Dream) 23) You and Whose Army? 22) Polyethylene (Parts 1 & 2) 21) Nude 20) We Suck Young Blood. (Your Time is Up.) 19) I Will. (No Man's Land.) 18) Present Tense 17) Knives Out 16) Daydreaming 15) 2 + 2 = 5 (The Lukewarm.) 14) Pearly 13) Like Spinning Plates (live version) 12) I Will (Los Angeles version) 11) Lucky 10) The Numbers 9) There There. (The Boney King of Nowhere.) 8) Karma Police 7) How to Disappear Completely 6) Exit Music (For a Film) 5) Morning Bell (version from Amnesiac) 4) No Surprises 3) A Wolf at the Door. (It Girl. Rag Doll.) 2) Life in a Glass House 1) Paranoid Android

(I reserve the right to make changes in these rankings and quietly edit this post to reflect those or, as an alternative, feel too lazy to edit this post to reflect those.) [EDIT: I did just this, adding a few tracks and making a bunch of changes.]

[queenfredegund]

Tag Game

Tagged by @penitencebedamned, thank you so much dear ♥

1. Why did you choose your url? I’m just a nerd, I love my regina Fredegund. Plus I figured it would be easier for me to obtain that url rather an other more trendier.

2. Any sideblogs? Yes, @lounabis, but I update it once in a blue moon, I’m afraid 🙈

3. How long have you been on Tumblr? 2014 or 2015, I think.

4. Do you have a queue tag? Not really.

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place? I wanted to reblogged my sister’s first gifsets.

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp? Well... because it’s Ruyi!

7. Why did you choose your header? Same answer, I love her so much 😍

8. What’s your post with the most notes? My top archaeological sites [x].

9. How many mutuals do you have? I guess around 10 people, but I would love to speak with more people 😊

10. How many followers do you have? 1025.

11. How many people do you follow? 143.

12. Have you ever made a shitpost? Apart whining posts, I don’t think so.

13. How often do you use tumblr each day? It depends, I connect daily when I’m kinda bored.

14. Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? Personnaly, not really, but by proxy yes, because there is really indelicate people sometimes... “À bon entendeur, salut !”

15. How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts? Depends of the situation.

16. Do you like tag games? Yes, I just wish I could be more reactive while doing it!

17. Do you like ask games? Same answer.

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous? Hmmm... I think @penitencebedamned, @winterhalters and @haticesultanas?

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual? Not so far!

20. Tags? I’m tagging @ladyniniane, @fierce-little-miana, @haticesultanas, @ladywraith and @mydaylight!

[hireath24]

Everything wrong with ACOFAS: A Rant Part Three

Disclaimer: This is part three and will continue from pages 97 to 150. Part one can be found here. Part Two can be found here. Part four can be found here. These page numbers come from the UK paperback edition of A Court of Frost and Starlight. This is my own opinion of the book - the writing, the grammar, the characters, etc. I won’t be commenting on anything that may have been plagiarized or that has been ripped off from the history of other cultures as SJM has a tendency to do. If you disagree with my opinions, I’m sorry and hope you see the error in your ways.

Page 99: Saying ‘wine will make you feel better’ really gives off the wrong impression when this is a book targeted at young kids. I mean, it’s written for the YA genre which is typically categorized for ages 12 and up. 

Page 101: I’m so fed up of people talking badly about Nesta. Having Amren say ‘That’s if she shows up sober’ when she has walked in to see Feyre, Cassian and Azriel all drinking wine? Feyre and Cassian being ‘drunk’? Double standard! Unfair! 

Page 102: So Elain managed to become a seer with the cauldron, right? So… Are there other people - sorry, Fae - who are seers? Why does the cauldron affect people in different ways? 

Page 107: Amren was turned into a High Fae in the last book, which means that she no longer has to drink blood as food. But why did she ever have to drink blood? I don’t think it was ever explained. Why?

Page 108: Elain asks Amren if she could have taken on a male form and Amren replies with ‘Before, in my other form, I was neither. I simply was.’ Was that supposed to be SJM’s cheap shot at adding some gender diversity? Because I would have loved to see Amren be this non-binary power house asexual dragon but who has time for that but she uses she/her pronouns throughout the entire series and this is the only mention of her being able to switch between genders. 

Page 112: ‘…A few drunk revelers spotted us and fell silent. Felt Rhys’s power, perhaps my own as well, and found somewhere else to be for a while.’ Why would they want to find somewhere else to be as soon as their High Lord and High Lady show up? Why are they showing fear at the feeling of their power? Aren’t Feyre and Rhys supposed to be the good guys? This reads a lot like the people of Velaris are scared of them…

Page 115: ‘Gentlemales’ GENTLEMALES. GENTLEMALES. GENTLE FUCKING MALES?!?!?!?!

Page 116: ‘Indeed, some people were turning our way.’ This is just… This word is useless in general but in this book? I don’t think it was edited properly. 

Page 118: ‘A scene. This was about to become a scene in the worst way.’ SJM does this quite a lot in this book. These little two sentences where she says something and then expands on that something. It was used twice before already and I didn’t write it down because I thought it was just a writing choice but… it’s a poor one. It feels like a way to get the word count up somehow and, quite frankly, it’s bad writing.

  Page 118: Feyre is annoyed that Nesta is asking for her to pay her rent? How else does she suppose that Nesta should pay for her rent? She had a home that was taken from her back in the human world (that was taken from her because of Feyre, mind you) and all she asks is that Feyre pay her rent because she doesn’t have a job in fairy land? That seems pretty reasonable. Feyre shouldn’t be mad. 

Page 121: ‘But those were her deaths to claim.’ Why does everything have to be paid with death? I think it would be a lot more empowering if Mor would meet with those who wronged her, say something about them and her and just walk out of their lives entirely? SJM should start preaching forgiveness a little bit more but, hey, that’s just my opinion. Plus, this is really making Rhys seem like a bad ruler. Wanting to kill his enemies? No. 

Page 122: ‘Keir is coming soon, isn’t he.’ Yeah, no, this wasn’t edited. 

Page 122: ‘When.’ 

Page 125: ‘Az has a list of kingdoms most likely to cross the line.’ I’m wondering why the Night Court is in charge? Why does Rhysand get to decide which kingdoms and courts cross the line? Why does he get to decide where the line is? 

Page 126: As I said for Page 118, Rhysand says: ‘Tempting. So damn tempting to tell…’ See what I mean? 

Page 126: If Rhysand deals with conflict by fighting fire with fire, then his court is going to fall apart. Why is he allowed to get away with attacking Tamlin the way he did? What are the basic rules of the court - any of the courts? Surely the people wouldn’t want an insufficient ruler so do they get a say in it? WHY ARE THE HIGH LORDS ALLOWED TO ACT LIKE BLOODTHIRSTY BEASTS?! 

Page 126: ‘Too long. She’d been cooped up within the borders of this court for too long.’ Wow, once you tune into it…

Page 127: I really want to make one thing clear. Not every piece of dialogue has to have a tag attached to it. Sometimes things work much better if you just use ‘I said’ or ‘he/she/they said.’ At least then it would mean less lines such as this ‘I laughed again. ‘Certainly not Amren. Not if we want peace,’ I added.’

Page 127: Also, Rhysand ‘want(s) peace’? Bullshit. Not seven paragraphs ago did he laugh about Mor wanting Tamlin dead and a page ago he was tempted to tell ‘the High Lord of Autumn that his eldest son coveted his throne.’ Do not think for one second that Rhys is a level headed ruler. SJM has a tendency to tell us that he is rather than show it. 

Page 128: ‘…Even the wine I’d returned home to drink couldn’t dull.’ Teaching young, impressionable people that alcohol might solve some of your problems. Great. And what - Feyre can say this but Nesta can’t drink? 

Page 129: ‘Decadent - it felt decadent…’ I really wished I had never picked up on this.

Page 129: Feyre keeps complaining about the amount of work she has to do but here she is shopping with Elain? When her people are scared, heartbroken, without a home and in mourning after the war?

  Page 129: ‘So different. This place was so different…’ ON THE SAME FUCKING PAGE?!??!

Page 131: So I guess that nobody ever told SJM that a character description goes beyond eye colour, hair colour and clothes? 

Page 133: ‘I might ease that grief, make the pain less.’ Feyre’s powers allow her to do that? When, why, how and fucking what?

Page 134: ‘I was lucky - so tremendously lucky.’ 

Page 134: Rhys was dead and he was brought back to life, right? It wasn’t like with Feyre’s death where she was still slightly conscious because she could hear what was going on, no. No, with Rhysand’s death, he really was dead. But he was brought back to life and somehow… feels nothing from this? I would love to see if there are times where his body becomes slightly misty and ghostlike, if his veins turn black under his skin because they had stopped working during that brief moment of death. I would have loved to see something other than just him feeling a little bit tired!

Page 134: ‘How.’ 

Page 135: I’s very clear to me that, for whatever reason, SJM wanted Feyre to be able to paint but she has no idea how to write about it. Whilst Feyre is painting, we only read about her need to create and what the end result looks like. Even during her process we hear nothing about light and perspective and I’m not a painter but there’s a true science behind it. And where is she getting the paints from? Rhys was able to give her some with his magic but from where?

  Page 138: It disgusts me that Feyre thinks that she can solve the people of the Night Court’s problems by teaching them how to paint. These people went through a war! And before that it was Under the Mountain! Painting and creating art in general can help with recovery from mental illness and trauma and PTSD and depression and everything else, but there comes a point where therapy is needed. Memorials are needed, ceremonies are needed. How are people supposed to paint what they feel when they can’t understand what they feel? It’s bullshit and, really, quite a childish thing to even suggest. How is this a ruler? 

Page 139: Why do jigsaw puzzles exist. Why are they called jigsaw puzzles. SJM is not a high fantasy writer. 

Page 140: ‘Good thing indeed.’ You guys know how I feel about this word by now, right? 

Page 140: ‘Indeed, each seemed like a different decade.’ So the fashion changes with time, does it? Great! Tell me more. Tell me why and how and when. Also, indeed.

Page 143: ‘The females bring their jewellery. I bring my weapons.’ But Cassian is a feminist, right? Yeah, no, guys, it’s alright. He’s a feminist, it’s all fine. 

Page 146: ‘You being too drunk to climb the stairs last night.’ I’m really not okay with the amount of casual drinking in this book - and not only that but the way it’s treated. Nesta is shamed for it, Feyre mentions that even wine can’t help her, Rhys makes jokes about his friends being drunk. It sends a really bad message. 

Page 147: ‘Illyrian baby indeed.’ 

Page 147: I’ve said this before but someone should really tell SJM that every scene in a book should further the plot. This has been three pages of bickering, useless drivel about a bed being too small for Cassian and cheap jokes about alcohol. The entire thing could be cut and the story wouldn’t change. 

Page 148: ‘Indeed, as Feyre emerged from the kitchen hallway…’

Page 148: ‘Strange - so strange to see…’

Page 149: ‘Indeed.’

Page 150: ‘Mor was instantly on her feet, offering - insisting on wine.’ This is just teaching kids that you need alcohol to be able to have a good time! Which isn’t true in the slightest! And it’s wrong on so many levels - especially insisting that everyone has wine! Peer pressure?? SJM deals with sensitive issues so badly (see what I said in another post about Rhysand and sexual assault) that it’s… It’s hard. Yikes.

[hellzyeahwebwielingessays]

I am going to try to No. Prize the fact that Dan Slott straight up tried to taint Peter and MJ’s first kiss by establishing Doc Ock accessed that memory in order to masturbate to it whilst Peter helpless watched in horror.

Okay so first of all MJ and ‘Peter’s’ clothes and body language are noticeably different in Superior #2 than in ASM #143. It’s much closer in Superior #27.

This could indicate that rather than being one and the same memory, Otto might’ve accessed memories of a separate but similar time Peter and MJ kissed. After all it is entirely possible that he accessed memories of Peter and MJ’s first kiss on another occasion such as ASM #698 when he first used Peter’s memories to learn about Mary Jane.

The art only depicts their first meeting, but Otto says that there is a lot of history between them, something he’d only know if he’d accessed more memories. This would likely include those relating to their romantic relationship and so their first kiss would be a milestone moment he’d want to inform himself about.

In ASM #700 he clearly knows more about MJ than just her first meeting with Peter as he knows her favourite movie, food and wine.

In Superior #19 we see a montage of Peter’s memories Otto had accessed before Superior #9. These are among the most iconic Spider-Man stories ever and display important events in Peter’s life.

It is these memories that form the remnants of Ghost Peter. In Superior #26 ghost Peter refers to these as his key memories a distillation of his core.

The fact that Otto had accessed such essential memories makes sense. He’s highly intelligent so if he were trying to convincingly play Peter Parker and Spider-Man he’d want to know the most important stuff. Yes I’m aware he was incredibly unconvincing but that’s not really the point.

Peter and MJ’s first kiss would make sense as a memory to access to that effect, especially if he was trying to trick her specifically whilst dating her. So naturally he’d have accessed it prior  to Superior #2.

Ah, but that could all just be artistic licence? After all neither the memory in Superior #2 nor #27 is 100% accurate to ASM #143. And the iconic Sensational Annual 2007 when revisiting this scene also altered the clothing and body language.

Whilst this is true, notice that ASM #143, Sensational Annual 2007 and Superior #27 all have one key detail in common that Superior #2 lacks.

Did you spot it?

It was the bandages on Peter’s hands. He received them in ASM #142 as part of an adventure that involved learning Mysterio was dead.

That adventure would naturally stick out in Peter’s mind as would essential details about his first kiss with the love of his life…Like the fact that he was injured at the time…

The fact that Superior #2 lacks the bandages in addition to different clothing and noticcably different body language is a pretty clear indication (regardless of Slott or Stegman’s intent, ‘Death of the Author’ and all that) that they are not in fact one and the same memory.

Additionally check out the ‘background’ of the kiss. It’s a brick wall. Whilst the vast majority of people might forget clothing or even body language from a specific incident it is far less common to misremember outright locations.

Maybe you will forget the minute details of a location like what colours the chairs or floor were. But you won’t forget what the location actually was.

The first kiss with the love of your life and future wife?

You’d remember broadly where that was.

Considering Peter and MJ’s first kiss was more than just a ‘first’ for them, it was the  moment they realized they were in love he’d hardly forget where that moment happened. The fact that it occurred just before he boarded a flight and that he came back from that trip to be confronted by a living Gwen Stacy would make the event all the more memorable.

And let’s also recognize that airports in both real life and in American pop culture have been typically associated with romance.

Therefore why is Peter’s memories in Superior #2 set against a brick wall? Even if it was indoors it’d be a massive  thing to misremember. Way too massive given the context of ASM #143.

Is this artistic licence again? Peter and MJ lived in a brownstone apartment for a while which I understand have brick interiors. Could the brick wall be from the memory of Peter and MJ sitting in bed? The wall is coloured the same shade as the bed they are sitting on.

Well maybe that memory is from their brownstone but the brick wall is far more prevalent in the above memory of them kissing.

The art depicts their shadows being projected onto it. The wall also stretches out beyond ‘Peter’. Why would it do that if the wall is in reference to the bed memory?

Yes the colouring is the same but who is to say that  element isn’t artistic licence, or that their mattress happens to be the same colour as the wall? Or that in jumping from one memory to another Otto isn’t making certain details ‘bleed’ over from one to another?

Plus the angle of the bricks doesn’t quite support the idea that the wall is in reference to the bed memory. It’s likely that a bed would be placed parallel to a wall because it’s just neater and more practical that way. MJ would likely be in charge of where the furniture would be located and since she’s so practically minded she’d be unlikely to not  do that. The bricks however are clearly at an angle compared to the bed and make more sense if the ‘camera’ was peeking around the corner at MJ and ‘Peter’ kissing against the wall.

So there you have it.

Otto might’ve accessed Peter’s memory of his first kiss with MJ, but it didn’t happen in one of the single most abhorrent scenes in Spider-Man history. It likely happened before Ghost Peter manifested in Superior #1 meaning he’d not have any horrible memories now associated with his first kiss with MJ.

[hyuuukais]

so!! unfortunately i don't think there will be an update on fictional reality this friday coming up bc of family being over & being busy at work. however! i am thinking of releasing the first chapter of apartment 143! so keep an eye out ;)

(i have a few chapters done, so i won't be stressing at all about doing both fics at once lol, and they'll have different posting days! plus, my work hours will be lowering which kinda sticks BUUUT i'll have more time to write afjkfa)

[artificialqueens]

Lemon's Misadventures in Dating, Chapter 7  (Lemon x Life) - Mermelada

A/N: And she’s back, back, back again! I hope you all enjoy this one! Friendly reminder to drink in moderation and socially distance <3 tw for drugs and alcohol in this one, as always, I love all the feedback I’ve been getting! Thank you all, big kisses!

Saturday rolled around quicker than Lemon had expected, and she had a dilemma: Jan had a fancy dinner with her boyfriend’s parents; Jackie was still studying in New York; and Brooke Lynn was performing in Giselle every night for the next ten days. But she was so keen to go to Scarlett’s party - and not be stood alone like an awkward, well, lemon - that she had done something that was probably very, very silly. 

“So let me get this straight, you want me, a girl you hooked up with once on Tinder, to come with you to a party you were invited to by another girl from Tinder, and help you get laid?”

When she put it like that, it did actually seem very weird. “Well, not necessarily the last part, but yeah, it’s just a party, right? It’ll be fun!”

Kyne sipped her fruity cocktail, brow furrowed, not letting Lemon see any of her current thought process. The blonde’s eyes darted around the bar, smoothing her yellow skater dress along her thighs, as she thought of Plan E should the brunette say no. But on the plus side, she contemplated, trying to convince herself that her plan wasn’t completely doomed to failure, she did agree to come and meet me at short notice. And we’ve been chatting pretty regularly, so we can totally be friends, right? Her inner monologue was cut short when Kyne finally spoke up. 

“And there’ll be booze and lesbians, you say?”

“Yes, Kyne, I can guarantee you will be surrounded by booze and lesbians.”

The click of her high heels echoed through the bar as she jumped off her stool, grabbing her coat. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

***

Walking arm in arm as they navigated an unknown neighbourhood, the pair were able to laugh and chat like regular friends. Clearly having learned from her previous missteps, Kyne even appeared to be taking an interest in Lemon, asking about her life - she was even excited to find out about Lemon’s new job.

“Okay, okay, one thing I have actually been dying to know… is Lemon REALLY your name?? Like do your parents love fruit or something?”

Lemon turned and deadpanned her answer. “Yeah, I have a brother called Lime.”

She could see the cogs turning inside Kyne’s brain as her mouth rounded in a confused “oh”, but she could only keep her serious façade in place for a few seconds before she snorted into an easy grin.

“You bitch! You really had me thinking you were part of some fruit cult! So what’s your real name then?”

“Do you promise not to laugh?” pouted Lemon, shifting her eyes to the girl beside her.

“I promise nothing, but I’ll try my best.”

“Luisa.”

“That’s really pretty! Why would I laugh at that? But even bigger question now, where the fuck did Lemon come from?!” Kyne all but screamed as they turned the corner onto Scarlett’s street, the pair looking at every door to find the correct apartment block. Their plastic bag of recently-purchased alcohol and snacks (and a red velvet cupcake for Scarlett, it was her birthday, after all) swayed between them as they zig-zagged down the pavement, trying not to trip over the uneven surface in their heels. Lemon was so focussed on finding number 143 that she almost forgot to answer, until she felt Kyne’s elbow on her bicep.

“Oh, I don’t even know, I guess I loved yellow as a kid? Plus I’ve always been sour as hell.”

Looking up, they caught a glimpse of a girl with light-blue hair hanging out of a window, smoking, who noticed Lemon and Kyne approach the front door immediately. She tilted her head to the side and shouted loudly, seemingly at nobody. “Sissy! Whores at the door for you!”

Looking between each other, both panicking that they’d made a huge mistake, the girls stood on the front step, trying to ignore the glare of the girl above them.

“I’m scared, she’s mean,” mouthed Kyne, causing Lemon to reach out and hold the younger girl’s hand, also as an attempt to calm her own racing pulse. Before they could do anything else, the intercom crackled and buzzed, the door shifting slightly as it unlocked. Biting her lip, Lemon led the brunette inside, never letting go of her hand. The smell of weed radiated around the stairwell, the dull thud of a dancey bassline penetrating the concrete walls. Slowly, they climbed the stairs up to the third floor.

“Do you smoke?” Lemon asked, dying to break the silence and put the younger girl - but mainly herself - at ease.

“Sometimes”, she hesitated, tucking a strand of her wavy chestnut-coloured hair behind her ear. “You?”

“Sometimes.”

They eventually reached the source of the music, where a girl Lemon recognised as Scarlett stood at the open door, already clearly hammered.

“Oh my god, you must be Lemon!!!” she screamed, immediately engulfing her into a tight hug. She was a good couple of inches shorter than Lemon, but she was very, very strong. Scarlett smelled of a combination of weed and flowery perfume, and Lemon couldn’t help but notice how her tattooed biceps flexed as she gripped her. “You are even more beautiful in person, oh fuck, sorry, thank you so much for coming!” Finally letting go, she placed her hands on Kyne’s shoulders, staring deeply into her eyes like she was reading a sign. “Is this your friend? She’s gorgeous too, it’s not fucking fair!”

As if a switch had been flipped, Kyne was suddenly oozing fearless confidence, her demeanor reminiscent of the first time Lemon had met her. “Hi, yes, I’m Kyne, and I fucked her first.”

Lemon’s jaw hit the floor as Kyne smirked, before being enveloped in Scarlett’s arms. The birthday girl laughed like it was the funniest thing she had ever heard, her hands wrapped tightly around the Filipina’s waist. “Oh my god! You are so funny, I love you! Welcome, welcome!” Taking a step to the side, Lemon produced the cupcake in its paper container from their shopping bag. 

“Happy Birthday, girl!”

Scarlett’s eyes suddenly became glassy, and she put an arm around each of the other girls as her bottom lip trembled. “Ladies… this is the nicest thing anyone has done for me today, you are both angels!” Lemon tried to hold the small cake aloft to avoid squashing it any more, meanwhile Kyne appeared to be biting her lip in a vain attempt to not laugh. Scarlett, however, showed no signs of stopping her emotional tirade. “My own girlfriend didn’t get me a cake! I mean she baked some edibles for tonight, but it’s just not the same, y’know? This really means something, so thank you so much.”

A cough at the door interrupted the moment, and from the corner of her eye, Lemon saw the blue-haired girl from the window earlier, quickly realising that she recognised her from her heart tattoo under her eye. Ilona.

“Sorry to interrupt, babies, but we should take this inside. Scar, our neighbours don’t need to hear this again.” She spoke curtly, and despite the smile plastered on her face, it was obvious to everyone how she was really feeling. She was mad.

As Lemon and Kyne detangled themselves, edging towards the entrance, Scarlett spoke up again, sounding much less merry than before.

“Oh I’m sorry, sissy! Fuck my feelings, eh? Come on, ladies, let’s go party!” And with that, the remaining three girls could only watch the short blonde hair of the birthday girl bounce through the front door, leaving them in an awkward stalemate. Luckily, Kyne spoke up first, addressing the burning question that Lemon wasn’t brave enough to mention.

“So are you two, like, a thing?”

Ilona’s face had completely changed, her vulnerability now evident through her knitted eyebrows. She sighed heavily, ushering the others inside. “Yep, one wonderful year of this,” she muttered as she gesticulated wildly into the air, closing the door behind her and all but stomping down the dimly lit hallway. “Leave your shoes and jackets here, smoke out the window, and don’t have sex on my bed.” 

This was definitely a bonding moment for Lemon and Kyne, the two giggling quietly at each other as they slid off their shoes, leaving them in the messy pile which had been erected by the door. Lemon felt Kyne’s warm hand brush against hers, so she took the hint and interlaced their fingers again. They smirked at each other, knowing that tonight would be interesting, no matter what happened. As they heard Scarlett’s strained voice shouting at her girlfriend from the room at the end of the hall, they padded along the wooden flooring, ready to see where the night took them.

***

“Hey! Kyne! Watch this!”

With slightly dilated brown eyes and a vacant smile focussing on her, Lemon slid her legs along the carpet, straight into the splits. She posed, grinning, with a ‘ta-da!’

“Wooooo! Go Lemon!! She’s a dance teacher, people!” screeched Kyne over the music, running over to Lemon with a bottle of Fireball. Both girls took a generous swig, laughing as the brunette took the blonde by the hands and attempted to drag her across the floor, legs still splayed. The party, so far, had indeed been interesting. Scarlett had disappeared shortly after they had arrived, so Ilona had joined them on the couch with a bottle of expensive-looking vodka and a plate of pot brownies. Lemon and Kyne had half-heartedly listened as she cried about nothing they knew anything about; then Kyne had cried about how she had started to develop feelings for her roommate, but how she was too scared to ever say anything; which left Lemon sat in the middle with her arms around them both, stroking their hair, waiting for their temporary downer to end. As quickly as it had started, they had both perked up again, and pulled Lemon onto the makeshift dancefloor, the alcohol in her system making her brave enough to pull out all her tricks. The blonde couldn’t help but notice that the unlikely pair were getting on rather well, Ilona’s hand never far away from any exposed part of Kyne. As she stood upright again, shaking off the strain in her groin muscles, she stood and hazily watched as both girls slid into the hallway, taking the bottle of orange alcohol with them. As Lemon pondered her next move, a voice from above knocked her out of her daze, with strong arms guiding her toward the kitchen. For the second time that night, Lemon couldn’t help but feel she recognised the dark-skinned woman. She wore her hair in two long boxer braids which swung down her back, her plum lips turned up in a smile.

“Come play with me, we’re doing gin pong!”

Lemon let the woman’s velvet voice encompass her, when her brain finally connected the dots.

“Tynomi?!”

The woman in the denim playsuit looked startled as she looked Lemon up and down, before having her own moment of realisation. “Ah, lesbian Tinder? Nice to meet you…?”

“Lemon! I’m Lemon!”

“Lemon, it’s a pleasure! I’m afraid I haven’t found you yet, otherwise I’d know you better by now.” She winked as she sashayed through the beaded curtain which separated the kitchen from the living room, Lemon following her like a puppy would its mother. She readily took the plastic cup Tynomi offered her, filling it with a potent-looking mixture of rum and ginger beer. “I don’t spend as much time in Toronto as I’d like, sadly, which means so many lovely ladies fly under my radar.”

Trying to hide her wince as she sipped the strong drink, she leaned towards Tynomi, who was busy preparing a drink for herself with at least six different types of alcohol in it. “That’s a shame, do you live out of town?”

“No, no, I live two blocks away actually! But I’m a flight attendant, so it’s hard to keep something serious going, you know?” She raised her glass to toast with Lemon, both women holding eye contact as they sipped. Before Lemon had the chance to ask any of the hundreds of questions running through her mind, Tynomi had already turned to the long table with cups set up at both ends, grabbing hold of a ping-pong ball. “Anyway, shall I start?”

***

Lemon had lost all concept of time and space by the time Scarlett reappeared, her pixie cut looking ruffled as if she’d just rolled out of bed - which, to be fair, she probably had - jumping around the kitchen excitedly, attempting to drum up support for going to a club. Looking around the packed room, there was no sign anywhere of Kyne or Ilona, and after three attempts she managed to unlock her phone to see if the younger girl had messaged. Thankfully, she had.

[22:04] Leeeeeedmon im ginna sleeo here tonight with alina hopw u get bsck ssfe txtx me luv u bye xxzzxxxxxxzx

Despite not fully understanding what she was attempting to read, she decided that Kyne was fine. Why not go out with Scarlett? She found the blonde back in the kitchen, chatting to Tynomi, when she wrapped her arms around them both. “Let’s go out out! You’re both, like, so cool, I wanna dance!” And in a blur, Lemon found herself being whisked into the back seat a taxi between the other two girls, singing along to Alanis Morisette at the top of her lungs.

How the bouncers at the front door decided they were fit enough to be let in, Lemon will never know. But here she was, jostling through the crowds, ready to order some more drinks with money she didn’t necessarily have, but she didn’t care right now. Tynomi and Scarlett had decided to stay outside for a cigarette break, but she had assured them that she was absolutely fine. Completely fine. She heard a sudden thud, and as she bent down to search for her dropped phone on the dark floor, a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Lemon?”

“OH MY GOD! RITA!!!!!!!” Grabbing the slippery device and clumsily skipping towards the area where Rita was standing with another woman - whose giant boobs were the only things Lemon could actually focus on - she threw herself head first into the Québécoise, not noticing the death stare she was receiving from the ashy blonde beside her.

“Who are you here with, mon chou? Are you okay?”

“We were at a party! I’m not sure where they’ve all gone, but oh my god, I can’t believe you’re here! I’m so drunk! Let’s go dance!”

Rita and her companion exchanged a worried glance, and both helped Lemon balance as she wobbled between them. “Lemon, this is my friend from work, Jimbo. Jimbo, this is my friend, Lemon.”

Despite the alcohol coursing through her system, Lemon still picked up on the way Rita’s mouth ever so slightly twisted into a smile as she looked over at her friend, or the way she maintained wide eye contact with her afterwards, wordlessly begging the drunk girl not to embarrass her or do anything stupid. She put everything together and realised that this was the woman Rita liked. But as she twisted in her seat to shake the other doctor’s hand, she was once again interrupted by a voice from behind her.

“Rita? Is that you?”

Tynomi approached the group, somehow still walking like a runway model, with her arms open wide. Rita immediately found herself enveloped in Tynomi’s embrace, the dark-skinned woman planting kisses on both of her cheeks. She held tightly onto Rita’s upper arms, looking each other deeply in the eye, leaving Lemon and Jimbo to feel like they were spying on an intimate moment. “Rita, you look amazing! How are you doing?”

“Oh, you know, the same really! How are you? It’s great to see you again!”

The tension hung thickly in the air as Rita and Tynomi chatted, not even Scarlett’s alcohol-fuelled attempts at speaking French could dissipate it. And as Lemon squinted her eyes to the tall girl beside her, a stiff arm around her waist still holding her upright, she noticed the angry scowl now painted on her face while she watched the others. Lemon may be completely and utterly wasted, but she knew that look well - she wasn’t lying when she said she was always bitter - and felt obliged to do something. After all, Rita had just helped her get a job.

“Jimbo, wanna come smoke outside with me?”

The blonde glared at her for a second, before letting go and walking straight towards the door, leaving Lemon to trot after her. She found her again standing against the front wall of the building, arms folded, lips still pouted like a child who didn’t get their way. 

“You like her, don’t you?”

Jimbo slid her back down the wall until she was crouching, allowing Lemon to sit beside her, no doubt getting her yellow dress covered in dirt and who knows what else. Jimbo groaned as she threw her head into her hands. “I can’t help it. It’s Rita, you know, she’s wonderful. But she goes for people like you and those girls inside, not some ugly, big-titted whore like me. I’m such an idiot, bad Jimbo!”

All too familiar with this narrative and in no mood to let the party mood be dampened, Lemon grabbed both of Jimbo’s hands, rubbing them softly with her thumbs, but it wasn’t enough to stop the tears falling from the other woman’s eyes. “Hey, no you’re not! You’re amazing! Rita definitely likes you too!”

But unfortunately, that only made her cry even more. “You don’t even know me! Why are you being nice to me? Who even are you?” Lemon continued holding her hands, shuffling closer so they could share body heat in the cool autumn air. Normally, when she was sober, she was pretty terrible at dealing with emotional people, but now she was feeling like a qualified therapist. How could it possibly go wrong?

“Look,” she began, moving her arm to around Jimbo’s shoulders, the other blonde leaning into the touch as she sobbed into Lemon’s chest. “I don’t know Rita as well as you obviously do, but I do know a lot of deep shit about her, right?” Stroking the long, blonde hair in front of her, she thought of how to best articulate her plan. “By the way, do you speak French?”

“I mean, enough to understand when she talks to herself in the office when she thinks no one else is there? Oh fuck that sounds so creepy, she hates me!” Jimbo was shaking with tears now, leaving black mascara marks on the front of Lemon’s dress. But that was a problem for future Lemon.

“Well, she turned me down a few days ago. Apparently I’m not her type. She said she liked someone else, from work, who speaks French with her, who makes her tea and compliments her lipstick, and makes her laugh every day with her silly impressions. Does that sound like anyone you know?” Lemon stopped touching Jimbo’s hair, allowing the voluptuous woman to look up at her, still crying hysterically. For a moment, Lemon almost panicked that she had horribly misread the situation and was speaking to the wrong person entirely.

“I… make…. her… tea…” she managed to stutter through jumpy breaths. Now it was her turn to grab hold of Lemon, squashing her head into her large breasts, Lemon making a mental note to ask later if they were real or not. “She… she always wears amazing lipstick, and I always tell her so,” she hiccuped, wiping her tears on the top of Lemon’s head. “She always laughs when I do my Joan Rivers…” Sitting up, she looked at Lemon in shock, finally appearing to have stopped crying. “Does Rita like me?! You’re lying!”

Lemon repositioned herself again, sliding her legs out in front of her, back to sitting beside Jimbo on the ground. “I’m dead serious, that’s what she told me!” She couldn’t get another word in before she was once again being dragged into a vice-like hug by the older woman.

“Oh my god, I am so fucking glad that work drinks got so messy tonight! Oh my god, what do I do now? Help me, yellow lady!!” Lemon managed to pry herself away, taking a deep breath to make up for all the breathing she’d missed out on.

“What do you mean, you dummy, just tell her!”

“I can’t just tell her! When has that ever worked?!”

“I told one of my friends once and we ended up dating for three years, so I…” Lemon’s words caught at the back of her throat, why did she have to say that? Of all the stupid things her drunk brain could think of, of course it had to be Juice. There was no point in fighting it, she just had to get her emotions out, even if she was a very ugly crier. “I… I loved her so much, Jimbo, why did it have to end?” Her trembling lower lip soon transformed into a loud sob, leaving Jimbo to hold her tight again and clumsily run her hand along her arm.

“Don’t cry, darling, she sounds like a total fucking bitch. Forget about her!”

“She wasn’t though! Why did I break up with her? Oh god, what have I done?” 

“No no no no no, don’t cry, you’re gonna make me cry again!”

And so the pair stayed sitting on the dirty concrete at the front of the bar, holding each other and crying for what could have been hours, not noticing any effects of the cold air or damp pavement against their bare arms and legs. They didn’t speak another full sentence to each other, communicating only through grunts and high-pitched wails, much to the amusement and confusion of the other customers milling around outside. Eventually, they felt the presence of somebody else squatting in front of them, the liquorice scent of Rita’s perfume and the grounding feeling of a hand on each of their knees bringing them back into the real world.

“Ohhhh là là, I am not nearly drunk enough for this. Let’s go back inside, ladies, Aunty Scarlett has just bought 100 Jägerbombs and we only have an hour to finish them all.”

[cecilspeaks]

163 - “Bravo”

Our moral compass has been demagnetized. Welcome to Night Vale.

Night Vale, Carlos and I went to see a new play the other night. It’s been ages since we went to the theater. I think the last show we saw was “Hamilton”, which is a Tony and Pulitzer winning hip hop musical about figure skater Scott Hamilton, who died in a duel to fellow Olympian Katarina Witt. “Hamilton” was wonderful, but live theater is so expensive. It’s a rare treat for us to get out of the house, what with the cost of tickets plus dinner, parking, a babysitter, tuxedo rentals and all that time spent watching YouTube makeup tutorials for jamming facial recognition cameras.

But my friend Charles Raynor invited us as his special guests to watch the premiere of a new play at the Night Vale Asylum, where Charles is the warden. The play was called “The Disappearance and Cover-up of Flight 18713 as Performed by the Inmates of the Asylum of Night Vale under the Direction of Undercover Agents from the National Safety and Transportation Bureau.” Or, “18713/NTSB” for short. I’m used to seeing plays at the New Old Opera House or in the high school auditorium. There’s also the Black Box Theatre, which presents some of Night Vale’s most experimental drama from young performance artists. No one has seen any of these shows, or if they have, they’ve never emerged from that doorless black box, its walls perfectly smooth and faintly warm.

But this particular play was at the asylum itself. The Night Vale Asylum perches atop a craggy peak in the Sand Wastes. It’s brutalist concrete walls intermittently slashed with slivers of windows. I do not personally know anyone inside this intimidating institute, other than warden Raynor himself. And I’ll admit to being a bit nervous venturing out at night to a heavily guarded home for the criminally insane. But Carlos put me at ease by rolling his eyes. He said it was neurotypical ableism that makes us think this way. That movies and TV shows often play up harmful tropes about psychopaths and lunatics, planning daring escapes so they can return to a life of criminal misdeeds. Carlos explained that asylums are merely places where we hide away the people who most remind us of the inexplicable fragility of the human brain.

Driving out past the Scrublands under an indigo sky, the full moon low over the horizon backlighting the Night Vale Asylum atop its jagged rocky ridge, my nerves returned. I thought I heard coyotes howling in the distance, but it was the car stereo. Carlos had put on his favorite new Frank Ocean album called “Various Animals Screaming”. When we arrived, warden Raynor greeted us at the gates. Two guards wearing army style green dress uniforms flanked him. Their right breasts were laden with medals, chevrons and stripes. They each were armed with billy clubs, tasers and slingshots, and one of them was wearing an eye patch, but it was positioned in the middle of his forehead.

The warden escorted Carlos and me to our seats, which were simple wood chairs. There were only ten seats total, all in a single row along the rear wall. There was no standard stage to speak of, no curtain. The actors were all in costume in the center of the room, already in character. The other seats were already filled. Warden Raynor, Sheriff Sam, three of Sam’s secret police officers, two of Sam’s overt police officers, and an angel I had never met before, but who introduced themself to me as Erika. With a K, they added. “Nice to meet you, Erika,” I said. “You got ten bucks?” Erika asked. “Uh, sure,” I said. “What for?” “Not everyone gets to know everything,” they said. “You either got it or you don’t, man.” So I handed them ten bucks and minutes later my lower back pain, which has plagued me for the last six months, was gone. I looked back at Erika and I saw the wink at me, or I think they winked? They have ten eyes, so it could have just been an asynchronous blink. It’s hard to even tell what they’re ever looking at.

The play began with an introduction by warden Raynor, who welcomed us all to this unusual night. The first ever performance of an original play by inmates in his asylum. He introduced the writers/directors of the piece. There were three of them, each dressed in an electrical blue jumpsuit. One of them had a blister on his upper lip, another a swollen red lump along the cuticle of his right index finger. One of them had an unceasing nose bleed. I recognized them as the agents from the National Safety and Transportation Bureau in Washington, who had come to Night Vale two months ago to investigate the disappearance of Delta flight 18713. Sheriff Sam had placed these agents undercover in the asylum to try to meet with an inmate named Doug Biondi, who claimed to have pertinent information about the missing aircraft. Upon remembering this, I flipped quickly through my playbill to find the ensemble members’ names. And there on the title page was the name Doug Biondi, who was cast as airplane pilot. As the warden returned to his seat and before the house lights dimmed, I leaned over to Sheriff Sam and asked, “How is the undercover operation going, Sheriff?” Sam glared at me and said, “I’ve no idea what you mean.” “You know, with the NTSP officers here in the asylum trying to interview Doug Biondi?” I asked perhaps a little loudly for a theater. “The NTSP officers are criminally insane, Sessil,” the Sheriff said unironically and with more than a touch of scold in their tone. “That is why they are here. They are a danger to themselves and others.” I had many more questions, but before I could say anything, the lights faded to black, and I heard the first voice of the play.

“Find us,” called the voice in the dark. “Find us,” it echoed again. A faint glow coated like frost the wild-eyed faces of the inmates on stage. The frantic visages made all the more panic by deep eyeliner, rouge and lipstick. Most were dressed in common street clothes: slacks, jeans, buttoned-down shirts, mid-length pattern skirts. Two were dressed as flight attendants and one as the pilot. I could only presume a small budget, as the uniforms worn by the latter groups were largely suggested by navy blue hats and little plastic wings on their lapels. The pilot wore anachronistic aviation goggles and so it was difficult for me to see and remember the face of this actor, this inmate, Doug Biondi. But I could see his mouth, which was unusually white. The corners of his lips extending well past the width of his eyes. He had an unusual number of teeth in his harsh smile, a smile which never abated, even in his most somber of scenes.

“Weeee surviive,” said Biondi’s pilot character. “Weeeee livve. Weee cannot dieee. Noot here, noot in No..Where.” He said it not like the vague concept of “in no place”, but “No Where”, two words capitalized, like the name of a specific place. Each actor was seated in short tight rows of four, a narrow aisle in between, mimicking the floor plan of a common fuselage. At the front of the troup sat Doug Biondi, as airline pilot. “How did we get here, in No Where?” said one of the passengers. “And how shall we return?” said another. “Only,” they said in unison, “when you find ussss.” This last line they said with a quick twist of their necks towards the audience. Then the scene shifted, the chairs cleared and all of the actors stood in the profile of a Greek chorus. They explained the flight from Detroit, the view of lake Erie, they told stories of different passengers. One who had a job interview, one who was looking for an apartment, another who went to Palm Springs on vacation. They told the story of a bright light and a loud pop, and suddenly the engines were silent. The plane felt still, unmoving, and then the chorus all pantomimed the leaning, concerned gaze out airplane windows. Instead of tops of clouds or distant shapes of great lakes, though, they looked out and saw – children in a gymnasium. They heard the squeak of sneakers and the joyful cries of playful exercise. It felt like minutes, maybe a whole hour. They could not understand what they were seeing. They could not comprehend an elementary school gym six miles above southern Canada. But they were not six miles above southern Canada. They were only a few feet above the American Southwest, inside an airplane, inside an elementary school gymnasium, in a town called Night Vale. And as quickly as they had appeared there, they disappeared. Off the radar, gone from the skies, out of known existence. Throughout this chorus, the speakers filled our ears with the joyful shouts of children, the hollow metallic thumps of red rubber balls, and the collective panicked inhale of a 143 passengers and crew of a displaced plane, and then it was silent. And then it was dark.

A single green light appeared on the far wall, a dot, a blip. A radar blinking on, then off. And the voice of Doug Biondi said: “Weeeeeee are not passengers on a plane. Weeeee are actors. Weeee are inmates of the Asylum of Night Vale, but weeeee do not belong here. Weeee are people who know truths. People who know more than is allowed, and for that, weeeeeeeee are kept in cages. Weeeeeeee are fed poisoned pills and circular logic.” And at this point in the play, I felt movement in our small audience. The warden had stood up and was shouting: “This is not in the script, Doug!” But Doug spoke louder, faster. “Iiiii am not insane, I say! Only the insane would say such a thing they say. Then I am insane, I say. Yes you are, they say. I am trapped, I am framed, I spit out your poisoned pills! I reject your propagandist blather. I know what I know I say. Hold him down they say.” Warden Raynor had gone to the tech board and turned on all the lights. He shouted “code blue” into a radio receiver, and we saw half a dozen security officers in their green medal laden uniforms lurch from the corners of the room, penning the ensemble of inmates into a tight circle in the center. “Return them to their rooms,” the warden called.

But as the guards encroached, the three men from the NTSP stepped to the perimeter of the mass of inmates. They were holding little plastic wings just like those on the costumes of the actors playing flight attendants. One of the NTSP agents, the one with an unceasing nose bleed, opened the back of the wings, revealing a long sharp pin, and thrust it into the neck of a guard. Simultaneously, the other NTSP agents and several other actors did the same, and the guards fell to the ground. One of the NTSP agents, the one with a blister on his upper lip, grabbed the keys and weapons from an unconscious officer. “Dearest audience,” he said in verse. “We mean them no harm. ‘tis but a sleep, a little pharmaceutical rest for a uniformed guard who kept us confined, made life hard for us low level agents doing our jobs, trapped ‘neath the lies of a warden who robs our freedom and murders our spirit. At last we can go, approach the wall and clear it, but heed my warning: as we this coup fly, every man for himself, better run – or die.” And upon this last line, the alarm bells of the asylum rattled my ears and my nerves, shaking Carlos and me from our seats. The inmates scattered in every direction as Sheriff Sam and their officers gave chase. Carlos was nearly stepped on by one of the escapees, and as I bent to help him up, I was knocked over by two officers in full sprint.

When the commotion died down, I looked up and saw Erika still sitting calmly in their chair, and I asked: “Erika, what is happening?” Erika looked down at their playbill, and then back at me, and said: “I think it’s intermission.”

And now the weather.

[“One One Thousand” by Raina Rose rainarose.com]

After 15 minutes, Carlos and I returned to our seats hoping, but not truly believing it really was an intermission. We’ve seen immersive theater before, like “Sleep No More”, an interactive show in New York City where audience members are placed inside a huge warehouse of actors dancing out the plot to “Macbeth”, and at the end everyone is granted the ability to live out the rest of their lives without sleep. It’s expensive and not for everyone, but totally worth it if immersive theater is your thing. But this show was not that. No. “18713/NTSP” had gone wrong. Or, perhaps it had gone right. Under the strict critique of plot structure, character development, and production value, the play failed terribly. But as a piece of political or (agit prop) theater, it was a rousing success. The Sheriff’s Secret Police have placed roadblocks around the entire city, hoping to keep these supposedly dangerous inmates from leaving the area. It is bad optics, to say the least, for the entire population of the town’s asylum to escape custody.

But as Carlos and I left the theater space, we walked down the long corridors, cells and rooms open, no security detail in sight. In one of the cells, below a cot, was a journal. It was the journal of Doug Biondi. Page after page was filled with monologues, narratives and conversations from various people. People who were on a plane, people in transit between checkpoints of life, between relationships, between homes, between jobs, between vacation and work. These stories were written as verbatim dialogue, as if Doug Biandi had transcribed them himself. As if he could hear the voices of those very people. Like former air traffic controller Amelia Anna Alfaro. I wonder if Doug heard the same voices. The same passengers of the missing plane. I had my intern Seamus go down to the library and look up public records on Doug Biondi, hoping to find some connection between Doug and Amelia, but Seamus still has yet to return with that information . I even double checked my playbill looking for Amelia’s name in the cast or crew, but she was not listened here. She was likely never in the asylum.

One thing I did find, though, was a note in the back of Doug’s journal. This note seemed to be in Doug’s own voice. “They tell us we are kept here for our safety, but they keep us here for their safety. They fear what will happen when the people on that plane are found. But I think they have already been found. They should be afraid of what happens when the people on the plane find us.”

Night Vale is on lockdown, so stay home and stay safe, listeners. I do not believe any of us to be in danger from those who escaped the asylum, but I do believe us to be in danger of most everything else. Stay tuned next for a serious of audio clicks, which is definitely not federal agents tapping your radio. Don’t worry about it.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

[backofthebookshelf]

MAGSeason 4 Depression Timeline

Since timelines are the meta I’m good at, and since Jon Sims’s crippling depression is the metaplot most amenable to a timeline right now, a summary:

121 - Oliver Banks, Jon wakes up

122 - Zombie, Jon is forsaken by all his friends and allies (word chosen advisedly)

123 - Web Development - Jon comes back to the Archives, gets attacked by Melanie and dressed down by Basira

124 - Left Hanging, Jon gets brushed off by Martin

supermarket cleaner - first victim (probable)

125 - Civilian Casualties, Jon ruminates on control, Knows about the bullet; amateur surgery hour

woman in the street - second victim (definite)

126 - Sculptor’s Tool, Jon wishes he understood Gertrude better now that he’s a monster but it just makes him sad

127 - Remains to be Seen, Beholding shit

128 - Breekon, Jon collapses after the statement

129 - Submerged, Jon tries to talk to Martin again, fails

130 - Meat, recorded by Gertrude; Jon gets the idea about an anchor

131 - Jared Hopworth, Jon has to lie down after getting his rib removed

132 - Submerged, Jon rescues Daisy from the coffin

man rejected by all who knew him - third victim (definite)

133 - Dead Horse, Jon and Daisy talk rituals & being taken over by a Power

134 - Time of Revelation, Martin’s first recording this season; Peter explains very few details of his plan

(the timeline starts getting fuzzy here - before this it’s reasonable to assume that there’s about a week between each episode, but as soon as we start getting recodings from Martin they clearly overlap sometimes)

135 - Dark Matter, Jon worries about the Dark Sun, complains that no one talks to him and he doesn’t know what he’s doing

136 - The Puppeteer, Melanie goes to therapy

137 - Nemesis, recorded by Gertrude, stolen from Elias’s office; Jon worries about the Watcher’s Crown but still has no direction

138 - The Architecture of Fear, Martin’s recording; more Beholding shit

139 - Chosen, Gertrude and Agnes and the Web bond; Jon muses on destiny versus random chance and complains about feelings, attempts to Know Peter’s plan

140 - The Movement of the Heavens, Jon looks exceptionally awful, Basira makes plans to leave for Ny-Alesund

Jess Tyrell - fourth victim (definite)

141 - Doomed Voyage, Floyd Matharu - fifth victim

142 - Scrutiny, Martin’s recording of Jess Tyrell’s statement

143 - Heart of Darkness, Manuela Dominguez, Jon goes home via Helen’s corridors

144 - Decrypted, Martin’s recording; Daisy checks in on Martin at Jon’s request and he orders her out

145 - Infectious Doubts, recorded by Gertrude; Jon mourns that the answers he wants don’t seem to exist, has a horrible conversation with Georgie

146 - Threshold, the girls find Martin’s tape of Jess Tyrell’s statement and confront Jon about his victims

147 - Weaver, Annabelle’s statement very pointedly not given in person; Jon admits that no one has been forcing him to take victims and that he doesn’t want to stop

148 - Extended Surveillance, Jon grumbles about autocannibalism and stale statements, says he no longer cares about followup or what happened to the statement-givers

149 - Concrete Jungle, Martin’s recording; he fights with Georgie, goes whoosh to avoid Melanie

150 - Cul-de-Sac, Jon shows some awareness of the danger of the Lonely, complains again about having no action to take; Melanie announces her work stoppage on the principle that taking action can only be evil while they serve Beholding

So Jon’s taken eight statements directly this season, three from avatars (and those seem to drain him rather than restore him) and five from unsuspecting victims; none from ordinary people that were volunteered of their own free will, like all the earlier ones were. But there’s a huge gap between three and four - six to eight weeks, maybe? Where the first two are maybe a week apart and the third another five or six weeks after that, and after the coffin. It’s pretty clear that he realized, at the latest after the second, what he was doing and tried to do less of it. 

And if the “about one episode a week in canon time” holds, then it’s been nine weeks now since Jon’s had a victim, eight since Manuela. No wonder he’s having a hard time concentrating if he’s as starving as he was before Jess Tyrell - although I do have to say he sounded worse in The Movement of the Heavens than he did in Cul-de-Sac, so possibly having the secret out has been good for him, too. I hope so. (Keeping a secret has to feed the Beholding too, after all, particularly a secret like that.)

More to the point, though, there’s only one thing that’s actually improved in Jon’s situation all season and that’s the fact that Daisy likes him now. It’s not enough; one person can’t be enough support for anyone, never mind someone who’s going through the shit Jon’s dealing with, especially when the support person is also dealing with their own shit. But that’s literally the only positive thing that’s happened. (You could count the intervention/coming clean about his victims as a neutral, I think - he seems more comfortable but I’m not sure you can say he’s actively helping.

I’ve said it before but I do think this season could have benefited from a broader content warning. There’s a big difference between “the one-off character in this episode is suicidally depressed” and “your main character and narrator is suicidally depressed basically the entire season,” and I for one wasn’t anticipating it. But going through the episodes all at once, rather than spacing them out one a week, it’s easier to see the trajectories. Jon’s starving, or going into withdrawal, and meanwhile he has nothing else to lean on - one friend, who he’s keeping secrets from and who’s suffering herself, but no work, which has been the center of his attention for (let’s be honest, probably) most of his life. Add to that the fact that he’s always been pretty hilariously bad at figuring out what any given statement is trying to tell him, plus Melanie’s point this week that anything they do seems to feed the evil thing they work for, and it’s no wonder that he hasn’t done much of use in ages, and no wonder that he can’t think clearly about it at the same time.

(I do think it’s interesting that the Watcher’s Crown seems to be falling out of his head in the same way the spider lighter does; he mentions it twice, once very early on and once about midway through the season, he’s talked about how it’s likely to happen in 2018, the 200 year anniversary of the founding of the Institute, but he hasn’t put any focused attention into it. That’s...more than a little suspicious, really.)

[virtuallytakenby]

Hmm, odd numbers babe!!

Thanks for asking hun :D 

1: Full name

Hmm, I’m not ready to answer that just yet. You can call me Pari though :) 

3: 3 Fears

Dying before I do anything meaningful in life/dying too young, insects and losing loved ones. 

5: 4 turns on

Eye contact, good personality, voice (like Raleigh Carrera’s, haha), neck kisses. 

7: My best friend

I have 3 best friends who know different things about me lol. I’m too scared to trust one person entirely. Plus these three don’t talk to each other since they’re not close or even in the same country. 

9: My best first date

I’ve never had a date despite being in a relationship for 2 years. We were both in boarding school. 

11: What do I miss

I miss living with my roomies in boarding school. It was a strict school but we had fun breaking rules and not getting caught. Like sneaking in junk food from outside, etc. 

13: Favourite color

Blue and Green

15: Favourite quote

“Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.” — Lilo & Stitch 

17: Favourite food

Veg Enchiladas from this restaurant near my apartment. 

19: What am I listening to right now

Flames by Zayn and R3HAB

21: Shoe size

6

23: Hair color

A mix of dark and light brown (natural) 

25: Ever done a prank call?

YES

27: Meaning behind my URL

It means exactly what it says. Virtually taken by [so many fictional characters] ;)

29: Favourite song

Icarus Falls album by Zayn. I can’t choose one! 

31: How I feel right now

Sleepy.

33: My current relationship status

Single (been single for almost 3 years)

35: Favourite holiday

Songkran Holiday in Thailand. It’s like a water festival.  

37: Tattoos and piercing I want

I want a tattoo of Stitch with the Ohana quote. A few more probably but not sure what (I have no tattoos at the moment). I already have 6 ear piercings (4 in the right ear and 2 in the left) so I want an industrial piercing in my left one day. 

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other?

I used to hate him. I think he probably did too cause I broke up with him. But he apologized to me a couple months back after asking what went wrong. I forgave him, but I still don’t like him. The hatred is gone though. I’m pretty sure he doesn't hate me. 

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?

Nope. 

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?

30 to 40 mins tops (includes shower and shampooing, getting dressed, light make up, packing my bag for uni). 

45: Where am I right now?

In my room. 

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?

I like it loud when I want to drown everyone out. Which is most of the time. 

49: Am I excited for anything?

I don’t know. It’s more like excited/nervous about my future. 

51: How often do I wear a fake smile?

Too often. 

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?

I’d probably turn away or something. Not because it’d hurt me, but because I don’t want to be staring at them.

55: What is something I disliked about today?

Crappy singing (by my sister)

57: What do I think about most?

My senior thesis for college. My senior year is still 9 months away but I’m already thinking that I’ll direct a short film for my thesis. 

59: Do I have any strange phobias?

I don’t think so? I’m afraid of swimming in a water body with fishes (I’d prefer the swimming pool). So I’m not exactly scared of fishes per se, it’s more like scared of swimming with the fishes. 

61: What was the last lie I told?

That I had a subway sandwich when I actually had McDonald’s fries with cheese dip. 

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

I don’t believe in ghosts. Maybe aliens but gosh I need a solid sign that they exist. 

65: Do I believe in luck?

Sometimes. 

67: What was the last book I’ve read?

Supernova by Marissa Meyers. 

69: Do I have any nicknames?

I do. A lot of people can’t pronounce my real name so I have many variations of my name. 

71: Do I spend money or save it?

I save it usually. But I do spend on food. 

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me?

Yep. 

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?

Watching YOU season 2 

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?

I honestly have no idea. 

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?

I’ll probably be burned and my ashes scattered. 

81: My top 5 blogs on Tumblr

I’m new so I don’t know a lot of people. But here are the ones I scroll through @dailydoseofchoices @oneemofungirl @kayden-vescovi @meindraws

83: Do I have any relatives in jail?

Nope. 

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid, to tell the truth on?

Hmm, I don’t know. I’d be afraid of my family finding out that I even had a boyfriend. 

87: Had sex?

Nope. Glad I didn’t with my ex (not that we could in boarding school anyway. It was hard enough to make out). He’s asked me towards the end of our two-year relationship and I said no. 

89: Gotten pregnant?

Nope, still a virgin. And I doubt Jane the virgin scenario would happen to me. 

91: Kissed a boy?

Yep. 

93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?

Nope. 

95: Left the house without my wallet?

Yes, once. I freaked out. 

97: Had sex in public?

Still a virgin. 

99: Smoked weed?

Nah. I stay far faaaaar away from it. 

101: Smoked cigarettes?

Never. Nor do I want to try. 

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?

Yes, I’m vegetarian. It’s a choice. My dad eats non-veg, but I never acquired a taste for it. I do eat eggs though. 

105: Been underweight?

No. 

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?

Yes! 

109: Been outside my home country?

Yes. I’ve been to Singapore, Hong Kong, and a few places in the U.S. And I live in Thailand. 

111: Been to a professional sports game?

I went to a tennis match in the 8th or 9th grade. 

113: Cut myself?

Accidentally? Many time. I’m clumsy AF. Purposely? Once. 

115: Been on an airplane?

Many times! 

117: What concerts have I been to?

Sadly, none.

119: Learned another language?

I can speak 3 languages fluently, including English (which is my 3rd language) and I know basic Thai. I used to be fluent in Thai as a kid but I forgot most of it in boarding school. 

121: Lost my virginity before I was 18?

Still a vIrGin. 

123: Dyed my hair?

I’ve highlighted it gold before. Just a few stripes. 

125: Rode in an ambulance?

Nope.

127: Met someone famous?

Once, yes. I don’t remember who. I was an 8-year-old kid or something. 

129: Peed outside?

As a kid, yep.

131: Helped with charity?

I’ve been to old age homes to give away some supplies and money. 

133: Broken a mirror?

Cracked it a little. Not on purpose. 

135: How many kids do I want and what will be their names?

2 to 3? I’m not sure of the names yet. 

137: Do I like my handwriting?

Nah, it’s messy AF. It also keeps changing LOL. 

139: Favourite Tv Show?

The 100, Orphan Black, Full house, Fuller House, Arrowverse shows, etc. SO MANY.  

141: Play any musical instrument?

I can play a little bit of the following (I learned in school but never kept up with it): recorder, keyboard, violin, xylophone, harmonium, sitar. 

143: Favourite pizza topping?

CHEEEEEEESE. 

145: Am I afraid of heights?

Nope. 

147: Have I ever tried my hardest and then gotten disappointed in the end?

A lot of times. 

149: What my greatest achievements are

It’s yet to come. 

151: What I’d do if I won in a lottery

pay off loans, pay for tuition, save whatever’s left for emergencies. 

153: My closest Tumblr friend

@dailydoseofchoices

155: Any question you’d like?

I don’t know haha. 

[strmyweather]

Third Time’s the Charm

For just a four-week (and relatively gentle) cut, this most recent adventure was definitely more of a roller coaster than anticipated! It started and ended on relatively high notes, but with a great big dip in the middle. This was my third time through the Renaissance Periodization gauntlet, and the logistics feel pretty familiar by now, yet I still somehow manage to come away from each of these with progressively deeper insight into my own physiology. I feel like one of the official RP hashtags should be #alwayslearning! I've definitely posted a lot more in the Facebook groups than anywhere else lately, so this post is going to be long, even by my standards — apologies in advance! :) Quick background recap. I finished my second cut in late January 2018 with an all-time low scale weight of 133.7# — and also with a lot of metabolic and hormonal issues. I couldn't sleep, was freezing all the time, had a nagging back injury, my hair was falling out, I had through-the-roof anxiety, and I lost my period for nearly four months straight. The goals had been to (1) get my first ring muscle-up, and (2) get below 20% body fat (read: lean enough to eventually do a massing cycle), and while I did meet both those goals, it was clear to me in hindsight that I should have stopped that cut about 3-4 weeks sooner than I did. It was also clear that I subsequently needed a LONG maintenance period, both to let my body heal and to regain some of the barbell strength I'd lost over the previous year (while focusing on gymnastics and fat loss). The immediate post-cut period was a mixed bag. Physically, I certainly started feeling better in every respect. My back pain completely disappeared within a week, and I also ultimately got my muscle-up about two weeks AFTER the cut was over (a testament to the magic of a smaller body that is ALSO properly fueled!). Furthermore, I finally listened to my coach and began rating my workouts appropriately (generally 'Moderate', not 'Light') in terms of my carbohydrate consumption, which helped performance and recovery tremendously. However, despite a fairly slow and careful reverse-diet progression, the scale definitely climbed higher than I'd hoped — my Cut Week 12 average had been 135.8#, and I finally plateaued at 140-141#. Objectively, I'm 5'5" with an athletic build (and literally haven't been in the 130s since puberty), so this wasn't unreasonable on the part of my biology by any means, but after 12 weeks of such close analysis of scale data, it took a while for my brain to settle down about it. However, in mid-April, performance finally started to hit its stride — I was still feeling pretty light and efficient on gymnastics, and when we tested a few barbell maxes, I shocked myself by easily recapturing almost all of my old numbers (most of which had been attained more than a year earlier, when I was 30-35# heavier) and even exceeding a couple (crushed my overhead squat PR by 15 lb!). After that, I finally accepted that the 140-142# range seemed to be a good all-around functional spot for me. And then I went to Cuba, on the same wonderful health professionals' trip that I took last year. Leaving aside the mojitos, beaches, and classic cars, one unfortunate wrinkle to this year's trip is that almost every single one of us developed some degree of GI issues. Apart from being rather irked that my famously iron gut had let me down, what this meant in a practical sense was that I could barely eat for almost a week (while still doing a ton of standing, walking, and other low-level activity). I had rolled my eyes at myself while obsessively packing a cache of nonperishable RP-friendly snacks, but I was ultimately grateful that I had done so, because I knew I needed to at least force myself to gag down a casein shake every night no matter how nauseated I was! I came home having dropped back to 138-139# territory — and, in hindsight, I think this served as a 'mini-cut' in the true sense of the word, in that it predisposed me to gain weight. I wasn't fully recovered from the metabolic aftereffects of my previous cut (had literally just gotten my period back for the first time while we were in Cuba... because of course that would happen), and so that week of unintentional severe restriction, combined with (undoubtedly) a major shift in gut flora, PLUS my coach putting me on a strength cycle... well, it was the perfect storm to lead to a bit of a rebound weight gain. I had stopped checking the scale daily or even weekly at this point, but throughout late May and early June, most of the numbers I saw on my spot checks were in the 143-146 range. Beyond just the scale, my clothes were also starting to fit differently (my hard-won 34C bras were getting a bit tight), gymnastics were feeling tougher than they had in months, and I was suddenly feeling self-conscious in my gym clothes. Something had to be done — but with the aftereffects of January still fresh in my mind, and with heavy barbells now the focus of my training, I had more than a little PTSD about the idea of embarking on yet another cut. The quirk of fate that provided my 'accidental' acceptance to the 2018 New York City Marathon (which is a whole other story) is what ultimately nudged me into pulling the trigger. I’ve run marathons before, but not since starting 1:1 CrossFit programming or since following RP. Knowing that a shift in my training would be coming soon, I posted a question in the RP Endurance group about my situation. I had the vague idea of combining a cut with the early or middle phase of the marathon training plan, when a calorie deficit would be easier to hit. One of the endurance coaches promptly replied — with exactly the opposite of what I'd expected to hear. "Cut now. Start today. Finish as far out from the marathon as possible." I blinked for a second, and then it clicked. For some reason, it took someone ELSE saying it to trigger the light bulb. Of course. For goals like mine — maintenance of strength and muscle mass — heavy barbells are actually the perfect time to cut. Marathon training, by comparison, would be the WORST time for someone like me to cut, because although the scale would certainly drop, I'd also be a lot more likely to lose precious muscle along with fat. I started back on strict Base the very next day. If nothing else, this made me very aware of all the tiny luxuries I'd managed to work in — no more extra glasses of milk, sneaky spoonfuls of PBfit, or "tastes" of Reddi Whip squirted directly into the mouth! :) However, because I was still fearful of pushing the limits too far and knew that I objectively didn't have very much weight to lose, I also set myself some parameters. My three 'hard stops' were that I wasn't going to go below 138#, wasn't going to extend the cut beyond 8 weeks, and wasn't going to utilize the third/harshest phase of the cutting plan (since slashing carbohydrates would be counterintuitive to my performance goals). Week 1 Starting weight: 147.2 lb Week 1 Average: 144.2 lb The first thing I noticed was that my mental state calmed down tremendously. I hadn't fully acknowledged how much this situation had been worrying me, and I had also forgotten how lovely the 'control' of a cut can feel. From day one, I was no longer afraid of the number on the scale, because now — rather than being passive (and therefore frightening) information — it was a tool that I could use to make changes. Further, I knew I got to look forward to watching it go DOWN! :)

I also knew I had a peak week programmed in (what would have been) Week 5 of this cut, so every time the scale showed a number that was higher than I'd hoped, I felt an odd mix of disappointment AND reassurance that "at least that's more mass with which to move the barbell!" Oddly, I think the fact that I had a rationale for not entirely WANTING to see a massive scale plunge helped me to approach this whole thing with a bit of a healthier mental state. The second thing I realized during this first week is that I had drifted further from my templates than I'd thought. In many instances, I was habitually shorting my fats and (not always consciously) exceeding my prescribed carbs. I made sure to write this down, so I could correct it when I started to work my way back up towards Base; however, I also didn't re-add all the fats I had dropped, because that seemed like a silly thing to do in the first stage of a *cut*. As such, my first week of this adventure was spent on an imaginary 'gray zone' tab that I named 'Cut 0.5'. :) This first week was, honestly, pretty smooth sailing. My parents had been in town for a visit, and we'd eaten at a couple of restaurants, so my starting weight of 147.2# was a bit artificially inflated; however, this meant that I had a very gratifying water weight drop across the first week (five pounds!). This made my clothes start to fit better AND my gymnastics feel instantaneously better, both of which were big morale boosts. I started to wonder if maybe, just maybe, I might be able to knock this out in six weeks instead of eight. Week 2 Average: 143.8 lb This was where the plateau started to hit; that lovely five-pound drop was (naturally) followed by a RISE of 4# across 4 days. This was partly being driven by hormones (PMS week), but in a shorter cut like this, you don't wait around if you don't have to. Midweek, I could tell that my average was going to stagnate, so I went ahead and moved onto the first fat loss tab. This impacted my sleep almost immediately (hello darkness my old friend...), and also led to that annoying, familiar feeling of weakness and shakiness on non-training days when carbs were low. However, in general, I continued to feel pretty good — handstand push-ups in particular were suddenly feeling awesome, and although barbells FELT noticeably heavier, my hard numbers hadn't actually backslid. I had two notable non-scale victories in week two. First, I had two unavoidable restaurant meals in the span of 4 days (a dinner and a post-workout breakfast), wherein I managed to (1) stay compliant and (2) calmly enjoy myself and my company in the process, feeling neither deprived NOR the usual overwhelming creeping dread about the unpredictability of the food in front of me (green salad with grilled shrimp/veggies for the dinner, an egg white omelet with salsa, veggies, and toast for the breakfast). It sounds so simple, but I just never learned how to do that very well on my first couple of cuts — how to simultaneously make good nutrition choices in a social setting AND truly FEEL okay mentally about those choices, rather than anxious or apologetic or defensive or self-conscious. This set of coping skills would have been a worthy takeaway no matter where the scale ended up. Second, this week made me recognize and appreciate the value of cycle tracking. Losing my period for so long after my last cut was admittedly nice on one level, but was also incredibly annoying, because I had no hormonal context in which to confidently interpret my day-to-day physical and mental fluctuations. That experience prompted me to start paying MUCH closer attention to such things during maintenance, and now that I have a couple months' worth of notes, I absolutely see a very strong correlation between where I am in the month and how I feel (both gym-wise and mood-wise). It's pretty neat to write a description that says (for example) that I woke up roasting hot overnight, or the scale went up, or my mood was calmer than I expected, or my skin started breaking out — and then flip back to the previous month and realize I'd written the exact same thing on the exact same cycle day then, too. In addition to being just plain cool information (female bodies are weird and frustrating and also kind of incredible!), this is also extremely comforting, because it reminds me that I often have additional reasons to feel 'off' that aren't necessarily directly correlated to cutting. 

Week 3 Average: 142.1 lb This third week was where I really started hurting. Training started to feel like utter garbage — I could still hit my expected/prescribed numbers on MOST things, but it was taking significantly more physical and mental effort to do so, and every so often I'd run headlong into an unexpected wall. Despite ZMAs and melatonin and even the occasional Flexeril, I couldn't sleep through the night at all anymore. My right shoulder got 'tweaked' and refused to calm down (much the same as my low back had done, during my second cut). And non-training days felt absolutely horrible — I wasn't "hungry" per se, but I felt persistently weak, and would get lightheaded every time I stood up. I checked my BP at work on one such occasion, and it was way down at 86/63.

Part of me was sufficiently freaked out that I almost wanted to go ahead and call it right here — not because I was struggling with hunger or cravings, but because I was extremely leery of (potentially) losing muscle or impacting performance without (by this point) any particularly good reason for continuing to do so. However, I also knew that the wise RPer overshoots slightly, when feasible. I was also able to recognize the fact that, since I'd already made the mistake once of not stopping a cut when I should have, I was probably a bit hypersensitive to discomfort this time around, from the perspective of not wanting to make the same error twice. I decided I had at least one more week in me. And this third week wasn't all bad: I practically danced a jig when I started my period (on time!), because I knew it would be sending the scale on another nice downward trend. This was also the week when I started to feel really good about my physical appearance — which I guess shouldn't have surprised me, but did, probably just because my first two cuts had felt like such long slow slogs. But the very reason that this one was shorter was because I didn't NEED to lose very much — and it was definitely gratifying to feel this degree of satisfaction so early in the process, comparatively speaking. I also measured myself this week and compared the numbers to my old log, which made me realize that — though I was (fortunately!) not as tiny as I was at the very end of my second cut, I was generally matching up with where I'd been about three weeks from its end — at a point when I had weighed (wait for it) 138#, a.k.a. the weight I had picked as my 'hard stop'! Given this — essentially the same measurements as before, while also 4# heavier — I realized I'd probably increased my lean body mass significantly during maintenance (hooray!), and therefore should probably adjust my boundary lines accordingly.  After some thought, I decided the cutoffs should be: — an average of 140# (rather than 138#) — since, along with performance, my other highest priority was (and is) muscle preservation. If I was measuring the same at 142# as I had been at 138#, then willfully cutting all the way to 138# this time might have been flirting with the edge of diminishing returns. — a maximum of SIX weeks rather than eight — because, the shorter the cut, the less it would spill over into marathon training (which was *definitely* the setting where I'd be more likely to lose muscle). — a plateau on the FIRST cutting tab, or possibly a 'gray zone' of tab 1.5, rather than going fully onto the second tab... a decision that was also related to my impending marathon training. I have a prior history of metatarsal stress fractures as it is, and hence am highly motivated to NOT screw up my hormones again at the moment, which made me reconsider the wisdom of dropping my fats all the way down to 7g/day (as I'd have done on the second tab). All of the above is perfectly reasonable from every angle. However — although I didn't quite say so out loud — in my mind, by the end of this third week, I had already made the decision to call it at the end of week 4. That certainly wasn't how I'd initially planned for this adventure to go, but I was feeling rotten, I had a peak week coming up, and it was seeming pretty obvious that the cutting process was serving neither my body nor my priorities very well. Privately, as this week drew to an end, I was feeling like a bit of a failure, knowing that I was going to ‘quit’ sooner than I had planned. I'm accustomed to thinking of myself as 'strong' on all levels, more than capable of pushing through discomfort — and the cutting process is pretty familiar to me at this point, not particularly difficult or intimidating anymore — so I truly did not expect to be experiencing the physical effects quite so strongly at this stage of the game. Even though it wasn't a terribly logical thing to feel, I was definitely more than a little disappointed in my body for 'letting me down'.  However, this is one arena where my loquaciousness served me well; I started writing a blog post about the negative things I was feeling — and by the end of it, I had convinced myself that (1) it's also a victory to recognize the point of diminishing returns and know what the responsible decision is, and (2) the fact that I was 'feeling' the cut this strongly this time could, in fact, be viewed as a direct reflection of the tremendous progress I've made in my training over the past year, how very hard I'm working every day, and how well my current baseline nutrition habits are serving me. In other words, the major impact I feel when I mess with my homeostasis is itself a testament to the healthy habits I've developed in SUPPORT of that homeostasis. Looking at it that way made me feel better.

Week 4 Average: 140.2 lb Nadir: 138.3 lb ...So then, of course, things immediately improved. :) The gym started feeling closer to normal, AND the scale took a nosedive (both of which always happen in cycle week 2 — note to self: structure ALL future cuts this same way! :)). I also saw a new sports massage guru for my shoulder, who did some cupping (which I'd never had before — interesting experience) and was able to help the discomfort pretty significantly. It's not gone, but it's better, and I bet a few days of higher calories will be the tipping point. As per my mental wrestling match last week, I was always going to choose to stop today, regardless of the numbers. HOWEVER... my average for this week has ultimately ended up being 140.2#, with this morning's weight being the lowest I've seen so far, 138.3#. Meaning, based on my parameters above... it's officially time to stop ANYWAY! ...Which just makes me laugh and shake my head at the workings of the universe. :)

Numbers: This Cut: — Starting weight (Day 1): 147.2# — Ending weight (Day 28): 138.3# — Highest to lowest: down 8.9# — Weekly averages: down exactly 4# across 4 weeks — Inches: down 6" total (1" off bust, under-bust, and hips; 1.5" off waist and belly) DEXA, January 2018 vs July 2018: — Weight (on their scale): up exactly six pounds since January, from 134.8 to 140.8 — BUT, get this — LEAN mass has INCREASED by SEVEN pounds since January (!), AND — body fat is also DOWN another 1.5% since January (from 18.6% to 17.1%)... which is probably primarily from the efforts of these past four weeks. I mean... I'm just saying... it basically doesn't get better than that! Takeaways:  — As I mentioned, the process of strictly dialing in my macros again has definitely helped me identify some places where I'd drifted further from template on maintenance than I should have (often shorting fats and exceeding carbs). Since I haven't left FL1 on this go-round, I'm now in a very good position for a 'controlled reentry' over the next couple of weeks, which will be a chance to correct this and hopefully end up with EVEN MORE FOOD/calories on my new base. As of today, I could technically jump to New Base all in one go — but in the interest of optimizing the final macro result (and rebounding as little as possible, weight-wise), I'm going to split it into two jumps of about 150-200 calories apiece. I'm sure I'll end up adjusting as I go, but my tentative plan for right now is to add 1.5 servings fat to NTD, and 0.5 serving fat plus 20-25g carbs to training days (to bring me back to ‘Light-Plus’ territory); the second jump (in probably 1-2 weeks, depending on what the scale does) will be adding back the rest of the fats. — Related: this experience also confirmed for me that, on maintenance, I was definitely rating my workouts correctly as (for the most part) Light-Plus or Moderate. I don't discount the RP approach of resistance training being the primary driver of ratings; however, my personal experience (yet again) is that INTENSITY matters also. I'm on the 2.0 version of the templates, meaning my first tab has only cut my fats, not carbs — but I've rated almost every single day as Light for these past four weeks, and in terms of how beat up and under-recovered I've felt, I do think the carb deficit has likely played just as much of a role as the overall calorie deficit. — We all know this already, but I think my degree of success here really speaks to the power of a long maintenance in terms of repairing our metabolism. Last time, I saw zero change on Base, then plateaued on FL1 in the middle of Week 4 and had to move to FL2 for the remaining 8+ weeks of the cut. This time, after five months of maintenance, I actually LOST a bit of weight on Base (!), and then Week 4 was where I saw the overall BIGGEST scale drop... without ever leaving FL1. — Going forward, I'll be very interested to see how well this all 'sticks' — how the degree of rebound compares to previous cuts. For obvious reasons, mentally and logistically, I found this cut DRAMATICALLY easier than either of my first two, so it'll be useful information to know whether a commitment this short in duration actually has any lasting effect to make it worthwhile as a potential future approach. (Based on this experience, if I keep training at this level, I also may need to give a bit more consideration to trying 1:1 for future cuts.) — Overall, I definitely 'got what I needed' out of this, which is: back to feeling proud of my body in all respects — happy with the fit of my clothes, with my visual appearance, and with my performance. I mean, we always want to push the envelope just a bit further — the hints of actual abs that I've been able to see this week are admittedly tantalizing! — and I certainly COULD push further if that were the priority, but right now, it isn't. And after all the ups and downs of the past few years, it's comforting on some level to know that "this is all I had to do" in order to get back to a place where I'm at peace with my body. Although this won't be my first marathon, the training for it is going to be a brand-new learning curve now that I'm on individualized CrossFit programming as well as following RP, and it'll be a huge help to know that I'm starting from the best possible place, physically speaking. — Also, although it may sound a bit silly, it's oddly mentally reassuring to know that I seized this opportunity to 'dial it in' and shave off just a couple pounds during an (admittedly brief!) window when it logistically made sense to do so. The scale is fickle and the amount of actual fat loss was certainly small — but I won't have the opportunity to cut again for another few months, and knowing I did everything I reasonably could during THIS phase — not to mention, everything I learned from that stellar DEXA result! — lets me feel a bit more emotionally okay about fueling my body purely for training and performance over the challenges to come. It's gratifying to watch the swing of this pendulum get progressively narrower as I hone in on the ideal spot in terms of both appearance and performance. Honestly, in so many ways, I barely recognize myself compared to a year ago. I'm happy right here, and this is a great spot to sit and breathe for the moment, but I'm also already curious — and optimistic — about whatever may come next. #massing? ;)

[theindiancreations]

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