#I may not have achieved much this summer but I achieved SOMETHING

[thatiwouldbe]

Besties jinkx saw my drawing of her and shared it on her story

#we're going through it #I may not have achieved much this summer but I achieved SOMETHING #md rambles

[bumblequinn]

hi @sourpatchsquids! thank you for your question.

as an artist with ADHD, i know this struggle very well. unfortunately offering advice on this kind of thing can be tricky, because what works for me may not work for you (and vice versa!). nonetheless, i can try; take whatever works for you, forget the rest, or reshape any part of it as you see fit. :)

but before i offer any actual tools, i have one caveat. i want you to take a moment to reflect and consider if you should be:

changing expectations

the timing of this question seems fated, because just the other day i had a therapy session wherein i expressed my grief and frustration over struggling to work lately due to my seasonal depression. it's not fair that i'm struggling just because it got a little darker outside! i just want the spark i had in the summer! i was so much more consistent!

my therapist's response: nothing about human beings is consistent. we get sick, we get tired, we get hungry and thirsty (and thirsty) and sad and lonely and restless and stressed and overwhelmed. this all gets amplified for folks who are atypical in some way or another.

when my therapist compared our seasonal cycles to those of plants and other animals, who wilt and slow down and hibernate, i protested aloud that i wanted to be a perennial instead. at this she said: even perennials change with the seasons. rose bushes have to be pruned, sometimes down to half their height! it was a dose of perspective i didn't particularly want, but really needed.

so when you're struggling to work through executive dysfunction, burnout, or brain fog, it can help to first check in with yourself about a few things. what do you have the capacity for right now? do you need any accommodation? and if so, what changes you might make to accommodate yourself?

with practice and self reflection, i've learned a handful of specific routines that help me when i'm struggling with creative work, which i'll detail next. note that while your question is specifically about music and i am specifically a musician, i believe that all of these suggestions can apply to most any form of digital creative work.

with that in mind:

#1: work slower

when i'm at the top of my game, i can get a LOT done in a day. but when i'm depressed, fatigued, or distracted, i just can't go full steam. sometimes i'll try to convince myself that i can if i just push harder, but what actually ends up happening is that i'm just fiddling with settings and going in circles rather than moving forward.

instead of that, when i want to work a lot but can't, i try to work slow. how slow? however slow i need to. take four hours to figure out the melody for a single verse. take all day to figure out that drum groove. yeah, i take a lot of breaks in between. who says i have to be my Absolute Most Productive Every Day Or Else? that's the puritan work ethic talking. kill it. be kind to yourself.

i'm reminded of advice i once read about some super successful and prolific author (gaiman? king? pratchett?) who said they wrote only four hundred words every weekday. that's already less than the word count of this post, and i'm only—[travels into the future to check my final word count]... 22.8% of the way through writing it!

now, i don't think i could function that way, because ADHD means some days i'm hyperfocused like crazy, and other days i just have no steam at all (more on that in #4-6). but it seems to me that if even someone highly respected in their profession can achieve what they have with only a little bit of work on a regular basis, maybe i don't have to punish myself for not pumping out a finished work every single week.

doing less work per day means you're much less likely to burn out, which does a lot for working more consistently. if that consistency still doesn't look like a five-day work week, that's okay! as long as it helps you work even a little more often when you want to, it's something worth doing.

however, if you're still feeling truly stuck, all hope isn't lost. you can still try:

#2: switch projects

sometimes the reason i'm moving slow is because of a bad brain day, but sometimes the reason is that i just cannot muster the motivation to do the specific task i'm trying to do right now. ADHD is fueled by novelty and interest, and if i'm not interested in what i'm doing, or it's feeling stale, that's a sign that i need to switch gears.

this is why first it's helpful for me to have more than one project going at a time. this might mean completely unrelated works, or it might just mean related tracks as with the music for a game like SLARPG or susan taxpayer.

the idea here is not to start a dozen different projects and bounce around them like i'm playing whac-a-mole—though i have done that. (i don't recommend it.) the idea here is to have a manageable number of different projects i can be working on so that if i get bored or stuck on something, i have fallback options.

what that number of projects is depends entirely on the week. maybe right now it's two, maybe another time it's three. i would probably be getting carried away if i tried more than that, but that's just my own limit. maybe yours is different. that's something for you to think about.

but it doesn't have to stop there.

#3: switch focus

maybe there is this one project that i just HAVE to work on, but the task i'm trying to do at this stage just isn't coming to me. okay, well, why don't i try working on a different task?

let's say i can't figure out what i want to do with the melody in one part of the song:

what if i try jumping ahead to a different part of the melody? ...no, i'm stumped on melodies today. okay, how about working on the drums instead? ...hmm no, i think i'm just completely tapped out on writing parts right now. alright, what if i organized my tracks, making sure they're all grouped and named in a way that i can work with easily? what if i did a rough volume balance for the mix?

and so on. if that's not enough to shake the off stuckness, i might consider: what can i do to make this project more interesting to me?

what happens if i try using an instrument or effect that i almost never reach for? what if i try sampling something obscure? what if i bang out the drums using my midi keyboard instead of drawing it in on the piano roll?

any approach that breaks me out of my usual habits is bound to get that feeling of novelty and fun back when i need it.

or maybe i can't do any of that right now, and so i take the time to answer a question from a fellow musician instead. i consider that part of my work, too, in a broader sense. check in with yourself and figure out what you can do right now. the rest will still be there later.

but okay, let's say you try switching gears, and switching again, and again, and nothing is moving. you try new approaches, but that wall of awful is insurmountable in this moment. it happens! the next thing you might try is:

#4: learn something new

when you aren't able to make progress on your projects, you can still make progress on your knowledge and craft. i often find this stokes a flame of inspiration in me where there wasn't one before. and even when it doesn't, it still gets my brain out of that feeling of stuckness and dread and into one of thought and action. learning also benefits in the long term because it adds to the well of knowledge from which you draw for all your future works.

for all the awfulness that exists on the internet, it remains an absolute treasure trove of teaching. there's an endless ocean of videos, blog posts, and articles from which you might learn something about your craft. (and if you sail the seven seas, plenty of book PDFs as well. 🦜🏴‍☠️)

it's true that the quality and depth of information out there can vary wildly, but in my experience most resources get at least some things right. and the more you research, practice, and figure out what works for you, the better you will learn to differentiate between the advice worth keeping, and the advice to forget. (that goes for all of what i'm saying here, too!)

that said, since our shared focus is music, a few resources i would highly recommend are:

music theory and composition music matters, 12tone, charles cornell, music with myles, 8-bit music theory, and this introduction by andrew huang

mixing and production dan worrall (especially this series for fabfilter), kush after hours, red means recording, andrew huang, alice yalcin efe, in the mix

general inspiration nahre sol, ben levin, david hilowitz, game score fanfare, posy, jerobeam fenderson, open reel ensemble, and ELECTRONICOS FANTASTICOS!

(if any readers have their own helpful resources for creating music or any other media, feel free to share in the replies & reblogs! 💓)

of course, on an especially bad day, it might be a challenge to seek out information, let alone retain it. that can feel pretty bad, but remember: be kind to yourself. the next thing you might consider trying is:

#5: consume art you love

not just music. books. shows. movies. games. illustration. animation. whatever moves and inspires you.

but do it intentionally. don't just pull up some random thing the algorithm suggested! check in with yourself about what you want (or are able) to engage with right now. choose accordingly. if you get a little way into it and realize it's not scratching that itch, hit the bricks. check in with yourself again. wash, rinse, repeat, until you find whatever it is that speaks to you right now.

and do it actively, if you can. don't just let it go in one eye and out the other! really pay attention to the work. what do you like about it? what are its themes and motifs? what makes it work so well? what are its flaws, and how much do they matter? what might you do differently? you can write notes as you do this if it helps, but even simply noticing and thinking goes a long way.

what you don't want to do is come at this with a lens of shame or envy. you're not here just to say to yourself, "ugh, if only i could do THAT." it's okay if it happens. use that thought as a springboard for curiosity: "well okay, how DID they do that? do i have the resources for it? if so, how could i apply that to my own work? if not, how can i adapt it, or what do i need to learn?" keep your mind open and approach the work with a sense of wonder.

as a creative person, it's very easy to think, "i should be making something right now, not watching a movie!" but that thought forgets something vital: your art is a response in a conversation. of course the "language" you use is your own, and maybe if you're lucky you'll invent a new word. but most of the words you use have been around long before you were born. you're just one voice in a dialogue that spans continents and generations, and that's okay. it's even the whole point.

none of us is an island. we are profoundly social animals. just as we can't live without eating, we can't make without learning. so half of making art is consuming it. consider this part of the process as well.

and finally,

#6: rest, and live your life

let's say you're in really dire straits. you've tried working slower. you tried changing focus, you tried changing projects. you want to take in new information or actively engage with your favorite art, but you're not in the headspace for it. what now?

take a nap. take a walk. take a shower. eat a nice meal, or an okay one. talk to a friend. maybe even do that chore you've been putting off (you know the one).

it's human to always crave making, but you're not a machine—and even if you were, machines need regular maintenance, too! you wouldn't drive a car that's completely out of gas, and you won't do yourself any favors treating your body that way either.

i know that when you take a break it feels as though you're not accomplishing anything, but you are: you're taking care of your animal self. and while you do that, your creative brain doesn't stop working! much like windows, it has countless background processes running at any given moment, with inscrutable names like "cbdhsvc_692da" or "Microsoft Edge Update Service." it's true, i checked.

when you're stuck on a project and you step away to rest, your brain is still chipping away at your ideas unconsciously. i like to tell people, "it's percolating." much like waiting for a pot of water to boil, that idea is still heating up, even when you take a step away. just be sure to check in on it once in a while. the time will pass, and it'll be boiling again before long. :)

before i go, i'll leave you with one last thing to keep in mind as you try all of these strategies:

be kind to yourself.

being human is just about one of the hardest things you can do. let alone being a human trying to survive capitalism while living with disabilities! the last thing you need on top of that is to overwork yourself, talk to yourself negatively, or treat yourself harshly. there are plenty of other people in the world who do that to you—don't be one of them.

i'm not saying that you shouldn't try to challenge yourself, to test your limits and go above and beyond your ambitions, if that's what you want to do. just remember that hard work and self compassion are not mutually exclusive. so be careful not to bully yourself. take pride in the progress you make, even when it seems small. encourage yourself like you would a friend who's going through a hard time. and when you challenge yourself, be your own cheerleader.

i hope you find this advice helpful! remember, this is just what helps me, so don't feel like you have to follow any of it exactly. maybe taking time to learn new information helps break you out of your rut more than working slowly, so you reach for that tool first. maybe having multiple projects going at once is too distracting for you, so you prefer to stick to one at a time. whatever your needs are, feel free to alter and adapt these ideas to fit you.

thank you for reading, and i wish you the best of luck in your creating.

with care, bee 🐦

#adhd #advice #asks #from #sourpatchsquids

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Neil talking about the responses to Good Omens Season 2 - from the Neil Gaiman interview with Brian Levine for The Gould Standard (x,x)

BL: The audience that you have built is a very passionately engaged audience. They, frankly, they love you. And one of the reasons they love you is that you fit into what I think of as one of two great divisions in art. There's, or in writing, um, there is: I'm entertained, I'm amused. I may be even enchanted; and then there's this hits me at a visceral level. You understand me as no one else does. You have touched something very central to my experience. And it seems to me that Much of your writing, maybe all of your writing, actually reaches your audience at that latter level. You know. I would say in the former category, sort of my quintessential and beloved example would be P. G. Woodhouse. He amuses me, but I don't feel like he's revealed my inner self at a very deep level. Um, were you aware that you were going to be able to achieve that? Um, that this is something... was it a startling thing when people began coming up to you, who'd read your work and said, this means so much to me?

Neil: Yeah. It was huge. And it wasn't expected. I... if I had a mountaintop I was heading towards, it was gonna be P. G. Woodhouse. Um, I wanted to be a proficient entertainer with a clear prose style who could tell stories. Um, it probably wasn't until Sandman that I found... I started to realize that in order for a story to work, I had to show too much. In order for a story to resonate, in order for a story to matter, I had to let it matter too much. And, and I remember the first people who would start coming up to me and saying, um, you, you know, your, your Sandman comics got me through the death of a loved one. Your death character got me through my child's death, through my parent's death, through my partner's death, through my friend's death. Um, and that left me kind of amazed. I'm like, well, I didn't write it to do that. I wrote it to feed my children. I wrote it to satisfy myself. I wrote it because nobody else had ever written it. And if I didn't write it, it wouldn't be written, but I don't think I wrote it to give you what you've taken from it. And I spent really about 20, 25 years feeling awkward about that. And then my father died, in March 2009, and never got to cry about it. Never... I, you know, I've, I've got on a plane and I went to the UK and dealt with the funeral stuff and organized all of that stuff and came back and go toff the plane and went and did Stephen Colbert's Colbert Report and wearing the funeral suit because and that was all I had with me and carried on. And then, somewhere in the middle of summer, I was reading a friend's script. They'd sent me a script and said, can you look this over? And I'm reading it, and on page 20, the lead character meets somebody, and on page 26 maybe, she's dead, and I burst into tears. And I'm bawling. I am sobbing. It is coming out of me in giant racking waves. And I realized that it's everything that I'd been, hadn't let myself feel, or hadn't been able, hadn't stopped enough to let myself feel, was suddenly being given permission to feel by the death of a fictional person who I'd met six pages earlier, ia script. And I thought that... and it was huge for me, and I thought, okay, that's that thing that people are talking about sometimes, when they come tome and they say, you, you did this. So right now, I'm in this weird, wonderful place where I think a lot of people in Good Omens Season 2 thought they were signing up for the P.G. Woodhouse, and didn't know that, no, no, no, you've, you've signed up for the whole thing. You've signed up for the feelings. You've signed up for the emotions. I... it is my job to make you care and to make you feel and to feel things you haven't felt before. And which meant that the first week or so after Good Omens came out, I was getting angry, furious, deeply upset messages on every possible social medium telling me that I had betrayed people, and it was awful, and they couldn't stop crying, and why would I do that to them, and did I hate them? And they hated me. And then a weird sort of phenomenon happened as people would watch the show again. And again. And now they started to know, okay, this is where it's gonna go, this is what's gonna happen, this is how it works. And they started realizing that they were actually feeling things, and that was good. And that they were caring about two people who don't exist. You know, I made them up, and then and Terry Pratchett made them up, and then, um, David Tennant and Michael Sheen gave them life, and then they get to walk around on a screen and you know they don't exist, but you can cry for them, you can love them, they can make you laugh, they can make you exult, and most important of all, they can make you care. And the number of people who are now writing to me, saying, 'This was so important to me. This has changed my life. This makes me feel like I belong. This makes me feel like I can cope. And it's let me sort of find myself. P. S. I hope you get to do Season Three.' is, is huge.

#good omens #neil gaiman #brian levine #neil the gould standard 2023 #interview #neil interview #videos #fun fact #gos2 #season 2 #2ep6 #s2 interview

[moonbaetarot]

Pick a pile

Random things about your future spouse

1. 2. 3.

Pile 1

Your future spouse dates to marry they don’t go messing around with people they want their wife/husband and nothing else. Your person has been wanting to be married since they were a little kid their parents set a really go example of what love is. They could still be friends with people they met in elementary school and this is because They are really friendly and good communication. Your future spouse could love sending cute little text or writing love letters to you. This person could have a love for cars or has a really nice car they love. (They could also love cats because I kept typing cats instead of cars lol) They only do things that makes them feel good if anyone or anything makes them feel bad they are quick to cut them off. You and this person could’ve had a past life together you two are very much soulmates. Your future spouse likes change they get bored quick. Your person is one of a kind they bright up a room. Your future spouse believes everything is connected, everything happens for a reason and it’s all going to be ok so when you are unsure about something they are going to reassure you everything is alright. Oddly specific Someone future spouses name could be Ryan or you could know someone named Ryan. Your future spouse loves summer, the beach, the sun and summer food. Your spouse could be Leo, Gemini, Sagittarius, Taurus, Aquarius or Capricorn. Your future spouse could be a twin or is a lot like their dad. They love fishing going out on a boat. You or your future spouse dad likes to ride Motorcycles and or has a tattoo of a cross or angle wings Im getting a lot about someone’s dad here there dad was a big part of their life as a kid they really look up to them.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

Pile 2

Your future spouse is successful they have achieved a lot in their life I feel like some of there achievements there parents helped with they may come from money. They are a goal getting if they want something there are going to get it. There love language is gift giving They love buying you whatever you want I’m seeing you walking out the mall with bagssss baby lol (I’m seeing the pink and Victoria secret bags the pink ones with white dots, I know not everyone is going to know what I’m talking about but if you do then you know lol). This person has a loved one that passed away that watches them I feel that they were really close with them as a kid and now watch over them. Someone’s favorite number could be 17. You and this person may move in really quickly When you and this person meet things are going to be moving really quickly. Your future spouse could be a real estate agent sells house, designs house, builds houses or decorates homes something of the sort. Your person is traditional they want to provide for you. They have a good intuition they know how to use their higher power and skills. All this long hard work this person does will pay off. This person knows how to take an L they grow from failed situations they don’t let it get to them. Your future spouse is an hardworking boss man you just have to sit back and see their vision being with this person your not going to have to work if you dream of being a stay at home mom or don’t wanna work in general this person will let you and y’all will with be just fine money wise. I see people being jealous of you two because yall have it all. Your future spouse could have an unusual unique name.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

Pile 3

Your future spouse loves making memories with you I see you two being 80 and y’all’s grandchildren come over and your future spouse pulls out a huge box just of pictures of fun things and memories y’all did over the past decades. your person is at good at manifestating if they really put there mind to something it can become there reality. You and your future spouse may look alike they don’t look like your siblings or nothing lol but yall share the same features. They come from a big family and have a lot of siblings I feel like you may be an only child or only have 1 or 2 siblings tho. Someone’s future spouse is a red head or a ginger or you are. You and your future may meet after you are going through a breakup your going to be like 3 weeks or months post break up and your going to meet your future spouse and your going to be closed off for good reasons but your going to realize why this past relationship didn’t work. This person may struggle with a bit of anxiety. This person visits you in your dreams a lot I feel like even when you meet this person you’re going to have very detailed dreams about your future spouse. You or your spouse could be a water sign Pisces, cancer, Scorpio. They are in touch with their inner child they are really creative and just have a really innocent image of life. Your this person whole world this person loves you so much yall are bestfriends if there was a map of there heart of how much you fill up there heart it would be full (this is such a sweet strong message). Your future spouse may like rock music. You and this person could have a baby boy and girl together. This person is taller than you. Your person may wear glasses or contacts. You or your person may be a bit scared of commitment.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

#pick a card #pick a photo #pick a picture #pick a pile #pick an image #tarot cards #tarot deck #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #pick a reading #pick one

[neil-gaiman]

hi neil !

i have to write a short story for the final assignment worth 90% of my creative writing uni module, it has to be 4k words. i’ve been putting it off for months because 1) i’ve been depressed and can’t find the motivation to do anything, 2) im deathly scared of it being bad because 3) graduating my course counts on the grade i’ll get for it. writing and reading has been a huge motivator to not give up on a future for myself. i am basically terrified of writing and submitting it. all the ideas i have feel bad, or i can’t execute them, or it’s not what the marker would be looking for. i’ve had the deadline extended into summer but i just can’t bring myself to write anything. how do you make yourself write when it matters so much? when something big rests on its quality, and it scares you?

thank you so much :)

There was a colourist I knew who wanted more than anything to colour a comic book I was writing. I got him pages early to start colouring, talked to him about what we were trying to achieve. He was really smart and brilliant and I knew he'd do a great job. The editor was waiting for his work to come in.

He may have started. He may not. I don't know. All I know is he was so obsessed with it being perfect that he never sent the pages in. The person who wound up colouring the comic got the job because we were out of time and our first choice had never sent anything to the editor.

The moral I took from this is that any work, no matter how bad, is better than no work, no matter how brilliant.

I pass this along to you, in the hope that it helps. Divide 4000 by how many days you have to go, and then double that. That's what you have to write each day to get 4K written, with enough time to revise it thoroughly on the other side. Get anything down in the first half of the time. Make it brilliant in the second half of the time.

Good luck.

#how to work #making things #finishing things #you can do it

[moonastro]

pick a picture⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚

𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙢 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙨 𝙥𝙩.2

left to right(top)-> 1,2

left to right(bottom)-> 3,4

*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚

°DO NOT take this as literal, take everything with a grain of salt as this is purely and intendedly for entertainment purposes.

°Don't be afraid to give feedback and opinions about this post (as i would entirely appreciate it).

° This is a GENERAL reading, take what resonates and leave and pass on what does not!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚

PILE 1-

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚may have a significant-like a strong/muscley back or have problems with back pain--also the spine!!

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚may regularly change hairstyle often, perhaps cut their hair a lot and dye their hair often. i see them leaning towards having red/blue/grey hair.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚may like sparkly thing, for example diamonds, glitter, glass and so forth. anything with sparkles on it intrigues them.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚may also be into star shaped jewellery, stars may be an interest of theirs.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚may wear hats or like to wear hoods.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚loves sleeping, is a deep sleeper.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚may prefer winter/ autumn more than summer/spring. prefer the cold weather in general. may constantly have a fan/air con on at all times despite the weather outside.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚like cooking, preparing meals for others. are interested in learning new recipes.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚like history, are fascinated about historic events and eras.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚are most likely into skincare and haircare, have a designated routine that they do every day.

thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed!!✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

PILE 2-

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚are definitely a high achiever, may have a lot of achievements academically speaking.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚are sensitive to sounds, sound is very important to them. For example, may like loud music blasting in their ears or are the opposite and hate loud sounds, like hating fireworks because of their loud sound.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚may have green eyes, blonde/red hair.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚love children, would want a family for sure. has a soft spot for kids.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚has multiple of ears piercing, may have other body piercings also.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚hate being in tight spaces, are picky about clothes and overall personal space.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚very caring and nurturing. is the kind of person to anonymously do something to protect you without craving for the attention of recognition.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚has some signature sitting position/habit that they have when sitting down. may cross their legs or bend one leg and so forth.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚love warm weather, especially watching the sunrise- are perhaps a morning person as well.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚love movies, might have a comfort movie that they watch over and over again.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚have longer than average legs.

thanks for reading!!!✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

PILE 3-

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚loveee music, may make/create/produce music themselves.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚may prefer gold jewellery or may have/own a lot of gold accessories.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚may be lactose intolerant or just hate diary, cheese-- may be vegan/vegetarian or follow some sort of a diet.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚may like dark themes, clothes, style, music, aesthetic etc.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚weird way to explain it but may hate how time goes fast, may be afraid of aging or growing up. even may be afraid of death also.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚they don't get bored easily, can sit still doing nothing for hours on end.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚have a very hypnotic/sweet/classy voice. i feel like their voice makes people melt ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚keeps to themselves most of the time, and i don't mean that in a shy matter but in a energy reserved way- they just would much rather have/prefer their own company. or aren't bothered by being alone.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚might not celebrate their birthday. or may think that there is no need to.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚love thinking about the higher cosmos and the outer worldly possibilities.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚may not drink enough water/don't like water/forget to drink water.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚prefer to stay silent than to express what they think.

hope you enjoyed this reading PILE 3!!!✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

PILE 4-

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚are sly with things, almost like hypnotic. their actions are so hypnotising that you cant say no to them.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚have a soft spot for old things, may like to go thrifting, collect lost things, love getting generational stuff passed down to them etc etc.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚definitely go with he flow, they may not think much of their future and are too busy thinking about the present moment.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚like to try new things, may like to go along with the current trends on the internet and social media. may like to make social media content also.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚think about others before themselves.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚may be from a hot country-may be racially mixed.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚are very loyal.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚keep very good secrets. i feel like they are the friend who is always getting the tea☕🍵😭

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚are good with little details, are always confronted with "how do you know that" or "how do you remember that??". because they surprise people of how good they remember the tiniest of details of a situation or person.

thanks so much for reading, hope you enjoyed PILE 4!!!✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐⋆*ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆

FRIENDLY REMINDER- paid tarot readings are available (DM or check out here for more info!!)

*IMAGES ARE NOT MINE*

#tarotblr #free reading #intuitive readings #free tarot reading #free tarot #free readings #tarotcommunity #tarot witch #tarot cards #kpop tarot #pick a card tarot #tarot #tarot pac #tarot pick a card #tarot reading #tarot deck #divination #tarot community #future #future spouse #fs #four swords #pick a pile #pile 2 #piles #pick a card #pick a picture #pick one

[residenthughes]

coming home - connor dewar

pairing: connor dewar x fem! reader

word count: 11k

tags/warning: friends to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst?, mentions of alcohol/drinking, minor swearing

summary: your entire life has entailed having connor by your side, no matter where the universe carves your paths. back home for the summer leading up to your final year of university, there's much to ponder - even your feelings about your best friend.

notes: this is genuinely a labour of love, the longest fic i've written in a long time 😭 i wanted this to be short and sweet, but it's long and sweet and i don't know how to feel about that lmao. but (!!!) i am really proud/happy about how this has come together and i hope you all enjoy this fic just as much as i loved writing it 😇 this is mostly proofread, but it is 5 in the morning, so I'll return to this soon! (apologizes for any errors towards the end!) more dewey content shall be coming soon, hehe! much love! <333

(also! this is very much in celebration of dewey's first goal as a leaf, teehee! 😁💗⭐️)

Summer’s always your favourite time of the year. Tan lines, midnight drives, fireworks, the beach. So much sweetness is in the breezy summer air and you simply can’t get enough. You wouldn’t admit it, but your favourite part of the season is when one of your closest friends, Connor, comes up from his gruelling hockey season and returns to the slow and laid-back lifestyle of your small town. Having grown up next door neighbours the majority of your lives, you quickly became two peas in a pod, always together with laughter following closeby.

Your friendship is something you’ve always treasured, held in some reclusive and special part of your heart that only houses your fated connection. No matter how mundane your time together may be - Connor strumming his acoustic guitar and you reading as the citrus sunset dips into the horizon - it's all so memorable to you and nothing, as you’ve come to experience, can ever replace his place in your life. However, life is a constant cycle of change and that first dose came when you two were fourteen, too awkward for your own good and growing out of your bodies. Connor was selected to play in a high-level hockey league hours away from your hometown and as your fingertips buried themselves into his tear-soaked t-shirt, you swore nothing could compare to this pain. The absolute tear of your beating heart out of your raw chest that ached with every gasp. You were a mess, undeterred by your futile attempt to appear as nonchalant at your silly age, but the second Connor stood on your porch, luggage in hand and the sadest tinge in his sage eyes, you fell apart.

Despite the sheer anguish you experienced that crisp autumn day, you adjusted. Stayed in contact with your best friend and continued to build up your life in his absence. Completed all your teenage rites of passage - took some extracurriculars, went to prom (you wanted to ask Connor, but ultimately decided against it), graduated high school and started attending university in Calgary - nine hours away from home. So many things changed and some still stayed the same. Connor was still as hockey obsessed and through his diligent efforts, he’s achieved his dreams of playing in the NHL night after night. You were there for draft day and there for his first game, university be damned. As was Connor, in the stands during your high school graduation and any time you needed him, whether that was him sitting on the phone with you until four in the morning or meeting up with you halfway across two countries because he felt like it. There was always something so spectacular about you two, your stories detailed by destiny and hung amongst the stars. A divine creation that despite the odds, of paths that have taken you two elsewhere, always merged because that is simply how it’s meant to be.

And, so it is, your last summer before your final year and here you are, fingertips tapping against the wooden bar as your leg jerks in anticipation of a figure that will come through your hometown bar, Punch & Judy’s doors any minute now.

Your best friend, Charlotte, manages to interweave your antsy fingers in between hers, a nurturing smile across her smooth face. “He’ll get here, don’t worry.”

Your eyebrows quirk, your legs stopping all motion. “Who said anything about worrying?”

She rolls her eyes, unamused. “You know what I mean,”

Then, she goes on to untangle your fingers, leaning her crossed arms against the bar occupied by the usual mellow group of regulars, including your own bunch of friends. “Besides, you know him. Knowing you’re here, he’s tryna get here quicker than a New York minute.”

A funny feeling flips in the pits of your stomach, an immediate flush coating the apples of your cheeks as you clumsily grab at your cider bottle. Connor always poked fun at your inability to enjoy a cold one, resorting to fruity flavours of cider. “He’s a law-abiding citizen, he’ll wait for the greenlight even if it kills him.”

“If you say so,” Charlotte casts you a glance out of the corner of her eye, smugness tugging at the corners of her lips as she takes another swig of her beer. The bell signifying the main door opening sounds in the background. “Oh, look. Speak of the devil and he shall appear! Hey there, stranger!”

Suddenly, your attention is elsewhere, eyes pinned to the tall silhouette that struts through the doorway of the LED ridden bar, kind eyes and a kinder smile with his tousled hickory hair and hushed voice finding its way to your eardrums again after so long. It’s like coming home again, watching from afar as close friends fall into endless hugs, your reunion saved for last as you beam a closed mouthed smile, reproduced by your best friend who opens his arms for a hug that solely belongs to you. You fall into him instinctively, inhaling his soft woody scent as you bury yourself in his embrace, the pendulum of your life coming to a pause as your universe centres.

“Get a room, you two!” Connor’s brother, Quinn taunts from over your shoulder, eliciting an exaggerated sigh from you as you’re reluctantly reminded of the lame chirps he seems to be full of whenever you and Connor are together.

You ignore him, savouring the moment for what its momentarily worth before Connor’s pulling away, arms loosely wrapped around the circumference of your waist as he peers down at you with those same green eyes you’ve known your entire life.

“Hi.” you breathe, short and sweet.

He simpers, something coy in the lines of his smile as he replies back, “hi.”

It’s a simple greeting, but there’s so much more in those few syllables - the endless gravity of your shared experiences and fondest memories making their way back to each other. Your eyes linger for a minute longer, taking in each other’s presence that’s long been missed due to your busy schedules leading up to your summer break. You part ways and despite how fulfilled you are to have him here and see him after some time, there’s a small knack that nags at you - hollow and wanting as you venture to a booth nearby, squishing up in between Charlotte and another one of your guy friends, Owen Power, who like Connor has been busting his ass in the NHL and friends with you all for longer than you can remember. You all chatter amongst yourselves with Connor’s brother sitting across from you, a discussion brewing as Connor returns shortly after getting a drink at the bar, sliding beside his brother with a beer in hand.

“Come on, Connie. Help me out here, these guys have lost the plot.” His brother argues, an eye roll your response.

Connor looks between your group, a knit in his eyebrows. “What’s the deal?”

“They’re tryna say, get this - that dolphins are more dangerous than damn orcas. Can you believe that?” Quinn attests, expression pinched as he ruffles the curls of his bleached hair sticking out his snapback.

“Hey! We’re well within reason to be arguing with you. You on the other hand? I don’t think so.” Charlotte proclaims, an accusatory finger directed towards Quinn.

��Yeah, not gonna lie, Quinn. You’re severely underestimating how evil dolphins are,” concludes Owen, his hand raised as he pushes up his glasses on the bridge of his sunkissed nose.

Quinn guffaws, jaw slack as his eyes flicker between everyone’s faces in quick succession, clearly in disbelief. “Are you hearing this right now?”

“Look, Q - we’ve been over this,” you start, hands extending as if to make sense of your proposed point. “You’ve been fed dolphin propaganda. We’ve literally shown you so many resources about their heinous crimes. Take it or leave it.”

Quinn groans, elbowing his older brother who wordlessly listens to the ongoing conversation. “Bro! A little help would be nice.”

A brief pause follows his younger brother’s melodrama, Connor weighing out the arguments of a conversation he hadn’t been here for, his eyes flickering over towards yours fleetingly. An unexplained shiver runs down your spine, the action camouflaged poorly as you appear to distract yourself from the sensation, fingernails scratching against the lines of your neck as you look up at the ceiling.

“Hello?!” hollers Quinn.

You swear he loves to hear himself talk.

“They’re right,” Connor concludes, eyes set on you as he speaks before he takes a swig of his beer, focusing back onto his brother. “Personally, I think you’ve been taking one too many trips to Sea World.”

“The promised land of dolphin propaganda.” mentions Charlotte.

“This is ridiculous!” Quinn exclaims, sending a heavy elbow into his older brother’s arm, all of which barely gains any sort of response from him. “What happened to honour amongst bros, huh? They don’t have that in Minnesota or what?”

Connor scoffs lightly, his smile reading amused as his head turns towards his brother. “That doesn’t mean I have to agree with everything you say.”

Quinn mumbles something under his breath, clearly displeased. “I forget you’re my harshest critic.”

Their double act entices the crowd, your circle of friends laughing amongst yourselves as Quinn folds his shoulders with his usual theatrics. No one buys into it, much less Connor who drapes his arm loosely around his brother’s squared shoulders, leaning in with a tickled pink smile that reflects within your own expression.

“You’re just mad I won’t kiss your ass.”

That earns him a shove off Quinn’s shoulders, sending him into a fit of laughter. Everyone chortles along, basking in the merriment of the moment before you’re delving into other non-controversial topics, indulging everyone in the bits and pieces of your lives they’ve missed and just like that, you're four drinks in and so sentimental it hurts. Owen suggests a walk around the town centre, a tradition you cannot help but all agree to as you all shimmy out of your respective booth, bidding Judy at the bar farewell as you file out of the establishment.

The cobalt sky dazzles with stars you’ve forgotten shine so bright here, the midday heat nowhere in sight as a cool breeze pushes you forwards. You linger behind Quinn as he impulsively hops onto Owen’s back, who stumbles at the sudden weight whilst Charlotte laughs at the unfolding scene. Nostalgia warms your heart at the sight, eyes half-closed and posture relaxing as the warm summer night holds you close and kisses your worries goodbye.

An arm drapes over your shoulders, your slow strides matching up with Connor’s as he looks to you, smile small and earnest as he playfully challenges, “Since when did you know about dolphin propaganda?”

You gasp, humour shaping your lips. “Well, you’ve been in my ear most of my life yapping about it, so…”

“Hey, I’m just saying - was I wrong?” the smirk on his face attests to his unwavering confidence and as you catch a whiff of his woody cologne, you roll your eyes in defeat, smile still on your lips.

“Considering you wore a shark tooth to school, I didn’t think so.”

You have to bite back the wide smile that fights to spread across your face, a few snickers here and there escaping before the loose ring around your shoulders closes in, Connor smushing your face inwards against the strength of his bicep. You can’t help but laugh throughout, swatting away his pesky grip that lasts no longer than a few seconds before all you hear is the echoes of your winded chuckles. In an effort to stabilise yourself from the momentary loss of oxygen, your hand seeks Connor’s, holding onto his larger and warmer as your feet hit the pavement in unison.

“Feels good to be back, doesn’t it?”

You let your head fall to Connor’s shoulder, arm wrapping around his lower back as your steps sync with such ease. A lightness in your limbs and how perceptive you can be to the sounds of downtown - car horns, hushed chatter and the like - let you know there’s nowhere you’d rather be right now than here. Back at home, with your best friends and your partner in crime who you answer in the form of a hum.

-

Your first few days back in the Pas are slow and uneventful, most of your time spent decompressing from the taxing semester and unpacking your items, all of which you didn’t know just how much you possessed. In an effort to make the most of the sunshine and get out the house for reasons other than your part time job at the local diner, you sign up for community gardening activities and ask the groupchat if anyone wants to come along. Everyone appears to have plans, except for Connor, who in the early hours of the next morning, picks you up from your childhood home and drives into town where for the next few hours, you’re knee deep in dirt under the blaring sun as you plant various kinds of greenery to spotlight the natural beauty of your rustic town.

What is certain, when early afternoon pours in, painting the sky in shades of honey and tangerine, you’re exhausted beyond belief. You have no idea how Connor makes the drive home, yet he does and when you two collapse into the hammock in your family’s backyard, your lips are slack and echoing more yawns than you can contain.

“That was great and all, but that’s knocked me out,” Connor groans, limp body shuffling in the confinements of the cotton hammock hanging off one of the trees in your backyard. The same tree which holds the treehouse you and Connor partially lived in throughout your youth. “That was more tiring than hockey practice.”

You’re tired and easily distracted, your head perched up in a way that puts the treehouse in your direct eye-line. “Remember when we’d watch movies in that treehouse?”

A brief pause follows, occupied by the tranquil chirps and running water from the nearby bird bath. “Yeah, I’d always wanna watch Jaws but you wanted to watch Disney movies.”

You give him a laugh, shuffling yourself in order to get comfortable in the small space. Why did you two think this would work like it did ten years ago? The thought occurs to you, but you brush it off to save yourself additional mental load, making the adjustments to cater to some form of comfortability in the tiny space. Even if that means sacrificing your shared personal space as your body overlaps onto Connor’s strong and firm one.

“Says the guy who knows the all the songs in Lemonande Mouth,” you counter, “And, Let it Shine.”

Without missing a beat, in his sleepy voice, Connor replies with, “kissy kissy, Roxanne, did you miss me?”

Groaning despite the snickers slipping past your lips, you bury your head into Connor’s chest, refusing to hear the rest of his ramblings. “My girl is hotter than your girl, you know it! You know it.”

To get your point across, you unbury your head, wide eyes peering up at your best friend who’s so amused by this all, hair messy and smile stretching from ear to ear. A bright sight. “Can you not?”

“You’re just hating 'cause I sing better than you.” He follows that by sticking his tongue out at you, so mature for his age that you grant him the response of a heavy sigh and an averted gaze, settling back into the peace and serenity of your backyard.

However, the silence doesn’t last long before you’re speaking again.

“Your hair’s getting long,” you observe, fingertips dancing along Connor’s nape as you absently fiddle with the long strands of his hair, silky between your fingers. “You should let me cut it.”

“Name a time and place, and I’ll be there,” he mumbles sleepily against the crown of your head, soothing you further towards a serene sleep. “Unless you fuck it up. Then, I won’t forgive you.”

You give him the satisfaction of a laugh tucked away in your chest, the ghost of a smile dissipating as the aches of a hard work’s start to plunge their teeth into your flesh and bones, body like cement as you sink further into the comfort of the hammock, into the comfort of your calm summer afternoon.

“One of my friends from my team’s supposed to be coming up for a night or two,” Connor croaks, voice hoarse and the gentle breeze of the summer’s day pecking your skin in an act of love. “Think…you’ll all get along with him quite well.”

His point is punctuated by a tired yawn that proves to be contagious as you mirror the action moments after, eyes unbearably heavy as time moves slow like molasses, body further sinking against Connor’s. You don’t even stop yourself from falling asleep, only blinking away the exhausted sting in your eyes to answer your best friend.

“Can’t wait,” you mumble, adjusting your body against Connor as your limbs slot together like puzzle pieces, matched at every curve as slumber envelopes you two in a kind embrace. “It’ll be good - the visit…and the rest of summer.”

Your words trail in a drowsy daze, tone doused in sleepiness as your eyes can no longer keep themselves open, glimpses of hickory branches and pear leaves wishing you peace and serenity as you finally fall asleep.

-

Your shift at the local diner passes without as much traffic as expected, local patrons ordering their usual with a few tourists dropping by to try the culinary experience of your average but nostalgic diner food. Due to how quiet the establishment is - Mabel, your boss and long-time owner of the diner - lets you off early and with a hug, you scurry back to your family house to get ready for the night's events. After dozing off with Connor in the hammock out back, your mother softly awoke to you with a holler she’s used since the dawn of time.

“Up and at ‘em, kids. Dinner’s ready!” in the distance of your dreams, you hear your mother yell.

With drowsy film still coating your eyes, you and Connor manage to dislodge your limbs from one another, sleepy smiles and croaky chuckles exchanged as you amble inside your house and Connor stays for a filling homemade meal that everyone at the dining table fawns over. Connor hangs back as you venture into the kitchen to wash up, a tradition you two have forged, him washing the dishes and you drying them. Not much dialogue takes place between the two of you and there is no need. For all the instances where you believed the need for conversation, you appreciate this silence so much more - how there’s no urge to talk for the sake of talking and how much comfort there is with simply just being with Connor. After you’ve done the washing up and Connor’s hugged your mother goodbye, fist bumping your father hilariously enough, he’s climbing into his car and wishing you well.

“You sure you don’t need me to pick you up from Mabel’s?” coaxes Connor, the wiggle of his eyebrows offsetting the echoes of titters that leave your lips.

“I’m good, thanks. Need to shower and get ready, anyways,” a gentle gust of wind blows, fallen leaves scraping against the cement of your driveway. “We all know how long that takes.”

“I don’t mind waiting.” Connor simpers, says like it’s the easiest thing in the world and like it doesn’t demand for the city of butterflies within you to soar beyond their ability.

You flash a strained smile, giving the top of Connor’s car a pat as your posture straightens and you step away from the vehicle. “Goodbye, Connor.”

“See you soon.” and just like that, he’s gone with the wind, taking a little piece of you with him.

It’s when you’re strolling your way back inside the house, halfway up the stairs to your bedroom that your mom gives you a gentle call, beckoning you back down the stairs to find her in the dimly lit living room, mahogany reading glasses hanging low on the bridge of her nose whilst the quiet snores of your father and his baseball game fill in the background noise.

She folds her newspaper, crinkles running up your spine as she addresses you. “So good to have Connie over, makes me miss him more when he’s away.”

Connor is like a son to her, the better part of your childhood glued at the hip whilst your parents cooed and awed at your loyalty to one another. He helps around the house with no complaint nor expectation of compensation, buys her favourite flowers every Mother’s day with an additional heartfelt gift come her birthday. He listens, he jokes and he cares. What more could she ask for?

“Can’t imagine how much more you miss him whilst you’re away.” she comments, throwing her denim clad leg over the other, directing all her attention to you, swaying between two feet with your hands behind your back, sceptical.

“Well, we try to meet up when we can, so it’s not too bad,” your hand goes to scratch the back of your neck, chin jutted as your head leans to the side. “…Is that why you called me down?”

Awkwardness rarely rears its head in your household built upon openness and unconditional love, which is why the unspoken truth your mother struggles to vocalise raises a red flag, your skin prickling as you fiddle with your hands behind your back.

She’s looking at you now, a maternal love in her eyes as she speaks up. “Maybe, I can’t really put my finger on it, really. I did, however, want to say that I hope you guys keep each other in your lives, however that may pan out in the future. There’s a special happiness in your eyes I want you two to be selfish with.”

It’s a small thing, she says. A snowflake amongst the pile of snow in the realms of your mind, but as you lay in bed later on that late afternoon, staring at the gold stars Connor helped hang up in your room, your mind wanders places it never conceptualised. Inserts Connor in places in your life where he hadn’t been previously - opposite you illuminated by a candle-lit dinner, dancing in a kitchen as you prepare breakfast and kiss each other in between, above your bare body as he holds you in the palm of his hand like you are the most precious thing the universe has gifted him. It’s a point in time that despite busying yourself with dipping your toes back into your hobbies - heck, even walking your next door neighbour’s golden retriever to clear your head - it never quite leaves you, awakening something deep and dormant in you that never goes away.

Snapping out of your syrupy daze, you adorn yourself in your finest line dance clothing, slipping on your gingerbread cowboy boots before you’re tying bows in the pigtails of your hair. Your mother yells down the stairs for you and you leave in a flash, kissing her goodbye as she drops you off at Punch and Judy’s, your jewellery clinking together as you walk through the main entrance.

Much like your first night back, the bar is illuminated in dim light and sharp LED lights of varying colours. Cowboy hats dominate the sea of customers, the building crowd of the bar dressed in shades of denim and tired leather cowboy boots. Knowing the others have already arrived, saving a spot at a nearby booth, you decide to make your way to the bar first, ordering your signature berries-flavoured cider, to which Punch (co-owner) makes quick work of, the cold beverage in your hands before you can blink.

“Beer not to your liking, sugar?” A smoky, mellow voice grabs your attention.

You spare a glance at the source of the gravel voice, eyes long lingering as they capture the image of a face that stirs a flip in the pits of your stomach. The man stood beside you braces his muscular arms against the hickory brown of the wooden bar, his sleepy chocolate eyes trained on yours as he takes a swig of his tequila flavoured Desperado beer. Locks of umber messily cascade along his face, unless tucked away in his vintage black cowboy hat that ties together the rugged cowboy look he presents with the sweet addition of his light stubble. To make things worse, he’s stupidly fit, his black t-shirt clinging to the curves of his muscles like second skin. If it were up to you, you’d-

“Like what you see?”

The smug comment snaps you out of your hazy olge, a pout forming upon your lips with an accompanying knit in your eyebrows. You make a point to angrily grab at your pint glass, ingesting a big gulp of the sugary alcohol whilst the rugged cowboy laughs to himself.

Even his laugh is attractive. Sick bastard.

“Coming from a man drinking a Desperado? Funny,” you have to laugh at whatever lame attempt of making conversation this man is pulling, Punch masking his misplaced laughter behind a cough as he polishes a pint glass. “How flirtatious you are.”

You admit, your latter remark is more bark than bite, a quick chirp that refuses to feed his ego yet grab his interest all at the same time. The ruse proves to work in your favour as the sexy cowboy gives another one of his huffed laughs, his body turned towards yours.

“Give me a chance, sugar. Just tryna start the night off right,” he counters, so brazenly confident in himself that you don’t know whether to laugh or shy away from his prying eyes. “Tequila beer and beautiful company - sounds about perfect to me.”

You react in a juxtaposition, eyes rolling and cheeks flushing as you divert your line of sight away from the handsome man flirting with you at your hometown bar. Perhaps, he’s some city folk travelling through the town, fancying himself a good time at Punch & Judy’s weekly hoedown Fridays, a little bit of flirting on the side to inflate his ego and keep his blood pumping. Whatever reason explains his presence, you are not one to complain. Your love life isn't very entertaining to put it mildly, so you're willing yourself not to get swept up in his caramel eyes.

Against the wishes of your quickening heart, you decide to give Mr. Handsome Traveller the time of day, body shifting as you face each other finally. “You don’t quit, don’t you?”

He cocks an eyebrow your way, something sneaky and sugary in the lines of his smile. A brief pause follows his actions, the soft rustic sounds of old town country murmuring from the jukebox nearby filling up in the space between your figures. It’s when he’s about to make yet another cocky comment that your conversation is put on pause.

Connor’s voice calls your name, head turning to find your best friend standing in between you and the Punch & Judy’s cowboy of the night, eyes wide and expectant as they shift back and forth in the middle of your standing figures.

“Dew, forget about Desperados tonight. The lady in bows will have your head otherwise.” Handsome Traveller nods his chin towards you, humour dancing in his smile as he snickers into his half-full glass.

Then, it dawns on you. Dew? One of the handful of nicknames Connor’s adopted over the course of his livelihood. So, they’re acquaintances? Or closer? Your eyes frantically search for social clues to point you in the right direction.

“The lady in bows is my best friend,” Connor explains, a bite to his words as his eyes glare a knowing look at Sexy Cowboy. He then goes on to face you, gaze softening almost immediately as his head tilts in his friends (?) direction. “This is Brandon, or Dewey One.”

Oh. Makes sense, you rationalise. This is Brandon, Connor’s close friend and teammate on his current team out in Minnesota, the one who gets into fights he can’t win on the ice whilst Connor trails nearby picking up his fallen gear. The one he told you a couple of days ago that was coming up to visit. And, of course you were flirting with him.

Of. Course.

“Dewey One?” you ask, minorly deflecting from your embarrassment and still genuinely curious.

Connor inhales, as if to speak but Brandon beats him to it.

“Brandon’s just fine,” he interjects, expression unassuming as Connor’s eyes put his visiting friend underneath a microscope. “Nice to meet you, darling.”

Normally, you’d wrinkle your nose at the sometimes sleazy pet name Brandon casually calls you, except this time round you find it more amusing than cringe-worthy, which is how you find yourself grinning as you two exchange a handshake that testifies to how strong Brandon is. You clear your throat to stop the circus unfolding within you.

“Come on,” Connor gestures over to you to follow suit. “Can’t keep ‘em waiting.”

You call out an agreement over your shoulder as you go to grab your drink, the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention as a close whisper brushes past your ears.

“I ain’t no quitter, sugar.”

-

The next couple of hours are spent packed into a crimson leather booth that peels at the ends, going from topic to topic over many a pints. Brandon fits so easily into your group, his infectious energy illuminating as he takes up space without regard, his confidence more enticing than suffocating. Everyone seems to be in good spirits as the alcohol keeps flowing and as you sit back, careful eyes watching your friends engage in conversation, you wish for this to be your forever for as long as you'd like for it to be.

A nudge against your shoulder turns your head, greeted by Connor’s sage eyes. “You ready for Judy’s Line Dance?”

His rhetorical question draws a laugh from you. “You say that like I don’t do this every time I come back.”

“Yeah, but if you were ready then, you would’ve brought your cowboy hat,” comments Connor, his veiny hands grasping gently at the ends of your braided pigtails accented with a bow. “What? Wanted to show off your pretty bows?”

He thumbs the ends of your hair, engrossed in the strands and its feel and for some reason, the casual intimacy of the moment inflates something in your chest, a balloon about to burst as you forcibly breathe in and out, clearing your throat afterwards. “They're my favourite accessories.”

Connor huffs, corners of his lips lifting gingerly as he continues his motions with his hands whilst your body remains rigid with the exception of your racing heart and crimsoning cheeks.

Your mother has definitely planted a seed you cannot unroot.

“Yeah, you’re almost always wearing them in your BeReal. posts. They’re real cute.”

For a fact you know so well, Connor’s confession comes as a pleasant surprise, one that shallows your breaths and quickens your pulse. It makes you reflect back on before, when all was platonic and the comment wouldn’t have made you bat an eyelash. Now, your skin tingles and you’re struggling to find the words to encapsulate your affection past your dry mouth. So, like many others in your position, you settle for a safe reply.

“Aren’t you a charmer?” you roll your eyes, brushing off his grasp because you might combat otherwise, projecting your attention ahead of you to come face-to-face with Brandon, who despite the engaging conversation he shares with Owen, his eyes skirt over to you.

You look away, even more flustered than before.

It’s just your luck when you hear Judy’s tap incessantly against an old microphone that you have something else to hold your focus, eyes brimming with glee as she announces the dances for the night and their updated partner songs. Last time you were here, they were still playing their beloved country hits and you danced along thanks to the amounts of alcohol you consumed, but their new playlist of pop hits within the past decade or so, you’re more motivated than ever to tear apart the dance floor.

“If you ain’t shy to do a little two step, please make your way to the dancefloor please.” Judy grins into her mic, tipping her cowboy hat as patrons make their way over to the illuminated space.

Connor makes way for you to exit the booth, your boots hitting the ground as you iron out any kinks in your outfit. Amidst your actions, you catch other movements out of the corner of your eyes, to which you find Connor playing with the ends of your bow this time round. There’s always been something so sweet and tender about him - in the way clouds are amongst a blue sky, in the way laughter spills over so easily in the presence of a found family and in how harmonies make you feel as if you're floating. But, it’s never been like this before, this intense and vivd. In a way that rids you of all thought and scares you beyond your deepest fears all at once. You’re still finding your footing in this new territory, a plain that speaks to the existence of your feelings but has no road nor destination. It’s a simple plain you seek to find some end to, picking up clues along the way that predetermine what the future holds. At the beginning, the animosity scared you pale and grey. Now, the end is what grasps your fear in a fierce chokehold. To pry yourself from the jaws of unhinged anxiety, you allow yourself to relax, to seep into the present and take it for what it's worth because the end is unknown and you’re not there yet. Not by any measure of time, you hope.

“Kick butt out there, rockstar.” His big smile deepens the soft lines of his face, a pure display of pride in his features as he gives you a pat on the back and gives way for you to shine.

It’s small, insignificant in the grand scale of things, but your smile deepens too and you nearly float to the dancefloor, adrenaline rushing through your body as the DJ prepares the upcoming music.

As you settle in line, you feel a light pressure lay upon the crown of your head, eyes darting to find Charlotte in the line next to you, giving you a wink before she faces forwards, thumbs slotted through the loops of her flare jeans. Her straw cowboy hat no longer, you reach up to find said object upon your head and with a chuckle behind your hand, your thumbs hang on your belt loops and let the music guide you.

It’s only when you’ve done your first turn that you realise that Brandon has also decided to join the line dance, huffs of amusement sounding from you as he glides and slides with a confidence dusted with his normal dash of comedy.

When Judy announces it's time for the partner dance, it’s your cue to catch your breath as you plan to evacuate the dancefloor. As mentioned earlier by Charlotte, the pretty sandy brown haired man who’d bought her a drink earlier in the night circles his arms around her waist as she gives him a smitten grin. You beam at the endearing sight, about to make your way towards your booth but are stopped in your tracks as a calloused hand clasps around your wrist.

Brandon’s expression is more sheepish than you’ve ever seen, his eyes distracted as they wander away from you. You raise an eyebrow.

“Who says the night has to end here, sugar?” His voice trembles partially, its edge lost in the coyness lining his smile as he finally looks at you with a dazzle of hope in his eyes.

A momentary pause delays your response, the moment used to turn the cogs in your head and sneak a glance back at your booth, where Connor was last you saw him, eyes trained on you as he simply watches the interaction. Under the weight of his gaze, a creeping sense of embarrassment climbs up your back, scolding the skin. You’re about to give your reply when the music starts up and Brandon speaks again.

“Put this desperado out of his misery and allow me this one dance?”

It’s so cheesy, maybe even idiotic - the words he proposes to you but he’s trying and that’s what appeals to you most, warms your heart and sways your response as you send him a nod that has Brandon cheesing ear to ear, his hand leading the way as you two fall in line.

You haven’t had much experience line dancing with a partner, the closest experience to this being a night you barely remember, happily back sliding with a fifty year old local in your college town bar who wanted to feel young again. Regardless of the fact, there’s no time to mull it over as the music already starts and your fingers are interlocking, matching up with the rest of the duos as you dance, cowboy boots stomping as you make a scene.

In all the commotion of heavy stops and ongoing thumps of Rihanna’s ‘S&M’, Brandon manages to catch your attention, mirroring your movements to a tee.

“You and Connor don’t do this much, do you?” he queries.

“You kidding me? Connie has two left feet, I’d be left for dead if it wasn’t for Charlotte.” You yell over the blaring upbeat country music, arms extended as Brandon glides you further away from his figure.

“Good thing I’m here tonight.” jesters Brandon, and you laugh along because you’re tipsy and having a lot more fun than you imagined.

Despite your familiarity with the dance routine you two execute to a tee, you’re caught off guard when Brandon brings you inwards, bracing you against his hard chest before his arm circles around the circumference of your lower back, holding you steady as he dips your body slightly. Your foot is kicked out, your (Charlotte’s) straw hat’s fallen to the scuffed dancefloor and you’ve just had the wind knocked straight out of you, eyes feverishly searching for answers as the bar falls to a hush.

You’re looking in each other’s eyes now, chest heaving and high off the adrenaline pumping through your veins from all that dancing. All time ceases to exist and it’s just two of you, sharing laboured breaths and looking for any cues for how this will end. It appears as if you’re in your own head at this point, combing through a thousand possibilities all at once to respond however you see fit. Thankfully for you, Brandon breaks the silence.

“One night and one night only.”

The sentence sends shivers down your spine and you’re pretty sure Brandon feels you quiver in his arms as he gives a brief chuckle, hauling you up onto your two feet and bringing you back to reality. You don’t really find their footing after that.

The rest of your time at Punch & Judy’s passes by in a flash, more pints being consumed over your group’s loud chatter as the night stretches on. Charlotte and her blue eyed companion indulge in another dance before he’s whisking her back to the bar and paying for everyone’s next set of drinks - bless his heart. He introduces himself as Jack, a new face in town and as he and the boys exchange pleasantries, the wild eyed non-verbal dialogue you engage in pieces together Charlotte’s sentiment and if it isn’t enough, when Jack makes his departure, she gives him a kiss on the cheek and bides him a coy farewell, a promise to meet in the next coming days on her tongue. One thing is certain, when Jack makes his exit from the bar, the door shutting behind him, you’re yelling and shaking each other’s shoulders in glee, stupidly happy and sharing that with one another.

Your table has their last drinks and before you know it, you’re being squeezed into the back of Owen’s pickup truck, sandwiched between Charlotte and Connor whilst Owen and Brandon sit up front. Over the murmured sounds of slow alternative music, you get bits and pieces of their conversation, the two excitedly talking about their shared love for Legos and the most they’ve splurged on one set. You shake your head with a laugh, going to share your merriment with Charlotte, only to find her soundly asleep, a light snore bypassing her punch pink lips.

“How you holdin’ up, champ?” Connor’s low voice draws you in, a slight head turn in his direction. “Don’t think I’ve seen you dance like that since we were ten and begging our parents to have a sleepover.”

The image is so vivid in your brain, two wide eyed kids that held hands as they begged and pleaded to have a sleepover, only for their polite request to be refused. Taking matters into your own hands, you dragged your parents’ big hands into the living room, where in front of them and an oblivious Connor, turned on MTV and danced to some popular song of the time. Lucky for you, it worked. Unluckily, Connor would hold that over your head forever onwards.

You’re cringing into your hand, face mangled in discomfort as you wish away the reality of you doing that away. “One of us had to convince them. Plus, it worked, didn’t it?”

“I can’t argue with that,” Connor laughs behind a fist before his hand falls to his side, a moment of quiet between you two. “You and Brandon seem to be hitting it off.”

A single eyebrow raises to express your confusion, perplexed frown prominent not because of his statement which is completely true, but because there’s an edge to his voice - something unfamiliar and cold in the way he says his words - a tone you’ve yet to hear, even after all these years. Uncertain how to proceed, you choose to be cautious about the matter, selecting your words carefully.

“He’s nice,” you state, because Brandon is but something in you twists uncomfortably, feels the recognizable pangs of embarrassment as you’re subjected to uttering this out loud. Or rather, in front of Connor. A betrayal of some sorts. “You were right about him fitting right in with us.”

There’s a strange shift in the air in the backseat of the car, the once peaceful quiet now becoming increasingly heavy and awkward as your words hang in the air like knives. Connor absorbs your words, stare averted as he watches his fingers fiddle with the lock of the door on the windowsill. You run your palms against the material of your denim shorts because you don’t know what to do with them otherwise.

It’s only when you’ve scratched the back of your neck, eyes stiffly roaming the interior of the car that Connor replies. “Yeah..I guess I just didn’t know how well.”

You’re about to ask him what he means by that, going to press him but Owen’s suddenly shut off the truck, his blinding interior lights turning on and him killing the ignition, alerting you of your arrival. Connor climbs out before your vision reverts back to normal, so you put the matter on pause and softly wake up Charlotte who sheepishly wipes away dried drool at the corner of her lips and climbs out the pick-up with you. You’re about to shut the door behind you, though someone beats you to it.

“I got it.” Brandon’s husky voice sounds from behind you, the slam of the door following.

You send an appreciative smile his way, perhaps a bit of timidity mixed in there too, turning to include Charlotte in any possible conversation to come, only to find her halfway up the porch stairs of Connor’s house.

How is it always the two of you left alone?

“Let’s head in, it’s chilly out here.” suggests Brandon, you falling in line with his request as the beginnings of goosebump dot your arms, the roughness of your skin hitting an all time high as Brandon’s large hand falls to the small of your back, guiding you up the stairs into the cosy and quaint house.

Hums of conversation lead from the back porch of Connor’s house, the presence of your friends known as you wordlessly navigate your way through the halls of Connor’s house, hallways and framed pictures you’ve committed to memory. When you’ve made your way to the kitchen, you find Owen nursing a cool bottled water, hair tousled and cheeks dusted in pink.

“There you two are,” announces Owen, fingers threading through the waves of his brown hair. “Everyone’s out back - apparently, Quinn’s out back too.”

You waste no time beelining for the backyard, the sudden weight of your reality dawning on you the second you stepped through Connor’s doorway, a cold shower of water easing you out of the mirage you’ve impulsively floated in. Once you’re outside, the cool air sinking into your skin, you spying the usual suspects - Quinn, Charlotte and Connor gathered together around a fire Quinn boasts about making. His glee is short lived.

“That boy scouts training finally coming in handy, huh?” Charlotte banters, a suppressed smirk sneaking amongst her features as she takes a seat in one of the camping chairs surrounding the fire.

“You laugh now but when you need someone to tie an impossible knot and survive off the land, don’t come running to me.” responds Quinn, taking a swig of his beer as Charlotte holds her hands up in surrender, laughing regardless.

You’re about to turn on your heels to head back inside, retrieving a beverage of your own, but a familiar call of your name is stopping you in your tracks.

“I’ve got your cider here,” alerts Connor, expression indifferent as he approaches you to hand off a can of your favourite berry cider and a bottle of water. “Blankets are on the chairs too.”

It’s embarrassing how much you want to melt into this man’s arms right now. Nonetheless, for reasons you know all too well, you express your gratitude in a toothy grin that he mirrors with a closed mouth, pulling you down into the camping chair beside his.

Soon enough, Brandon and Owen are sitting round the fire too and your night ends like this, light-hearted discussions under the stars as the heat from the open flame soothes your heavy eyelids closed. Whilst you’re mildly awake, you don’t miss the glances you and Bradon trade over the sandstone fire, loaded questions in his eyes. Had this been any other occasion, any other person not linked to Connor, any other reality where your current feelings didn’t exist for Connor, then there would be no questions asked, blossoms of wine doting both your necks come tomorrow morning. Alias, these were not the conditions and simply lounged in your camping chair, hoping Brandon didn’t look your way every time Connor’s hand would play with the bows in your hair.

-

Arm hanging out of his shiny porcelain white pick-up truck, Brandon squints as the rays from the blistering sun reflect into his eyes. Having said their goodbyes earlier, Connor and Brandon dab each other up with good-natured smiles before Brandon throws his focus over to you, standing with a bit more awkwardness than you’d like.

“Take care, Lady in bows,” Brandon says, a well-mannered nod sent your way with a closed mouth smile. “Don’t give Dewey a hard time. He’ll come round.”

For a split second, you’re eyeing him as if his face contains all the answers, but when he gives you that knowing look, the same one Charlotte and your mother give you any time Connor’s name is mentioned - you know. Know all too well and blush as a result, head snapping behind you to see if Connor’s within earshot. Thankfully, he’s in the middle of chatting with his brother, hands in his pocket as Quinn points off into the distance. You circle back to Brandon, the apples of his cheeks clear as day as he snickers like he’s been told a secret.

It’s as if this best kept secret brings you infinitely closer, your walls falling as you begin to bare the depth of your sentiment surrounding Connor. There’s no more beating around the bush, so you lower your head as you kick at the rocks at your feet. “You think so?”

You hate how small your voice comes out, meek and questioning everything known to man. It’s unfamiliar and not to mention, uncomfortable in every aspect of the word. Alias, Brandon sees you - catches the vulnerability you’ve shared with him and embraces you with a kindness that ushers a relieved sigh from you as he responds back.

“I’d bet my NASA Space Shuttle lego set on it.” Brandon banters, smirk soft and small.

So, he’s serious. Very serious, it seems because you know how treasured the item is to him. You exhale a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

“Thanks, Brandon,” you breath, coyness coating your cheeks as your hands fall behind your back, your fingers tangling. “Don’t go fighting no alligators.”

“We can only hope,” Brandon gives his side-door a smack, rounding up everyone’s attention. “I’m hitting the road, fellas. Enjoy the fair for me, yeah?”

A chorus of agreements go off from behind you before Brandon gives one more salute, speeding off into the canary yellow sun. The small crowd outside Connor’s house disperses and regroups again later on that day, refreshed and ready to attend the local fair held every summer and the highlight of the year.

The fair lives up to its expectations, grand and joyful with a variety of rides ranging from teacups to a catapult-like ride that swings back and forth and then upside down. You’re distracted by all the colours, the sights and sounds that you’re so oblivious to what goes on right before you, until your vision is shrouded in black and your face is submerged in fluff.

Retracting, you blink your eyes to adjust to the change in lighting, lips parting as you stare at the massive latte-coloured teddy bear that Connor presents to you, the rest of your friends nearby taking their turns at the darts board way ahead of them.

He must see you struggle to find the words, his grin infectious as he jests, “I think I’ve finally out-conned the concessionaires.”

You must look like an idiot, or a deer in the headlights as Charlotte jokes, disbelief strikingly apparent on your face as you reach for the souvenirs, the fluffy animal so cosy in your arms and melting your heart into a big puddle of goo. “Thank you, Con.”

“Don’t mention it.” a smile plays tenderly on his lips, the sheer kindness he captures in his sage eyes enough to make your pulse race and head spin.

After the thoughtful gesture, your high spirits cannot be tamed as you indulge in every little thing your heart desires - laughing a little harder, smiling a little wider and stuffing your cheeks full of hearty food that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Charlotte basks in your glee, speaking of a glow you radiate as she snaps photos of your stuffed cheeks, a knowing smirk on her lips as she hands you your teddy bear once your food is finished. You don’t reply, exchanging words through your glances as you make your way towards the second bit of rides the boys want to try.

“Wait, isn’t that…?”

As Quinn’s voice trails off into the distance, you find yourself turning in the exact direction where he directs your view, eyes landing on a pair of figures - one being Connor and the other being, Amelia, Connor’s ex-girlfriend from high school and most notably, his last girlfriend. Her waves of blond hair glisten in the sunshine, something like a Renaissance painting. Her smile bright and wide as she greets Connor with an enthusiastic hug, a hug you feel lasts longer than necessary.

They then go on to immerse themselves in conversation, and for the life of you, you can’t look away - pry your jealous eyes away nor dry swallow this bitter pill because she’s still so into him. Hands familiar and all over him, leaning in when she gets the chance and beaming like she’s won the lottery. In all fairness, her life’s been such a tale - excelling academically, incredibly driven in all sports and other extracurricular activities that garnered her attention. And such a kind spirit too, always there to help no questions asked that it made you physically sick that you could foster any ill feelings towards her, because she’s such a light and maybe Connor would see that too. As he did when they were together.

You’re too busy losing yourself in a sea of self pity that you don’t notice Charlotte's attempts to snag your attention nor other things at first, your illegitimate fears getting the best of you but as your posture stoops, your eyes floating everywhere around the busy fair that it pauses on Connor’s figure. Once immersed in conversation, he appears distracted, indifferent somehow as his attention wanders, wanders over to you as his line of sight floats over to you from time to time as the conversation stretches on. At first, you think it’s your mind playing tricks on you, feeding into delusions that’ll soothe your pity party, but at some point, he holds your gaze, giving Amelia a pat on the back before he’s jogging over to where your friendship group is, not even uttering a word as he slots himself between you and Owen.

“What was that about?” Quinn just has to ask.

“Oh, Amelia just wanted to catch up,” he sounds distracted, his mind elsewhere but you don’t dare to indulge, your sight directed elsewhere as you grip onto the plush teddy bear as if it were a lifeline. “She says hi, by the way.”

You don’t do much listening after that, tuning out all the colours and sounds of the fair as you ride the highs and lows of what your life has become.

-

A sense of urgency plagues you from that day forth, a hurriedness in your actions as your anxieties get the better of you, going from lounging around in day old pyjamas covered in crumbs and mystery stains to getting a head start on your master’s personal statement and running every errand you’ve been procrastinating. Your parents swear you’ve become a different person - venturing outside the house before noon to visit the bank to change your address or go get your car serviced. Perhaps seeing Connor with Amelia was the jump start you needed to stop relishing in instant gratification, distracting yourself from facing any sort of music that pertained to the future and all its question marks. You still hang out with the others, more so Charlotte as you spend a few afternoons at the lake with one another, feet dangling into the water as she updates you on her adventures with Jack.

It’s the first time someone’s pursued her with such sincerity and charm that she’s hesitant about his authenticity. And yet from the sounds of it, Jack doesn’t mind one bit and shows his patience as they get to know each other, the smitten man taking your best friend on dates that further solidify their connection. You couldn’t be any happier for your best friend, this kind of treatment a long time coming, all of which you express just to see her blush and dive into the cold lake water to avoid further talks. You chase after her, teasing her mercilessly as the thoughts still linger at the back of your mind - your own sentiment with regards to Connor and what has come from the change of heart.

Emotional anguish and so much fear you’re not sure what to do with yourself. It takes a week of mulling things over, his missing presence due to off-season hockey training for you to make up your mind, peeling into his driveway and hiding your apprehension behind a strained smile as he greets you at the door. You preoccupy every bit of silence with running chatter, because you don’t want to hear yourself think, a multitude of topics discussed over vodka pasta you make together before you’re finding your way into his bedroom, the early evening sky greeting you as he flicks on his buttermilk bedside lamp.

He brings out his guitar, the same one you gifted Connor two years ago at the height of his newly-found hobby and plucks the strings, creating a melody you compel yourself to relax into, somehow ending up sandwiched in between him and the guitar as he directs your fingers to play one of your favourite songs, just because.

Apparently, your shaky hands don’t make for good playing material.

“You’re shaking like a leaf, you cold or something?” notes Connor, his looming presence over your body sending you into overdrive, your skin feverish and mind imploding from overwork.

“This is different.” you annouce, because it is. Unlike times before, it didn’t mean as much to be alone in his bedroom with him, getting glimpses into the life he’s lived and who he is as a person through all his possessions. You could handle the casual intimacy - the soft spoken whispers, the unprovoked kindness, the skin to skin contact that didn’t send your heart into a series of flutters. Now, all you can do is bat an eyelash, many at that, and this you must make known. For the selfish reasons you can think of.

“What d’ya mean?” he mumbles, clearly distracted and known the wiser to his breath fanning over your neck, goosebumps rising against your skin as your body grows rigid against his.

So acutely aware of your proximity, of the bursting feelings that thud at the confinement of your chest, your thoughts scatter like glass. “This, Connor. Being like this…with you.”

That strikes a chord with Connor, his motions ceasing altogether as his hands drop from the guitar and you’re forced to face the music. Sink your teeth into this undeniable truth that’s followed you all these years and you’ve been too blind to see. Confront the holy truth that maybe there was more divine work intertwined in your story with Connor, that maybe the universe wrote you two as one heart as opposed to two. That, as the summer days ticked by, the sun seeping into your skin, your love grew for Connor like molasse - slow and thick and palpable that once you were aware of its existence, that’s all that consumed you. Coated in his syrupy love, an endless desire.

You’re facing your best friend in spite of the hellish screams in your mind to play this off as some random mood swing, a joke even, because laughter follows you two everywhere, right? But, you know. Know better than anybody else that Connor knows you, like the back of his hand. Sees right through any charade you may jester him with, so any attempts to divert the conversation are as pointless as anything. Your confession starts and ends here.

A flicker of concern mixes in the dark of his eyes, hands clasped together with a crease in between his eyebrows. “I don’t follow.”

A full body sigh draws out of you, shoulders sagging and back curving, your hands casting aside the acoustic guitar with caution. You’re back to staring at each other, in the silence of the night, caged in between four walls that burn your eyes white as you once again grapple with your innumerable feelings and the finality of it all - this longing.

“Don’t you think,” you croak, question in your eyes as you look up at Connor, stifling any rise in emotion within you. “-this summer has been different?”

His sage eyes cast away, pink lips settling into a pout as he racks his brain for whatever answer you may be looking for. “No? Maybe? I don’t know.”

He adds on, looking back at you as he leans closer without fault. “Is this because it’s your last summer before you graduate?”

Connor’s got a point. When you’re trying to kid yourself into not having romantic feelings for your childhood best friend, your mind wanders to places where it has more control. Plans for after college, what modules you’ll be taking, what societies you want to join, what last things you’d like to cross off your list before you’re forced into full fledged adulthood. It’s a thought that lingers ever so presently at the back of your mind, like background music stuck on loop, but ultimately, Connor has missed his mark and you tell him so.

“Partially, but,” you wet your lips, struggling to find the words again as the burn against your cheeks proves to be insufferable. “This is what’s been on my mind more than anything else.”

Your point is accentuated by your single finger gesturing between the two of you, a poor attempt at best to foster some sort of confession of your romantic feelings. Because it's so scary, lending these thoughts your voice because they become much more real, spoken aloud for his ears to hear and his heart to see. For his heart to feel and what then? What awaits you once your confession reaches his ears? The unknown is scary, chilling to the bone and you wish to shroud yourself from it as long as there’s daylight.

There’s a beat before you hear Connor’s voice again. “What about us?”

Hearing him vocalise those three words makes the moment so real, so vividly intense that it sends chills down your spine and slows your laboured breath, the thump of your heart all you can hear aside from the ticking clock against Connor’s bedside table. It ticks and ticks, signifying the curtain call to your summer long charade.

“Connor, I..” It’s as if the magnitude of your feelings have manifested into some beast, with razor-like fangs and sharp claws that slash at the confinements of your chest, the words of love dying on the tip of your tongue as the moments hangs over your head like a gauntlet. You’ve never been so scared before, driven nearly to tears as your desperate hands grip at the material of your hoodie to ground yourself in some sort of way whilst you try to push yourself. To see this through until the very end and leave the destination unknown.

“We’ve been friends our entire lives. I don’t know anything beyond being with you and I never wanted to, and I feel like that means so much more than it did years ago,” his eyes are on you, undivided attention served on a silver platter that you turn away from, for its sincerity and shine. “Maybe, I did know deep down inside what I know now all those years ago. Like when I cried and begged for you not to leave the Pas. Or when you held my hand any chance you got when we were kids, or anytime you smiled at me really that let me know I always liked you. Maybe, even love you - I don’t know. But, what I do know is that I just couldn’t leave for Calgary without letting you know. Even if that means…”

You don’t have the heart to utter your next words, a dagger to the heart at even the possibility of losing your best friend and partner in crime. Perhaps, it isn’t worth saying - this whole grand love confession because this is a risk you’re not ready to face. However, despite your thundering heart against your bruised chest and however many times you’re second guessing yourself here, the weight lifted from your words is undeniable. An unspoken truth that had been set free, that needed to be set free - whatever the fallout may be.

A snicker snaps you out of your deep seated fears, your scattered daze settling on the view before you, one you had least expected. Connor, eyes cast away from yours as he huffs into his hands, a laugh you’re undecided where it derives from.

“…Are you laughing at me right now?” You feel awful for even asking such a ridiculous question. At the same time, you’ve just been as vulnerable as you’ve ever been in your entire life - some hesitancy is to be expected.

At your question, Connor’s huffs of delight cease and stares at you at alarm, realising his mistake. “God, no. Fuck, I’m so sorry, I just-”

“You used to rub dirt on me, and now you're proclaiming your love for me,” an airy laugh puffs out of his moving chest, a mixture of disbelief and amusement painted amongst his chiselled features. “It’s a bit of an adjustment.”

He seems…happy? Relieved? You’re not really sure, but what you at least find peace in is that there’s no sunken look about him, no expression worn that conveys disappointment and hurt because that’s all you’d have to see to know where his heart lies.

“Good or bad?” you ask.

His eyes bounce back to yours, those same olive eyes you’ve spent years looking into, glimmer with a sparkle that you’ve yet to see and robs you of rational thinking as your heartbeat picks up the pace.

“Good,” he whispers, like it’s a secret for just the two of you - one that is small and fragile, but so special and cherished that it makes your heart squeeze. “Because, there’s no one else I’d rather be with. Not by a long shot.”

You swear you could cry, burst like a dam and drown in your tears that overflow with such joy and relief because this is it for you. So right and settled, being where you’ve always meant to be - so loved and treasured by the one person who knows you better than yourself, someone who’s seen you at your most awkward and at your worst, and loves you because he has. Because he’s seen it all and wants to spend the remainder of his life doing so, a conscious choice he makes everyday because he loves you and you love him.

You’re unsure how you’ve ended up like this, limbs curled up in your lover’s lap as he cups your cheeks, rough thumb caressing the skin as his love shines through his gaze that blows his iris’ out of view. He looks so beautiful like this, unabashed and vulnerable, secure in love and what destiny holds for you. He looks at you as if you colour his skies and spin his world round and just like that, you lose yourself in him. Thread your fingers through his strands of umber brown and kiss him like you mean it. Kiss him long and hard, and with everything you have because it’s long overdue, so needed that you melt into him, lips overlapping as you taste destiny on his tongue.

The story of you and him, a tale as old as time.

#connor dewar x reader #connor dewar #connor dewar fic #cd24 #minnesota wild #toronto maple leafs #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #connor dewar fluff #dewey 2 #brandon duhaime #dewey 1 #dewey #residenthughes

[netherfeildren]

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .Epilogue

Series Masterlist

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Here we find ourselves again at the end of another story, and I just need to say a quick thing to you all who have been so incredibly kind and supportive and lovely to me throughout this. It has always been difficult for me to talk about myself and the things I feel, and a large part of why I began this writing thing was that I’ve felt for a while now that my life was stagnant and myself without growth or change, and I didn’t really know how to fix it, but I knew that I wanted to do something or say something, and writing fan fiction may seem like a frivolous sort of avenue to achieve those things, but what you all have given me, and the warmth and support you all have welcomed me with, cannot be compared to anything else I’ve experienced thus. Quite simply, you all have been so fucking nice to me, and you can’t know what it means to me or how grateful I am for it. So really that’s all I want to say which is a million times thank you, and I appreciate you all so much, and I hope I can continue to write for you for a long time to come. 

Artwork is Cloud Nine by Amy Beager (2021)

Word Count: 1.3K

Read on AO3

.Epilogue

A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image.

Joan Didion, The White Album

I had a dream recently: we’re in my grandmother’s house, and I don’t know what it means, but we’re together. You’ll never be able to know my parents, and even though my grandmother passed years ago, you get to meet her here – she was always kind to me, here in this place where only I make the rules. She cooks us a meal, we say grace, and she tells you how happy she is that we've found each other. At night, tucked away into her guest bedroom together, you don’t fit in her little shower, head knocking against the spout because you’re too tall. Too big for this world. We huddle into the little double bed together in the dark afterwards, lace edged pillows scratchy and smelling faintly of moths and roses, and we laugh and press together tightly and whisper into each other’s ears. 

I don't know what it means, but I know we’re together. My mother never told me to be what I wanted, but I did so anyway. I chose to live. Now I am here with you. 

-

“I have something for you,” he says one late summer evening. The two of you are sitting on the back porch, watching Sarah run around with the new puppy he’d brought home for her earlier in the week. The air, warm and muggy, the sound of cicadas sounding like the symphony of summertime. It is a small, velvet lined black box, and when you open it, a spool of thread lies within. 

Faithlessness is escaped like this: “The first time I got married, it was out of necessity, obligation, a wish for something good or right. It seemed like the right step, the right thing to do, but I think you and I– we know what we are to each other. We have always known – even when we could not yet say it. This is a conscious act, us loving one another, an act of will – out of desire or necessity, even, or perhaps – a necessity for each other – but still, we are an act of will together.”

He takes the spool then, and makes a loop of the thread around your ring finger – then ties a little knot around you. Now you are caught. 

“I thought I always had to stick by my decisions until the end, but change is only natural, it’s the intent behind your decisions, I think, that’s what really counts. We’ve learned much about intent together, haven’t we? And you and I, we have always been us –  from the very first moment. There was a thread that connected us.” And you cannot speak, for there are tears streaming down your face and flooding your throat, battling with your very heart that’s lodged there too, but you nod anyway.

He pulls his hand back and lets the spool unravel, when he uncurls his fingers a diamond ring slides down the thread and onto your waiting hand.

“You and I – we’re connected,” he says. “Every day we become more entwined. And I want us to stay like this for the rest of our lives. Every day more and more. Will you marry me?” And it is not so much a question, but a promise. 

“Yes,” you tell him. Of course you will be his wife. “Of course, I will.” He kisses you. 

-

You wake one lazy Sunday morning, months and months of happiness later, your head anchored over his heart. Warm and soft and surrounded by him, you open your eyes to take in the sight of your hand laying over his heart, the gleam of your engagement ring sparkling in the sun. You stretch your legs and listen to the creak in your knee, and when you shift to turn your face up to him, he’s already looking down at you. 

“My love, it’s almost noon,” he murmurs, presses a kiss to your eyelid.

Your eyes are so heavy, your head drowsy, “‘M so sleepy, dunno why…” You burrow further back into his chest, yawning. 

“No?” he nuzzles the crown of your head, hand creeping around to cup your breast and gently drag his thumb back and forth across your nipple 

“I had a dream we had a baby,” you mumble, voice full of sleep.

“Did you?”

“Yeah,” you say through another yawn.

“Hmm…” He shifts up on his elbow over you, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, another over the curve of your ear. You roll into him, hiding your face under his jaw and breathing in his smell, sleep and musk and Joel. “What was it like?” he asks softly, dragging his hand down the length of your spine. “Tell me.”

“It was perfect. She was perfect.”

“She?”

You hum, “Little baby girl…”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then the tolling of the bell: “Your period’s three weeks late, sweet girl,” he whispers into your ear, shares the secret with you, nuzzles into the crook of your neck. His palm sweeps over your belly, and you freeze at his words, thinking back, trying to count days, finally snapping truly awake. 

“What? Why– why didn’t you say anything?”

A deep sound hums in his chest as his hand sneaks over your hip to clutch a handful of your ass, and then to cup between your legs, pressing his growing erection into the apex of your thighs.“Thought you’d want to come to it on your own.” He kisses the tip of your breast over your soft, lace camisole. 

You don’t cry anymore, or, well, at least not as often as you once did. A constant well of tears ready to spill over at any moment. No longer a weeper, in a long line of weepers. There’s just too much happiness for that now. 

But you cry now, at this, you can’t help yourself. The feeling of this, the idea of the two of you coming together to make your own little person, a sibling for Sarah, it’s a call for happiness of the highest order, like nothing else that’s ever come before it. He holds you in his arms, kisses you deep and wet, and as he licks into your mouth, you feel his own tears slide along your cheeks, intertwine with your own.

-

He finds the two of you singing and dancing to Shania Twain in the family room, Sarah’s own special, revised version, one afternoon. Bumping hips, and then clutching hands to spin Sarah away from your body, and then twirl her back in, squeezing her tight in your arms, picking her up to spin around with her yourself as the two of you sing at each other. 

His daughter catches him spying over your shoulder, “Daddy, come dance with us!” and you turn, gracing him with the sight of your gorgeous smile, as he comes over to wrap his arms around the two of you, relieving you of her weight. He anchors a hand to the small of your back to steady you, feeling the small swell of your belly press into his pelvis. Let me let you in on a secret, Shania sings.

“You wanna hear it?” you tease. How to treat a woman right.

“Don’t I know already?”

You sway in his arms and he brings his hand up to cup the back of your head, Sarah’s little palm is on his cheek, tugging at his beard, spin us, Daddy, spin us!

“Yeah, baby, you do. Like no one else.” He kisses you, and the three of you spin together, around and around. You’ll see love is gonna play its part.

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

#someone's fic #Joel miller #the last of us fic #joel miller x female reader #Joel Miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller/you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic

[eaglyn]

Because you stuck around | Gojo Satoru x reader college au

Summary: you had been Gojo's only die-hard loyal friend in his so far twenty years of life, but it took saving him from a quarter-life crisis for him to finally admit to you just how precious you were to him Not proofread bc we're lazy Decided to switch it up a little from the usual Genshin stuff

You first met the man child when he was only a child, as your parents were great friends of his parents, which meant you two would get a whole lot of play dates as kids.

Whenever he looked into your eyes even back then, you felt like you were frozen in place by those radiant blues. There was also something about the way he looked at you, and only you. For a while you felt as if you weren't the only one who's stomach filled with butterflies when you gazed at one another.

Eventually, he got older and achieved a great amount of fame via all his amazing accomplishments, and also good looks. While he never had a weird phase in puberty regarding looks, he definitely did have a personality change.

All the praise went to his head, so much so that whenever he talked to you, it was always just about how awesome he was. In middle school, he had his own little cult, or gang of devoted followers, who by themselves could be considered the cool kids, but only when Satoru wasn't around.

He turned into one of the most insufferable of egotistical bullies, but he didn't bully you, and you stuck around. You always did.

In high school, you two went to separate high schools that were on the same street, right across from one another. Girls from your school would often sneak into his school during lunch break just to get a glimpse of him in the flesh, while you just rolled your eyes at the whole situation.

Still, you were there if he ever needed to boast about all the love letters he had received that week, or tell someone about all the details of his new girlfriend. You stuck around, even though it was a type of thankless devotion. It was a well known fact that you were his only long time good friend, so while many girls envied you and stared daggers at you in the halls or on the streets, other girls did anything they could to be friends with you, just to get information about Satoru.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't at least a little bit happy with your popularity.

Things changed when you two reached college. Both you and Satoru moved across the country to attend a prestigious college. During the first year, he got to live in his very own three bedroom mansion, while you just shared a dorm with three other girls, which you didn't mind, but it wasn't exactly luxury.

Your friendship was only being held together by the feelings you still had left for him after all this time, as now, he barely even talked to you anymore. He was way too caught up in his lavish lifestyle, blasting mountains of money on girls and partying each week, and steadily failing all his classes at the same time.

Still, you stuck around and watched over him from afar, but you could only roll your eyes and shake your head at what he was doing with his life. That brings you to this summer.

You had the highest grades from your entire year in your college, while it wasn't hard to guess that Satoru's were the lowest. You became quite popular, as many people asked you to help them with things they didn't understand, as well as just taking advice from you in general.

You'd never have expected a depressed looking Gojo Satoru to approach you one day, asking for help with dark circles around his eyes, messed up hair and clothes, and a look in his eyes that indicated a mental breakdown. Still, the way he looked at you was the same as back then.

"Y/n... can you please help me improve my grades? If I continue like this, I'll be kicked out. Please, I'll do anything." He said to you. If it were any other person with his lifestyle begging for help, you may have just laughed in their face and told them to change life paths entirely, but it was Satoru. You could only nod and offer a comforting hug.

You contacted his parents regarding his issues, and while they were furious at him, they couldn't stop thanking you for sticking around and helping him. They arranged for you to stay at his college house from now on, just so you could keep a closer eye on him as you two worked through his quarter life crisis together.

By the time you reached Christmas, his grades had improved majorly, and he was a completely changed person. He had gotten back his cheerful, bubbly personality that you once knew him for, and while he wasn't blatantly rude and egotistical, he continued to play into the act, partially as a joke, and also because old habits die hard. And you were the one to thank for this change for him, because as always, you stuck around.

This was his first time in so many years that he didn't spend Christmas partying, but instead with you, and only you, enjoying all the amazing foods you made, and otherwise curling up on the couch with you as you two binged movies.

You don't even know how many romcoms you two had gone through the past couple days, but while it was entertaining, you couldn't help but envy the people in those movies, always getting their happily ever after with the one they love, while you were just here, raising a man child that you had been in love with since you were two.

Little did you know that when you'd be opening your present from him on Christmas Eve, you'd find amongst all the amazing things he bought you, a hand-written letter, and that he'd be watching you anxiously as you opened and read it, praying to everything both up above and down below that you wouldn't react by ripping it up and tossing it on the floor.

My dear Y/n, This is my 89th attempt at writing this letter, but I'm afraid if I tried to tell you what I want to say in outspoken words, it would be even worse than this. Please don't hate me. I want to confess to you something that I was too scared to say out loud, so here goes. I know I might have never shown it, but I've loved you ever since we were just little kids. I know I was a really bad friend to you growing up, but you always continued to stick around, no matter how insufferable I got. I could never understand it. I was the one who was famous, the one who was deemed perfect by everyone on the outside, but it was you who turned out so amazing, while I just became a wreck, leaving you, the only one who stuck around after all this time, to fix me. I'm eternally grateful for everything you've done for me, and I wish I could repay you. I wish that some day you could find it in you to reciprocate my love for you, but even if you can't, I will always wait for you, just as you did for me, as a way of paying off my debt. Keep in mind that I've never actually confessed to anyone, as I never truly loved anyone that I've been with in the past, though you probably knew that by yourself. With sincere love, Satoru. P.S. I hope you didn't die of cringe by the time you reached the end of this.

You giggled as you read the line on the bottom of the paper, looking up at Satoru afterwards, and he seemed like a lost puppy with a begging look in his eyes. Even the time he came asking for your help, he didn't look like he was so hopeful.

"I didn't die of cringe, as you can see." You said with a smirk on your face, taking all of his constipated facial expression in as you kept eye contact for a long time period.

"...and?" He broke the silence after about fifteen seconds, gulping right after.

"I love you too, you idiot." You said, catching him as he practically flew into your arms. You had been waiting for this moment for way too long.

He leaned down and softly pressed his lips against yours, stealing your breath for a short time before pulling away after a few seconds. His cocky persona had returned.

"Why did I ever have my doubts? I'm awesome!" He said, making you giggle.

"What a man child." You shook your head before kissing him again, just enjoying the romcom moment you had been desiring for so long.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #anime #confessions #reader insert #female reader #college #college life #romance #first kiss #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #childhood friends #fluff #fanfic

[thedivineart]

PICK A CARD ✶ words to describe your current life v.s your future life﹙💮﹚

one

collab with: @thedivineart

current:

cards: king of wands, the tower, the hermit

life's has been rough for you and you losing hope about your future, it's like no matter how effort and hard work you put in certain situation and doing, you still being end up like nothing, you lose hope about succeeding in your life and you never see yourself being in that situation. there's no good being in negativity, keep trying until you succeed, if you still failed try again, the one of main reason why you have years to spend to try again whenever you failed, made a mistake and learned lesson from it. don't give up, roads might have a lot of rocks however that's was a part of your path, how can you remove the rocks if your just going to stare on it - try to do something so you can move, remember your patience and determination is being tested at this present time. Keep going and keep trying for a better future of yours, blockages and challenges may want you to give up but that is part of your line and the path towards your desire or dream life. Also you really lose hope since no one was their during your hard times, no one is listening to your problems and rants about your life which brings so much sadness and loneliness in you.

future:

cards: the chariot, 4 of swords, ace of swords, wheel of fortune, queen of cups

in future, you will overcome a lot of obstacles in your journey to success. you were to determine to achieve this kind of victory in life, you were working too hard and as well focus in what you do however you might be lucky some rest and possibly your health becomes low if you doesn't learn to focus on your health, balancing is the key here. on the other hand, for some people who pick this pile, I do sense that you still not be able to face your obstacles in life, which causes leaving fear inside of you. stress and anxiety will be knocking at you door and it is a part of your path. your ideas, hard work and intellectual ability will lead you to other places that you never been knew before perhaps your boss choose you to be the representative that will be send to foreign country to deal something important. it likes your mental capability and skills will lead you to the success you want in your previous life. your life might be not really good at the present however that is a part of your destiny or fate, also it is part of your past life karma. you will actually change a lot in future, you will become more mature, focus and serious. you often use your mind to create something creative ideas and plans that can be use to your working skills and success. You actually know what to do and you got some plans for your future, you got the clarity vision of it, don't doubt your intuition. you will becoming someone who is kind, warm and sensitive. as the time past by you will learn from your mistakes, and will be a warning not to do it again. I think of people who pick this pile are Libra or got strong Libra placements into their chart, you could be a psychic too.

extras:

learn to congratulate yourself even in small wins

your mission here in life wasn't to survive, you were here to thrive and we know you can do it

not all the winners are the one who never fail sometimes it is the people who never quit

whenever you brings back the memories on how far you been through, you'll find yourself being thankful

you were strong because you been through in weak and downfall moments

you will be creating the life you want

you are a magnet of wealth and success

when you learn something. teach people. when you get something. give people

resort, gathering, basketball, city & light are bright, pinkish, city, big chandelier, air sign, heartbreaker, clumsy, Asia, bald, cooking, clean/neat, medium, they will approach, a friend, rings, dog, possessive, girl, successful, summer, big, drinks, poor, selfish

note:

Hello, please do pay a visit to my account @thedivineart , your support and encouragement will be always enlightened me, Thank You♡

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If you liked this reading leaving like, comment or feedback and re-blog are highly appreciated, thank you😊🤍

two

collab with: @pinksobg

current:

pile two, your current life came represented with appreciation and/or your passion for something, it came very pretty and a clear image of you getting your hands up as a young apprentice, who is just starting out but this is far from being bad, because you have love for your ideals within you. the tower; for this beautiful apprentice who came like you, here seems to exist a turning point or something unexpected; like when life seems to give you a big punch in the gut, whether it's a worry or something. with the passing intellect or energies in your life, we can see the 6 of swords: oh yes! after that crumbling tower moment, metaphorically speaking, you're picking up your things and moving on. you are going and walking a path where you can think for yourself. is about that, pile 2? look, with the passage of this path; I asked about your emotional state and another movement card came: the car. you are really changing things, it seems here. changing ideas, concepts, airs or even some cycle of people and/or energies. in your current life, spirituality came like the ace of cups: it seems here that good news comes to you like this; with signs, intuition, good advice, acts of charity or kindness (whether from you, others or both parts); you can really receive good news from the universe, affection, love, respect and even a kind of epiphany through words or, like a beautiful sunset or a flower rising.

future:

for the future, pile two, we can see your efforts. we can see the harvest from after times. with the wheel of fortune, it is possible to perceive that it will be a new cycle. spring, summer, fall, winter. page of cups and knight of wands: you will be stabilized, how nice! 💞 you will be with your emotional state and your passions/activities working as a team. is this your wish? this is the result of a lot of practice, right? maybe you'll need protection from envy, but rest assured, you're safe. friend, if you are interested, try a bath of herbs or new scents to connect with your inner desires and needs — sounds like an advice from your future self. everything will be fine and you will grow up, you will learn how to deal with things you want clarification for. moreover, we have here the seven of cups. "Watch carefully how you treat yourself. Then your course will be extremely clear. Focus and surrender to what is really important to you. Choices are necessary."

"The card seven of cups also tells that we tend to create excesses to compensate for some things that are on low."

"To find your own truth and get back on track, you have to stop traveling in illusions. Whatever you refuse to see or acknowledge within yourself manifests itself in your environment with undeniable force. Take healthy responsibilities. When you are willing to do this, a solution can come much faster."

channeled messages: wine, orange, 7, love, cinderella, love (again), welcoming, welcome, cycles, changes, four seasons, apprentice work, discipline, table, pillow, calming music, spiritual words, high spirituality, sun, sunset, courage, fire placements, rising, air placements.

note:

Hello, please do take have some time to visit their account @pinksobg , read and support their works and blog, trust me they are amazing, Thank You♡

: ･. ﾟ ✧. : ･. ☽˚｡ ･ﾟ ✧: ･. :.

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three

collab with: @alchemie-tarot

current:

cards: 3 of swords, the chariot, queen of wands

you seem to be trying to move on really fast from something heavy and really personal to you. something terrible or something drastically different from what you were expecting had happened. it has affected you deeply but you seem quite determined to not let it show. there is a facade you’re keeping right now— i’m hearing “strong and independent.” you take a lot of pride in appearing put together and making others see that it doesn’t faze you. if this was about a connection, you’re in quite a rush to surround yourself with new people, but for want of distraction that you may be afraid to admit to yourself. it can feel kinda nice for a while but you see, you can only deny the reality of what you truly feel for so long. these feeling will continue to linger not so far off behind you if you keep avoiding to process them, especially if it’s regarding something important to you.

future:

cards: king of pentacles, the sun, the star

very lovely shift of energy!! gradually, this situation will feel a bit bearable to handle. you will let go of the need to rush out of it or run away from it. it’s okay, pile 3; just because some things don’t resolve right away doesn’t mean they won’t ever resolve at all. it may not feel like things are moving right now, but they are, and you will see the change soon, seriously. have some trust that the deep sadness and despair will turn right around in its own way. at some point, you’re just gonna realize that it no longer has a grip on you anymore. for some reason, i feel like this loss ends up leading to a certain gain, a material one. perhaps your story or experience is key for you to start an idea related to business or simply something that leads to more growth for you. something that plants your feet firmly on the ground. soon your own cup will be overflowing. no more baggage. what happened before will stay in the past and will only serve to direct you to the healing and shining happiness that will be in front of you in due time.

note:

Hello, please do take have some time to visit her account @alchemie-tarot , read and support her works and blog, trust me they are amazing, Thank You♡

: ･. ﾟ ✧. : ･. ☽˚｡ ･ﾟ ✧: ･. :.

If you liked this reading leaving like, comment or feedback and re-blog are highly appreciated, thank you😊🤍

#pick a card #pick a pile #pick a deck #pick a photo #pick a picture #pick an image #divination #divination community #spirituality #witch #witch community #witchblr #tarot witch #tarotblr #psychic #psychictarot #intuitive #intuition #intuitive tarot reading #pick a card reading #pick a card readings #pick a card tarot #pick a pile reading #pick a pile readings #pick a pile tarot #tarot community #oracle reading #future reading #tarot card reading #tarot reading

[racingline3]

Nervous ~ Carlos Sainz

♡ Carlos Sainz x Leclerc!Reader

Description: Carlos approaches you at a Ferrari party

~fluff~

Ferrari knows how to throw a party, you think as you sit at the bar.

Charles had got from P4 to P1 today. It was worth celebrating.

You had lost Arthur in the crowd and now without any of your brothers around, you were alone. Considering you alternated race weekends between Charles and Arthur, you had never really got to know much of either team. You were just the Leclerc sister with the right passes around your neck.

You had been apprehensive about going along to the party, but Charles had wanted you to come along and you couldn't say no to him as he practially bounced around like a champagne soaked puppy.

Despite not being bitten by the racing bug, it was still a part of your family's DNA and you wanted to celebrate all your brother's achievements, just like they did for you in your chosen career.

But all the familial love didn't help as you sat alone at the bar wondering how soon you could leave.

"This seat taken?" You would know that voice anywhere.

"Hi Carlos." You say in surprise, "No, take a seat." You presume he's there to order more drinks so you're surprised when he turns to give you his full attention you.

"You are not enjoying the party?" He asks and you quickly squash the bizarre urge to reach up and trace your fingers along his collarbone that's exposed from his loose button up shirt. That would be ridiculous, he's your brother's teammate.

"Not really. I don't know many people."

"You know me." He says, those dark eyes threatening to mesmerise you.

"So...have you any plans for the summer break?" You ask, wracking your brain for conversation starters while your senses are being overloaded by Carlos' full attention.

"Is that an invitation back to your house?" He asks with a wolfish grin and you blush at his words.

Last summer break, Ferrari had decided team bonding was needed and made Carlos spend a week with you family and vice versa for Charles.

You had only been there for a day, but while your brother's were off on jet skis, Carlos had chatted with you like you were old friends. Like he knew you.

You had admittedly missed those few hours ever since.

"You're always welcome." You say instead of saying something crazy like that he should come to your apartment and never leave.

"If you ever want to see the sights of Spain, you know where to find me."

"Usually in a really fast red car driving in circles?" You quip. You can't blame the electricity sparkling under your skin on the one drink you've had, you're sure it's caused by the scent of Carlos' cologne.

"How do you suggest I try to get your attention then?"

"You don't have to try to get me attention Cariño. You are difficult not to notice."

You feel like falling off your chair and turning to mush at his admission.

"Oh." You're afraid that your brain may have short circuited like a few of the cars on the grid earlier today.

"I wanted to ask you out last summer break." He admitted, and you forgot all about the party around you. "But then Arthur hopped back onto the boat and I didn't see you again until the season started back up."

"I..." You were lost for words, the two of you were in a room with the rich and famous and he wanted you, of all people. "I've been at a few races since then..."

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile, "Charles is a particularly good guard dog around you. And how am I supposed to drive the fast car is circles properly if I'm nervous about asking you out?"

You blink. "I make you nervous?" You have to ask for clarification, idly wondering if Carlos had ever looked in the mirror or checked his professional career history.

"It is not like I can impress you with race car driving like everybody else, is it? You don't care about it."

"I care about it." You argue then rethink when he raises an eyebrow, "Or I care about how people I care about do. Yeah...I do prefer watching football actually." You lean over to admit in a whisper and he smiles.

"So, what do you say about going on a date with a guy who drives a car in circles with your brother?" Carlos asks sweetly

"I'd really like that."

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #f1 #formula 1 #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #short blurb #ferrari #leclerc #fanfic #f1 fic

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

They’ve suspended Matt Hancock for going on I’m a celeb. Thoughts?

YEAH THEY HAVE

Okay so for those just joining us let me explain this latest dance segment in the clown show

So during the Pandemic, back in the days of Big Dog the Clown being our Prime Minister and encouraging us all to go out and catch COVID because he thought that would make us all stronger, our Health Secretary was a terrifyingly incompetent humanoid blancmange called Matt Hancock. As with all of BlowJo's Cabinet, Matt got the job because he was absolutely fucking terrible at everything except being an oily sycophant. Imagine, if you will, they looked around the circus and saw, not even a clown, but one of the freaks in the freak show; not because he even fit the profile for 'circus freak', but because all he had to do was sit there and guard the bin or something equally useless, and that was all he could achieve (for about 71% of the time, and he would otherwise get distracted by candy floss, which he would try to eat by ramming it into his own nostrils and then get into a muddle and cry); and then imagine that guy is who they selected to be in charge of safety for the acrobat show, and called him Chief Safety Clown.

This guy.

So obviously Britain immediately generated one of the worst covid mortality rates on the planet.

But he didn't stay in position too long, because in the summer of 2021, he broke his own lockdown rules by, yes you guessed it, having a greasy affair with an aide in his Downing Street office and taking her on taxpayer-funded dates. And obviously, that was a big problem because the public were super furious with politicians breaking the lockdown rules, so Boris Johnson did the sensible thing and fired him LMAO LOL ROFL I'm sorry I can't keep a straight face, Boris Johnson said it was completely fine and he could stay.

But uh. Matt Hancock decided a lynch mob was not a scenario he'd planned for, so he resigned, and bumbling ham Sajid Javid took over instead.

So, that explains who he is. Now, his signature move is basically to just fellate whichever ringmaster will give him a job, because as you may have guessed, he certainly is not capable of getting a job otherwise, other than guarding the bin. So as the latest ringmaster auditions began, he immediately set about making little "Rishi is the Greatest Briton" badges and generally doing a really good imitation of Nadine Dorries, except for Sunak instead of Johnson.

...which didn't work because Rishi Sunak passed him up for a job entirely lol

So as far as I can see I think Matt Hancock has finally realised that the only reason he was given a job was because Boris gave him one for doing good cheering. I think he's actually spotted that no one else even likes him, because he's greasy and disgusting and also killed loads of people. So if he wants to get back into politics - or indeed if he wants to move from there into the lucrative world of after dinner speaking - he needs to build his public profile as someone who is likeable and doesn't kill a chunk of the country and doesn't have grubby wandering hands like moist prehensile plums.

So, he decided to go on I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here.

(???!?!?????)

Except the thing is, "being an MP" is actually a job, and you are actually expected to pretend to do that job. I don't know how anyone else's jobs work, Tumblrs, but I personally am not allowed to just... go to Australia for three weeks without taking any annual leave and abandon the office, and also get paid to do so while still drawing my salary. And it turns out nor are MPs.

His excuses so far are:

I can be an MP in the Australian outback, I'm going to talk about dyslexia so really I'll still be working

I don't think I can work in politics for much longer because I'm bad at guarding the bin and Rishi won't let me do anything else even though I said his hair looks nice :(

Let's see how this is going down!

Oh to have a job where you can decide for yourself you're taking a month off, abandon your work and responsibilities, get paid shedloads and face little consequence. I'm sure he'll be an inspiration to other public servants

-Dave Penman, general secretary of the FDA union which represents senior civil servants

The prime minister believes that at a challenging time for the country, MPs should be working hard for their constituents, whether that's in the house or indeed in their constituencies.

-Rishi Sunak's spokesperson

Matt Hancock isn’t a ‘celebrity’, he’s the former health secretary who oversaw the UK having one of the highest death tolls in the world from Covid-19 while breaking his own lockdown rules. The fact that he is trying to cash in on his terrible legacy, rather than showing some humility or seeking to reflect on the appalling consequences of his time in government, says it all about the sort of person he is.

-Lobby Akinnola, from the Covid-19 Bereaved Families for Justice campaign

Following a conversation with Matt Hancock, I have considered the situation and believe this is a matter serious enough to warrant suspension of the whip with immediate effect

-Conservative chief whip, Simon Hart

I’m looking forward to him eating a kangaroo’s penis. You can quote me on that.

-Deputy chair of the West Suffolk Conservative Association, Andy Drummond

So there we have it, folks! It's going super well!!!!

But having the whip suspended means "expelled from the party until the matter is resolved", which means he is, as of now, no longer a Tory - he's an Independent. I imagine his constituents are delighted.

#politik #asks

[imawkwardlysoc]

you wonder how he got his call sign

Song: Don't Blame Me by Taylor Swift

Paring: mickey garcia x reader (afab)

Warning(s): None, just pure fluff!

Word Count: 2,767

Summary: A little story on how Mickey got his call sign.

Call signs. No matter if you’re in the Marines, Navy, or Air Force, you get a call sign. Some badass ones like Iceman and Maverick may have a cool background if you assume, but in reality, most of them come from pretty embarrassing things. Like Payback for example and the amount of bets that he lost. Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia, on the other hand, has another story.

The first of artists covering other artists' songs first came out in the 1950s. Soon over half a decade later, cover videos started to come out more on YouTube. Singers like Sam Tsui, Christina Grimmie, Conor Maynard, and many others have risen to fame with their covers coming out in the late 2000s/early 2010s. Some have also got the chance to be signed to record labels and winning awards like Y/N L/N. To Mickey though, he doesn’t think of Grammy Award winner Y/N L/N, he thinks of Y/N L/N who he used to help record her cover videos in her bedroom or the backyard of her house.

Every Friday since meeting each other freshman year of high school, Y/N would drag Mickey out of their last period class and out of their high school in Miami to her house to start recording cover videos. As she uploaded her videos onto YouTube, her views went from a few hundred to a few thousand until one day.

“Mickey! Mickey!” The junior yelled her best friend’s name as she ran down the school hallway. “Where are you?”

“Yo! What’s going on?” Mickey closed his locker after grabbing everything he needed.

He turned to face the singer whose face was all red from the running as the screen of her BlackBerry Bold was in his line of sight. Squinting his eyes a little, he looked at the screen which showed one of the recent covers she uploaded.

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed. “One hundred thousand?”

“I know right!” The two of them started to jump together in celebration, ignoring the looks they’re getting.

“This is crazy!” Y/N said, still not believing that her cover of Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood reached that many views.

“You know what this means?” Mickey’s eyebrow was raised. “The chance of you getting signed to a record label.”

“Yeah, not happening,” Y/N let out a laugh. “Never in a million years.”

“Hey,” he gently squeezed her shoulder. “It’s going to happen. I have a good feeling.”

Y/N shook her head at her friend’s nonsense and dragged him to their first class of the day.

Years passed and their friendship grew even more. They shared homecoming and prom dances together. They had many all nighters studying for the AP tests they signed up for and working on college applications. The both of them dated people but their relationships only lasted for three to four months max because they both were missing something. Mickey still continued to help Y/N post her covers on her channel which grew after that one day.

Towards the end of the summer break after they graduated, the duo had to head their separate ways for college. They still kept in contact though by the emails they sent each other and visiting each other in Miami during breaks. With every visit, their feelings grew more without them realizing it.

Mickey had achieved his dream of getting into the Naval Academy and became a weapons system officer, getting the callsign Fanboy from his classmates seeing him geek out and watch Y/N’s covers. Y/N continued uploading her covers onto YouTube while studying literature at the University of Miami. It wasn’t until her senior year of college she got the best news of her life.

The sound of her sandals slapping the concrete sidewalk boomed as she ran down the concrete path which led to the park her and Mickey would sometimes hang out at. With his back facing against her, she leaped on his back which took Mickey out a little.

“Hey, you missed me that much?” Mickey laughed.

“Yeah, but I have some news,” Y/N answered.

“Which is?” He asked.

She didn’t verbally answer but she handed him the small stack of papers. Going through the papers, she saw the look on Mickey’s face as his face lit up with each page.

“No, you’re joking.” Mickey pulled her into a hug.

“I’m not,” she confirmed. “You’re looking at the newest artist signed with Atlantic Records.”

“You’re not going to forget me when you become famous right?” Mickey joked.

“Are you kidding? I won’t forget my best friend.” Y/N lightly punched his shoulder.

“Yeah, best friend,” Mickey sighed.

“What? Are you okay?” A quizzed look formed on her face.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Mickey brushed off his emotions.

“Hey Mick, tell me what’s up.” Y/N held his hand which sent sparks through the both of them.

“You’re going to hate me when I do this,” he said.

“Do wh-” Y/N was interrupted when Mickey’s lips touched hers.

Butterflies and fireworks exploded inside them as their lips moved in sync. Detaching their lips from each other to catch their breath, they looked each other in the eyes questioning what just happened.

“Did that just?”

“Yeah.”

Kissing each other again, they confirmed that their feelings for each other were true. After the second kiss, Mickey decided to take Y/N for an early dinner to celebrate her getting a record deal and have a pre-first date date.

More years have passed with the both of them graduating with their degrees. Their relationship grew more as they became official. Mickey was out doing the five years required to serve after he graduated after the academy. Y/N on the other hand was busy writing and recording her first album. Constant filming for her music videos and traveling to promote her album.

Despite them being hundreds or thousands of miles apart, they managed to keep their relationship alive. They had many video calls together and if she toured in an area where Mickey was at, he would watch her concerts with Reuben “Payback” Finch, who is the only person that knows her and Mickey are together other than close friends and family. When Y/N started to become more well known, she wanted to keep her personal life private. She did post pictures of her and Mickey together on her social media accounts but they didn’t show Mickey’s face.

On the eve of Mickey’s last deployment, she came back home with the living room of their shared house decorated with flowers and lit candles. In the space where their coffee table used to be, Mickey was on one knee holding a velvet box in his hand. With a short and sweet speech as tears ran down their faces, Y/N nodded her head saying yes to his proposal. A few months after Mickey came back from his deployment, the two had a small private ceremony with their close friends and family in a cabin up in the Santa Cruz mountains. Reuben as Mickey’s best man and Y/N’s college roommate as her maid of honor.

Luckily for Y/N, she could travel and stay anywhere with her job. With Mickey being moved from base to base because of his job, she would follow him while still making music while renting a house off base. From time to time she would have to travel and stay in New York for a little bit for meetings and to record her music. Thankfully when Mickey got called back to Top Gun, they resided permanently in a house that was only a fifteen minute drive away from base after the Dagger Squadron was made permanent in San Diego. Many dinners with her, Mickey, and Reuben were shared as they told stories of the other squadron members they met for the mission. Y/N continued to make music and released her next album which caused her to be away from Mickey to promote it and tour around Europe and North America.

After a day of training, the Dagger Squad decided to head to the Hard Deck for some drinks.

“Amelia has been depressed since the LA tickets for Y/N sold out,” Rooster said before taking a sip of his beer.

“Really?” Mickey raised his eyebrow.

“Yeah, Y/N is one of her favorite singers. Ever since those tickets sold out the first day, she’s been blasting her music in her room and headphones,” the aviator answered.

The WSO nodded his head and excused himself. Taking his phone out, he checked the time to see that Y/N wasn’t on stage yet. Calling her and waiting for a few rings, she answered her husband’s call.

“Hey baby, what’s up?” She asked. “How was work?”

“It was good, got our asses handed by Maverick but that’s normal,” he chuckled. “How are you?”

“I’m good, just two hours before we head onto stage,” she replied. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, but hey can I ask for a favor?” He asked.

“What is it?” She said.

“You know Rooster right?” Y/N hummed in confirmation. “Well, his little sister wants to see you in LA but the tickets sold out immediately. Is there any way you can get a ticket for her?”

“I’ll check, give me a minute,” she told him. “Stay on the line.”

Taking a sip of his drink, he waited for his wife while admiring the cooling winds of San Diego while the sun setted.

“Hey, you’re still there?” Y/N voice popped into his ear.

“Yeah, so what’s the verdict?” He replied, mentally crossing his fingers.

“Yeah, how many tickets do you need?” The singer asked. “Twelve plus your captain, his girlfriend, and daughter, that would be fifteen. Is that good?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, we have more than enough tickets. Just tell everyone and I’ll send you the info. Also, all of y’all need a break from training.”

“Wow, I’ll tell everyone. Thank you for doing this. I love you.”

“I love you too. You can thank me later when you get to LA.” Mickey could already imagine the smirk on his wife’s face.

Hanging up the phone with a grin on his face, Mickey headed back into the bar and stood next to Rooster.

“I managed to get a ticket for Amelia,” he told the pilot.

“Wait, how?” The pilot questioned.

“I know someone who’s one of the guitar techs on her tour. I managed to get all of us plus Maverick and Penny a ticket,” he told everyone.

“Wait, we’re seeing Y/N in LA?” Phoenix started to fangirl a little. “Don’t mess with me Fanboy.”

“I’m not, I’ll text you the information into the group chat,” he confirmed.

“We’re going to see Y/N baby!” Coyote cheered.

While everyone celebrated, Reuben sent his WSO a smirk knowing who gave them the tickets.

*Concert Day*

“Mick, are you sure we’re supposed to park here?” Maverick asked as he got out of Rooster’s Bronco.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Mickey answered his captain.

“Because we’re by where Y/N L/N’s tour bus is,” Rooster added.

“Trust me, we can be here,” Mickey reassured them while pulling out his phone.

Making the call, they waited for a few more minutes before Y/N’s manager came out of the Forum with VIP passes in hand. Mickey greeted the manager and they handed Mickey the passes. All of the members were shocked when they saw the passes they got, questioning how Mickey managed to get these. All of them thought they were getting tickets up in the nosebleeds, but they were mistaken.

“Mickey!” The singer jumped into her husband’s arms when she saw him.

“Hello my love,” the Navy man mumbled before kissing her.

Everyone except for Reuben was shocked at the sight they were seeing. They couldn’t believe that one of their WSO’s was kissing the singer they would soberly and drunkenly sing out the lyrics while doing karaoke.

“I missed you,” the singer wrapped her arms around Mickey’s neck.

“Me too, four weeks is too long.” Mickey moved a strand of hair out of Y/N’s face. “Everyone’s here already.”

Y/N moved away from Mickey and saw his pilot standing there with a grin on his face. “Ru-Ru, it’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you again too,” the pilot returned her hug.

Letting go of the hug, Y/N looked at the rest of her husband’s squadron who had shocked expressions on their faces. “Hi, you must be Mickey’s squadron and you must be Amelia, is that right?”

“Y-Yeah,” Amelia stuttered as her idol stood in front of her.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Y/N smiled at her and looked at Maverick who stood behind her. “You must be Captain Mitchell. Mickey and Reuben have been telling me great things about you.”

“It’s a pleasure meeting you m’am. Thank you for inviting us,” Maverick said.

“Anything for Mickey's adopted family,” Y/N smiled. “Also, call me Y/N.”

“I will if you call me Pete or Maverick,” Pete smiled.

“That’s a deal,” Y/N chuckled and faced the squad again. “Mickey, wanna introduce me to your team members?”

Mickey nodded his head and introduced his wife to the rest of the Dagger Squad. After the introductions, everyone headed to the greenroom.

“So, you’re telling me that Reuben knew that Fanboy over here is dating Y/N?” Hangman asked. “The same Y/N who won a Grammy and many Billboard Music awards?”

“Not dating, we’re married,” Y/N corrected the Texan.

“What!” Everyone yelled/exclaimed.

“Married for almost five years.” Mickey and Y/N looked at each other in admiration.

“You knew that already didn’t you?” Halo asked Reuben.

“He should, he was my best man,” Mickey answered for his pilot. “Also, who do you think Don’t Blame Me is about?”

“And I thought Bob over here had secrets we don’t know about,” Omaha chuckled.

“Nah, she’s the only secret that I have.” Mickey tenderly pressed his lips onto his wife’s.

Soon after that, the topic of conversation changed, promising them the couple would host dinner to get to know Y/N more.

After spending an hour or so in the greenroom, Y/N had to start getting ready for the show. Giving his wife one last kiss, he met up with the squad following one of the assistants to the VIP booth Y/N set them in. The booth provided food, snacks, and drinks for them while giving them a view close to the stage.

The lights in the venue started to dim down as the crowd’s cheers started to rise. The band started playing the introduction and the cheers from the audience elevated as Y/N rose into the stage.

Throughout the concert, the energy was amazing. Everyone was screaming and jamming out to the lyrics. All of the Dagger Squad and Penny and Amelia were enjoying the time they were having and thanking Mickey for the tickets. Mickey was pretty sure he saw Hangman and Coyote doing the choreography to I Did Something Bad.

“Alright, before we do this next song, how is everyone doing?” Y/N asked the audience as they replied with cheers. “That’s good. Fun fact, the person that I wrote this next song about is in the crowd tonight with his friends. This song is dedicated to him. Love you darling.”

Y/N sent him a wink and he winked back at her. The band started to play Don’t Blame me and everyone was taken to church by the way she performed it. The singer got down on her knees, belting out the high note which caused Mickey to form a proud smile on his face.

After a few songs and the encore, the last show of the tour was finished. Mickey and the gang headed backstage to see Y/N in a pair of sweat shorts and one of Mickey’s old t-shirts.

“You were amazing.” Mickey picked her up and spun her around.

“Thanks,” she laughed. “So, what did you guys think?”

Everyone started to compliment her performance at the same time. Y/N blushed because she wasn’t used to compliments they were giving her and let out a laugh.

“So, instead of driving back to San Diego this late, my producer is out of town and allowed us to use her house to sleepover,” Y/N told them. “What do y’all think?”

Everyone nodded their heads in approval and started to leave the venue.

#mickey garcia x reader #mickey fanboy garcia x reader #fanboy x reader #fanboy imagine #mickey fanboy garcia #natasha phoenix trace #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #robert bob floyd #javy coyote machado #callie halo bassett #pete maverick mitchell #amelia benjamin #penny benjamin #top gun x reader #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick #top gun #Spotify

[itsclydebitches]

Any tips for new grad students? I'm about to start in the fall and I'm curious how it'll be different/hopefully better than undergrad!

Congratulations, anon!!!

Let's see... some alphabetical tips based on my own experience:

Ask for help. You'll likely have a million questions and, unfortunately, the designated people who can answer them are often crazy busy and may take a while to get back to you, or forget entirely. So don't be afraid to ask for help from whoever might even feasibly know the answer -- including tumblr blogs! You're off to a great start lol

Be on the lookout for advisors early. Whether you're just in need of a singular advisory for a thesis, or if you'll be putting a whole committee together, approach every new instructor with the question, "Would I want them to mentor me through my research?" in the back of your mind. Pay attention to not just their specialties and teaching methods, but who they are as a person. Do you like them? Are you comfortable with them? Do they treat you respectfully? Do they seem to have everything well in hand? I loved my advisor dearly as a person, but he was often waaaaaay behind on his work. Looking back, I would have at least considered choosing someone with better organization/time management skills.

Get good at writing emails. Can you write a succinct, professional sounding email? Great! Get comfortable doing that throughout the whole day. Feeling a little iffy? Practice over the summer. There are a lot of templates online that can help, but you'll want to ensure you're not going into grad school still writing "k thx" from your iPhone at 3:00am. (For the record, your professors may do this, the students should not lol).

Have designated, scheduled downtime. Literally if you don't plan to take a break... you won't be taking a break. Not until your body decides to take one for you, anyway. Friday nights were always my couch potato time. Absolutely no work allowed and no strenuous activity unless it was something I was legitimately excited about (so no getting pressured into outings I didn't actually want to attend). Friday nights were sacred, a time for takeout and only whatever else I felt like doing, usually TV, video games, and vegging out with my cat.

Imposter Syndrome is a BITCH. Luckily, pretty much everyone's got it to a greater or lesser extent, we all just need to acknowledge it more. You know those boards some schools have celebrating places where students have gotten in and other achievements? Yeah, we put one up for failures in our department. Literally a giant, glittery, "CONGRATS YOU DIDN'T GET IT!" board where we hung proposal rejections, grant rejections, school rejections, scholarship rejections, job rejections, and on one memorable occasion a date rejection. I highly recommend it. Nothing lessens the sting quite as much as seeing that you're a part of a sea of similar disappointments and remembering that you're all in the same, often luck-based boat.

Pick a non-academic hobby. Your mental health will thank you, trust me. Like the designated downtime, you need to be doing something that's not reading/writing/researching 24/7. Pick a hobby that in no way relates to academics or your chosen field, preferably something hands-on and creative. Grad school is when I picked up crocheting alongside knitting.

Prepare to hold down two jobs. This really only applies if you're going to be teaching while you get your degree (or if you have an outside job for the paycheck), but I was pretty blindsided by what it took to be a full-time student and a half-time instructor. I don't really have good advice beyond "Figure out your time management skills now" and "Don't pour all your energy into one or the other because the one you've neglected WILL come back to bite you in the ass," but even just being aware of how difficult it is going to be would have staved off the initial shock.

Read strategically. Perhaps this is different for someone not in the Humanities, but you will be reading a LOT in grad school. Like, an absolutely stupid amount. There simply will not be time to cover everything from title to footnotes (I know, it hurts), so get comfortable with reading abstracts, chapter summaries, skimming, and otherwise summarizing lengthy works to figure out what you should prioritize. Unless a whole article is assigned for class, figure out what you need from any given text -- or what you think you may need -- and hone in on that. You can always return to read more if you have the time.

SAVE EVERYTHING. Do not delete emails. Get copies of everything even remotely official. Print everything out. Buy yourself a couple of cheap file boxes, stick them under your bed, and keep it all just in case. What kind of things have I unexpectedly needed to dredge up weeks, months, or even years later? The printed paper with hand-written comments to justify a grade I gave. An ancient email from a committee member proving that they did in fact sign off on a certain chapter choice. A copy of the publication forms I signed for a book collection after those got lost on their end (somehow). Seriously, save everything. You'll never know when you may need proof of some communication you've had.

Take naps. That's it. That's the advice. Someone gives you shit for being "lazy" or tries to make you feel bad for "wasting" a sunny afternoon? Make them step on a Lego and then both of you take your nap outside. Naps are beautiful and sacred and life-saving. Just set a good alarm for whenever your next class/meeting is.

Work at making friends. Unlike high school or even college where you'll be spending the day with a core group of people, in graduate school (unless your school is really small) the students are a lot more spread out and there aren't as many built-in opportunities to socialize. So plan to put in more effort at connecting with others because you will want that camaraderie, both for practical help and your sanity. I didn't realize how much more I needed to do to get to know my peers until I was nearly finished my Master's. Luckily, my PhD threw me into an office with seven other grads, so I didn't have a choice about getting to know them lol

You're responsible for your own learning. You've gotten a taste of this in college, but grad school cranks it up to 11. You're an adult (not an "adult" adult like a college student) and you've committed to putting forth 2-7 additional years towards your education. The expectation is that you want to be here and will showcase the necessary effort without outside influence (unless you require accommodations, of course). Be prepared for your instructors to treat you like a peer, both when it comes to the fun stuff - intense debates about your field! - and the responsibilities they expect you to follow through on. In some ways grad school is nothing like college because you are now focused on one subject, you are working collaboratively with people who were once solely authority figures, and 95% of the work will occur outside the classroom via self-teaching. You're a professional now. Still being mentored, but well on your way to that equal standing. The sooner you realize that you are responsible for your own education and future career -- not your teachers, your parents, your BFF, your roommate, etc. -- the better.

Most importantly:

#school #teaching #grad school

[nikki-tine]

Pretty hastily slapped together, but here's a comm sheet for those who were wondering about the prices in my pinned post! I'm a little nervous about taking comms from social media again, but I'm open to it as my family needs the money so often now...

More recently, I've taken to working on iPad - this will be a more common thing as the summer months roll around and it becomes too stuffy to stick to my PC for working on art.

Here's what I CAN do, for the moment:

Cute, simple designs - Pokemon and simple (rookie-level or earlier) Digimon are a strong suit of mine, but if you have a wonderfully simple OC I can work with too then it'll do!

Cats. I loooove drawin' cats! If you have a Warriors OC, chances are I can draw em.

Fluffy stuff overall! (As long as it's simple enough, obviously - Fluff is another comfort thing I looove to work with. This means literal fluffy stuff like fuzzy animals/critters, and figurative fluff like cuddles and tickles!)

Sans!! (No seriously, I funkin love drawin' sans. If you got a Sans I can draw, I will happily draw him!)

Here's what I CAN'T do, for the moment, on the other hand:

NSFW art (This is because a) there's minors who follow this blog - I have to keep that stuff away (and keep them safe)! and b) I'm not ready to take NSFW commissions, and probably won't be a for a while.)

Heavy gore and themes (It's a lot to work with, and it's not something I personally dabble in if at all, so the result would NOT be to your liking if I tried more than likely lol)

Intricate Detail (I have my reasons for this! My wrist has been acting up more often in the last few years and so intricate detail is... overwhelming for me, right now, outside of personal work. It's just not a strong suit of mine, as much as I'd love it to be - it's not quite a part of the art style as it is right now.)

Added notes:

- I have the right to decline a commission if it either makes me uncomfortable to work with it or otherwise is overwhelming. That is to say, if one artist can't achieve what you're looking for then usually that's an indicator to hold onto your money for a bit until you find the right person!

I send the paypal link at the halfway point (the sketch, just before lineart) normally - but if you want to pay upfront, then please let me know. (I don't wait until the piece is completely done as a safety measure to ensure the person commissioning me doesn't nab the piece and run lol)

I CANNOT REFUND ONCE THE COMMISSION IS PAID FOR. The money goes STRAIGHT into family-related necessities like bills and groceries, and I absolutely CANNOT afford to return money when we are consistently struggling to even get food for the house, nevermind commissions. (It's also just kinda mean?? :c)

I am on commission burnout - what this means is that my work may take longer than usual to get done, but I hold to my word that I get it done no matter how long it takes. If you need the piece done as priority, then make sure you specify when giving the details for your commission! (I do best, however without a time limit or deadline to work with.)

As of right now, I'm practically (metaphorically) crying for simple designs due to this burnout! I need something I can just fly through to get done so I don't stress myself out further on a queue that's been waiting to be done for a hot second.

#If y'all need to check if my comms are open please remember to check my pinned post first before asking in DMs or asks! #art #nikki-tine #commissions #comm sheet #commission sheet #commission details #chibies #chibi art #digital art #sfw tickling community #sfw tickle community #commission work

[sirsadly]

request: orc/human - human is the orc's tailor; are they upset cuz the clothing keeps getting messed up? are the appalled by the quality of their former clothing for being so shoddy? does the orc's current ensemble simply not bring out their eyes? are they distracted during a fitting for their friend who deserves nice clothes dammit and didn't expect their ripped-ness to be such a problem because it isn't with their other customers? is this fantasy or modern? -shrugs- i apparently have more thoughts than i thought but this work training is so very boring - feel free to use none of them but the overall prompt but i crave anything that doesn't discuss "the five subcategories on this slide" pls

i hope you got through that work training okay, and you enjoy this mini fic. sorry for being beyond late ;)

Where My Hand Treads 

male orc with gender neutral reader

591 words | sfw

Their thighs ate up most of the measuring tape. Their very same thigh you perfectly custom made pants for, that now stretched taut against the gulf of their muscles.

As their tailor, you were happy about their frequent patronage, but it felt like they carefully maneuvered the small shop you worked at least twice a week with an old garment at hand needing repair.

Sometimes that garment was something you made a week prior that needed mending. You wondered what their lifestyle could be like to warrant this many repairs, not that your wallet was complaining. Curiosity that is what we will call it for now, what that shapely legs do for a living.

You could excuse the ripping and loose threads, but what had you up in arms with annoyance, frustration, and maybe even anger was how his ensemble made the least amount of sense. Though he had all the pieces of a professional suit, he never seemed to put the right colours together. And when he did something of the proportions was off, or fraying at the hems hence coming to the shop.

Most importantly it hurt to see a diamond just covered in mud, his clothes never seemed to bring out his personality or the colour of his warm brown eyes. You told him as much after measuring him again for the second time this month, to make sure his clothes were not faulty on your part.

“You want to style me? But I don’t think you provide those services.” He said slowly. “Is this an exclusive offer for my frequent patronage, if so do other clients get this treatment as well.”

“You’re right we don’t. I think I’ve never offered anyone this. It’s just that you clearly need help assembling an outfit, especially if you are going to be here every day needing a garment repaired.”

His eyes wandered towards the rumbling ceiling of your small shop under the subway tracks, rubbing at the back of his head in thought. You have embarrassed him, your banter does not always read as playful as you would hope. Your ears heat in shame, in the already hot summer afternoon. Your words might not always lift a person’s confidence but you knew what you could achieve with your sewing machine and your critical eye. You knew it every time a client looked in the mirror after a fitting. 

“Please allow me, I just think you are not shining to your highest capacity. Everyone has certain colours and cuts that make them look effortlessly put together. Not everyone gets to learn that, it’s something you either gotta be passionate about or learn early on.”

Your eyes looked straight ahead to his distracted ones, trying to catch the colour change of his mood. “I would like to extend that knowledge so that you may be your brightest self. I did not mean to embarrass you…” you trailed off after his lips pulled tight. He seemed to be enduring you, that expression twin to those braving the biting wind. 

His tusks jutted out, a bit large for his face with his brown eyes, squat nose, and long curls.

You were already imagining the colours you would pull for him, neutral reds and browns for his green skin, toeing that line to bring out his complexion. He would be magnificent. This you could do, this where your hands have tread before.

“My body is in your capable hands, Tailor.” The comment did not go unnoticed, but you knew words could only go so far.

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