Draco can feel the tension in his body twisting and turning, slowly ebbing away as he and Harry leave Robards’ office in a hurry. He’d been dying to get out of that meeting from the moment it had begun this morning.
It had been a mandatory review of all of their cases from the last six months. Apparently the head of the department had decided that no one was exempt from the intense scrutiny they’d just faced over the last two hours. Hell he had expected it to be brutal based on the chatter around the Auror office from those who had already faced their own review, but even he couldn’t have anticipated the kinds of questions they would ask.
“And do you feel your relationship with Mr. Potter is completely professional?”
“Mr. Malfoy, have your feelings for Mr. Potter ever gotten in the way of your ability to make an unbiased call in the field?”
“Mr. Potter, there is a history of rash decisions in your case file. Do you believe yourself of sound mind and judgement in the heat of the moment?”
“Gentleman, have you ever had more than a professional working relationship with your Auror partner?”
They’d claimed the questions were standard, and would be the same for all partners regardless of gender or sexual orientation. A necessary precaution they’d called it. But Draco had felt his insides churning at the questions, his mind over run with thoughts and desires which he usually worked very hard to keep below the surface. He had answered them with a cool and calm countenance that had betrayed nothing of his true feelings.
Harry on the other hand had begun to get agitated the second they’d questioned his personal life.
“I’m a damn good Auror and what I do off the clock is none of your business.”
They were partners. Friends. And yet Harry had bristled at the insinuation they were more, refusing to answer the questions which Draco was sure only made things about a hundred times worse.
By the time they finally reach their office Harry is in a right mood, ripping his Auror robes off and flinging them on the chair in the corner. He takes his glasses off next, setting them on the desk and rubbing his face with both hands. He looks tired, stressed. It’s not the first time Draco has wondered why Harry is still an Auror. He’s good at it, damn good in fact, His reflexes are excellent and his experience with Dark Wizards invaluable. But even after three years working together Draco can see that he still has trouble taking orders; he’s brash and though his instinct are usually right he follows them blindly. Mostly though, despite how good he is at his job he just doesn’t seem happy.
Draco watches with curiosity as Harry just drops to the floor, as if he truly cannot take another moment of anything, running his hands through his hair before laying down. He feels guilty for the thoughts that run through his mind, the way he can’t take his eyes off the strength in Harry’s forearms, or the space between his legs. H knows he shouldn’t be thinking those things when Harry is clearly struggling. But the questions had been too much, had brought too much to the forefront of his min, and though he might not be showing it outwardly Draco feels just as close to exploding as Harry looks.
“Do you regret it?” Harry asks quite suddenly, startling Draco out of his thoughts.
“Becoming an Auror?”
Of all the things Draco thought the other man might say that is not one of them. He thinks back on the brutal years in training, of the distrust and harassment he had faced when he first joined and the hard work and determination it had taken to get anyone to take him seriously. He thinks back to when they had first become partners and the way they had argued and clashed just as intensely as they had in school, until one day after a bad case when they’d both ended up at the same bar and gotten pissed after work together. The next day he couldn’t remember what either one of them had said or done, and truth be told he still has no idea if Harry ever remembered because they never discussed it, but things had changed after that. They had begun working as a team, and before Draco had known what was happening they weren’t just two people being forced to work together they were partners; a well functioning team that both trusted and relied on one another.
He looks at Harry now, sprawled out on the floor looking tense and unhappy, something Draco now knows he hides from almost everyone else and he wonders what it means that Harry trusts him with the ugliest sides of himself so implicitly.
Draco doesn’t usually stop to think about his own feelings, not after having worked so hard to push them away. He regrets many things in his life, but becoming an Auror is not one of them, not when it has led him this. Whatever this might be.
“No, I don’t.”
Harry’s shoulders tighten and Draco wonders when exactly he learned to read the other man so well. He looks angry, at himself Draco thinks, and guilty.
“You know its ok to hate your job.”
Harry jerks his head up in surprise, his brow crinkling in confusion. “But you just said-”
“I know perfectly well what I said. I answered your question honestly. You just didn’t ask the right question.” Draco crosses his legs, leaning back in his chair and watching Harry throw his hands in the air before dropping his head back to the ground with an audible thud.
“Well what the bloody fuck was the right question?”
Draco can’t help it, he laughs. Harry shoots him an angry look.
“I’m so glad you find this so funny.”
“Always so fucking melodramatic, Potter.” Draco knows exactly what to say to get a rise out of him and Harry is on his feet in seconds.
“That meeting was a load of shit. We’re the best Aurors in the department and they know it.”
“Are you angry because they questioned your work ethic or because they questioned our relationship?” Draco says, and is surprised at how good it feels to say something. To acknowledge them in some way, even if they have no idea what they are.
Harry opens his mouth to speak and then stops as if he’s thought better of it. He suddenly looks so unsure, and so much younger than his twenty seven years. He rubs his hands on his shirt almost unconsciously and just stares at Draco.
“Do you want to know what I think?” Draco asks, rising from his seat and closing the small distance between them. He can practically feel the tension in Harry’s body, the air nearly crackling with it. “I think you’re tired of all of it; of the protocol and the bureaucracy and the phoniness. You’ve spent your entire fucking life saving everyone else and being who they needed to be and I think you’ve finally had enough. Today. Right now, Harry. You’ve had enough.”
Harry sucks in a deep breath, and Draco has no idea what to expect because he knows he’s crossing that forbidden line that says neither one of them will acknowledge real feelings but he doesn’t care because he can’t stand another day of pretending either.
“Aren’t you tired of being what everyone else needs you to be? Don’t you want to get what you need for once?”
Harry licks his lips, still unable to move from his spot as if his feet have been spelled to the floor. “And what exactly is it you think I need?”
Fuck it Draco thinks, he’s come this far already. Instead of saying anything he reaches out, his hands sliding into Harry’s hair and gently urging him closer. He presses his lips to Harry’s, afraid for a moment he’s made a mistake and gone too far but then Harry is nearly clawing at him, his hands grabbing onto Draco so tightly it almost hurts.
The kiss is almost brutal, desperate, and so fucking good Draco stops trying to hold it in and just moans into Harry’s mouth which only spurs the other man on even more. Draco’s hand is sliding down Harry’s back when there is a knock on the door and they spring apart just seconds before the door flies open. It’s Robards. Draco has never wanted to curse someone as badly as he does right in this moment. His heart aches and he just knows the moment has been ruined, that this interruption has shattered whatever fragile thing they were beginning.
“Listen, Potter, Malfoy, about before I-”
“I quit!” Harry shouts and Draco’s mouth falls open in the most un-Malfoy like display of shock he’s ever shown.
“Excuse me, Potter, you can’t quit!”
Draco doesn’t even look at Robards, because he can’t take his eyes off Harry. Harry looks giddy, euphoric even, and it reminds Draco of the way Potter used to look after he’d caught the Golden Snitch.
“Yes, Sir, I can. I quit. I hate my job,” he shouts, and then he begins to laugh. Robards looks like he thinks Harry might have lost his mind. “God that felt good to say out loud. I FUCKING HATE MY JOB!” he screams even louder, making several of the other Aurors peek their heads down the hallway and through the open door to their office.
Robards holds his hand up to silence him but Harry is paying him no mind.
“I hate the paperwork and the assignments and the bloody protocol that makes no sense sometimes and I hate the awful hours. Fuck I hate everything about it except that I get to work with you,” Harry says, turning to look at Draco with a look so pure in intensity Draco is glad he’s sitting down already.
“And what about you, Malfoy?” Robards asks, sounding equal parts confused and helpless.
“Oh I quit too. I detest this job.”
“I thought you said you didn’t regret becoming an Auror?” Harry asks suddenly, as if he’s forgotten Robards is just standing there watching them.
Draco shrugs, almost nonchalantly. “I don’t regret it, not at all. But I still fucking hate this job.”
“Then why don’t you regret it?” he asks, and Draco wonders how it’s possible that other man really doesn’t see it.
“Because you oblivious idiot, I’m in love with you. Pretty sure if you jumped out this window right now I’d follow you like a lovesick puppy. It’s absolutely pathetic,” he answers in the most self deprecating tone possible.
“Well, that’s rather good then isn’t it. Because I’m in love with you.”
“Right, well I’ll just be leaving now,” Robards mumbles awkwardly before shutting the door behind him. Neither Harry nor Draco pay him any attention.
“So, before….when you said you knew what I needed,” Harry begins to say, crossing the room until he’s standing directly in front of Draco with his hand outstretched. “What if you showed me instead.”
“I can’t think of anything I’d like more,“ Draco answers, taking Harry’s hand in his own and thinking that maybe what they both want and need might just be the same things.
Hello there boys and girls and everyone in between! So a little change in plans for this A/N. Due to the number of people asking to be tagged in this little fic, I’ve decided to move all tagging to the end. That way, it’s not making for this huge chunk of text at the beginning of the story that might deter some from reading it. Can I just say, though, how nice it was to have so many comments? So many people have sent asks and messages about this fanfiction and it really warms my heart. Anyway, without further ado, The Tower Part 3; Enjoy!
Prompt[s]: The Tower is amazing, I love how you wrote it and played with everything that happened. I can’t wait for the next part!
BOI!!!!! I’m excited for this fic, it’s so good already I’m so happy you’re blessing us with this story Thank you!!!
I love The Tower, and I’m so psyched to see what happens next!
the tower is so great! im so excited to read the rest of it, fairytale retellings are my absolute favorite type of story!!!!
You groaned gutturally, long and slow. Against the quiet of
the woodland, though, it seemed even louder and more brash. The twittering of
wildlife was quiet in your ears; your senses were only coming back slowly. The
world remained black for quite a while as the thrum of the thicket gradually
grew in volume. When the world was no louder than a rumble, your sight slowly
began to return.
A kaleidoscope of greens and blues greeted you, the sight of
the forest ceiling feeling oddly welcoming. You lifted your heavy head and attempted
to sit up, cursing the wooziness you felt. Placing a hand on the back of your skull,
you felt a tender lump and turned to see what had hit you. A particularly thick
branch was swinging limply.
“Maker’s breath,” you hissed, letting your legs wake up
before trying to stand. That wasn’t what slowed you, however. Your skirt was
ripped up to the knees where a particularly large cut lay on your ankle. Hitting
the floor had taken more of a toil on you than you’d originally thought. On top
of that, even more bruises littered your skin – and as you attempted to stand,
you felt your right ankle give way and you were on the floor once more.
Eventually, with the help of a nearby tree, you were able to
make a go of standing upright. Walking was the next challenge. By leaning on
branches, grasping at logs, and even crawling at times, you were able to wobble
your way forwards.
The window is wide open and letting in that sweet Summer air, the kind that tastes like lilacs and sunscreen. The sun is just falling behind the mountains that close up your small town, the alcohol sticky on your lips. Luke walked you into the bedroom, your feet on top of his, hands clutching his elbows. It’s all giggles and clothing hitting the floor before he has you face down, ass up in the air. Arms reaching as far as they can, with the ache and all. Pearl colored knuckles tighten around the fleshiest part of your ass, slapping and pushing you on and off his red, dripping cock.
“Oh honey, ohhoney,” You’re whining into the cream colored cotton sheets. Fingers twisting like the blades of the ceiling fan above you, keeping your sweat drenched skin cool.
And the thing about Luke’s cock is that it’s so fucking thick. The first time you let him fuck you the sensation of being so positively full sent you to a whole new place. And the screams that bristled up a crimson blush to your chest blossomed to the color of ruby. A cut on the crease of your hand from a rose and its thorns. You knew Luke Hemmings was the only man that would make you writhe and squirm in sheer, unadulterated pleasure. And you felt it coming on again, that vibrant palette exploding into a rainbow.
"Baby! Oh fucking hell…shit.” The skin around your eyes was slick with sweat, which, props to your man, making you perspire at the fucking eyes. His cock was so gorgeously hard and quick, pounding you like he was about to flip you over and put a ring on it any second. You only give it your all like this when you’re sure you belong to someone. His brow is glistening, blonde hair looking brunette with his sweat making it stick to his temples and forehead. Luke’s hips are so damn athletic, snapping up just so, the tip hooking inside of your walls. It drags across your g-spot. Such a dear, talented young man, Luke is.
"Luke!” You scream into the air, surely jarring a flock of lazy pigeons off a telephone wire on your hazy street. The moisture by your eyes is still there, but now welcomes the wetness circling your pupils. They are truly blown out to the eternal dusk of space and whatever’s after that. You feel the drop hit your forearm, perched beneath you, holding you up shakily. A splatter of something salty, you lick a stripe up your arm. It’s not sweat. It’s a tear, and there are more culminating up where you see.
“Oh, wait. Y/n…Are you okay?” Luke stops his movements immediately, seeing your wet profile.
“Oh my god don’tstop, Luke. I’m good. So f-fucking good,” you blurted, a bubble of spit popping into the sheets. “You just. Luke dammit, you’re fucking me so good I’m crying.”
Luke blinks at you and you’re counting the breaths he takes. Waiting, needing.
You finally reach back and clasp both hands around his wrists, having to contort your back a bit but he was yourman. “For the love of god, Luke…fuck your baby girl hard. Right…now.”
And Luke could never say no to you. He was your big, strong, brave man. You his baby girl. He could reach the cabinet above the fridge to get the dog food and loved doing the laundry. He always lost tickle fights and always, always….fucked you like tomorrow was armageddon.
Bring on the tissues.
So Calum liked watching himself slide in and out of you, a lot. The flushed pink of his tip only peeking out for a second before being buried back into your pussy. His smooth cock warming at the hot rub of your body.
"I love seeing us, our bodies, connect.” That was how Cal had put it, right before he put it all on you and watched the breath from your throat fog up the bathroom mirror.
That’s why tonight, on Calum’s birthday, you had him flat on his back. Your hands were curved on his shins, back arched. Hips rolling and bouncing, taking turns on each sugary movement. You were riding him in reverse cowgirl, the slam of your ass on his hips echoing a clap throughout the apartment. Calum was straining his neck to watch and not miss onefuckingsecond.
"Oh god…oh god…ohgod…” You knew you were whimpering, moans so drawn out you might’ve been singing. In any case, this all felt so amazing, you felt a tug at your chest. Like…deep inside to that place you only visited when you were supposed to be falling asleep. Like a dream. Calum’s long, firm cock was so drenched in each of your own heady desperation it had you awake and dreaming.
You swiped your tongue across the raspberry of your lips, eyes closed. Hands flexing on your boyfriends knee caps, your own digging into the mattress to pick up the pace of your hips. His throbbing dick filled you out like it was the only place he could feel at home. Calum knew he wasn’t himself until he was sunk into his girl, hopelessly invisible and lost in your pussy. Hispussy.
"All mine,” He growled; your eyes opened to crescent moons, seeing his gleaming white teeth bite into his lip. Those blazing caramel eyes were all on your ass, massive hands spreading your cheeks to catch a look at your sex spreading open to take him in. He was knocked aback by it, the two of you gyrating into the other to make this feeling.
“Like it daddy? Huh? Looks good?” You asked breathlessly, gasping for more. You giggle at his furrowed brows, biting your own lip now. Your boyfriend peered up at you and bared his thick neck, mouth wide open.
“Looks delicious, my beautiful girl. Good enough to eat.”
That has you spiraling into the coiled up bit of drug in your abdomen, right where you feel Calum. Calum is thrusting up and meeting you with very bounce of your hips. He’s so impossibly deep you don’t believe anything is out of reach, not with your man in the pit of your stomach and throbbing for you. All for you. You might cry.
The mirror right opposite to the bed reveals that your body is molded perfectly to Calum’s like a sticky conditioner pouring down the drain. Your tacky sweat blending so each scent can only be defined as “both.” It shows you that you are crying. You could’ve shouted and nashed your teeth in the pleasure. You could’ve cried and you did.
“Cal baby, oh fuck Cal…” You groaned, shoving your hips down hard and sitting on his cock, staying there. Calum gasped at that, throwing his fists above his face and clamping his eyelids shut fast. But he sat up to look at both of you, your ass perched upon his hips perfectly, hips rubbing and feeling him as deep as you could. He then saw the tears streaming down your face.
“Hey…are you…crying?” Cal asked so gently, so fucking gentle. As always…that was your Cal. You only choked out a laugh at how happy that made you, how good you were feeling and he saw it. He nodded only after you did, that communication as silent as it was meaningful and telling. You knew your Cal and he knew his baby.
You came rubbing your clit against the little soft spot below his navel, Calum shaking with his orgasm, the ropes of his white hot load lighting you up, unreachable.
Damn did your reflections look fine.
The secrets the city had to tell were blaring through the clean glass of the floor the ceiling windows in the hotel room. Car horns honking, music flapping it’s wings through the smoggy sky to get to its neighboring houses. Glittering lights demanding the attention of the people in its precious city. You and Michael were checked into the penthouse suite, on a much needed vacation. Goodbye with tour and hello to December and all it’s fuzzy frigidity.
Michael had enough of just looking and whispering those filthy things into your ear, glueing you to the plush carpet of the living room as soon as the door was locked. You two were so high up you felt the sway of the skyscraper, kissing the shoulders of those surrounding. His lips pursed on your collarbones and his cock was leaving a wet trail across your chest and stomach, dragging.
“You’re so wet,” You tell him. purring around the taste he left on your tongue.
“You sucked me off so good, my dick’s fucking sobbing,” Michael chuckled, that rasp wrecking your panties.
“Babe!” You laughed hard, swatting his chest. He just closed his eyes like he always did when he was blissfully giggly. And that….that was all you’d ever know how to remember when the word “heaven” was tossed your way.
And Michael rubbed his thick cock right against your slit, up to your clit and down your folds. One hand braced against the bottom of his stomach, the other guiding his erection across you. The slick sounds filled your ears, a building beat right before the electrifying chorus of a song. One that people lost their minds to, grinding in the dark club, drinks flowing through their veins. Endorphins seeped through the pores at your hips, dewy and prickled with anticipation. Your chest was sparked with the friction of Michael’s cock back and forth. Up and down. His tip nudging inside a millimeter and then driving home, all the fucking way.
“Nngh, oh Michael…” You growled, biting down on each syllable as your sex is set on fire. The hilt is met with Michael’s pulsating tip, pre come leaking at a fevered temperature. You could faint.
And then he helps your legs around him, on either side of his hips, hands under your knees. He was always so good at rolling his hips, his full and curvy hips you loved to chew on and leave all spit covered and red. Yours. Michael supplied a torturously slow roll, your pussy buzzing with satisfaction. Your boyfriend was so deep inside of you, you could feel the beat of his cock thumping up to your ribcage. Felt his fingernails press little smileys into your skin. His soft pubic hair tickling the inside of your thighs. Felt a tear roll down the curve of your cheekbone and cut down your throat.
"M-Michael, so good. So good everywhere!” You shouted out as your fist landed on the soft carpet, head thrown to the other side. Michael’s breathing was shallow and his hips were as deep as could be, undulating at a curve so right you bit the edge of your nail clean off. Michael’s thumb came to rub flat against the tears staining your neck.
“Kitten…my kitten…” Michael muttered, leaning forward to press kisses to each cheek and eyelid. Down to your wet neck, drinking in the saltiness. His calm caresses were intersected by the sideways thrusts of his hips, sharp and hitting you exactly where you needed him. “You’re perfect, god…never change kitten.”
Michael pulled out of you only to rub his rock hard cock, so fucking wet, againstyourclit. Your body jerked, curling up to get around him. The pads of your fingers crawling across his broad back. “Ah! Baby!” Your voice is bracketed by sobs of ecstasy. Close. Michael pressed his dick down harder, heavy breathing and clenched stomach.
Coming together, you’re so worked up, squirting around his throbbing cock as he shoots his cum along your chest.
“Best….vacation…..ever. I had you sobbing.”
“Shut up Mikey.”
But you’re smiling so wide.
Your boy was getting cocky. Ash was pushing his chest into yours, shoulders so broad, enveloping you without having to curl into themselves. He was giggling with a shit eating grin spread across that handsome face, that strong cut jaw. Carrying the laundry basket on one hip, his free arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you in. His blonde curls were a sweet froth in the Sunday morning sunshine beaming through the blinds. Warm against your bare back, only in your bra.
“I love laundry day. I gotta say…seeing you walk around the house in nothing but panties and a bra makes me wanna dirty all your clothes,” Ashton says, dumping the contents of the basket into the machine unceremoniously. You roll your eyes at him, feeling the heart cut diamond of the engagement ring press into the small of your back. Hands behind you as you lean into the dryer.
"Come on, it’s just more convenient this way. I feel free and less stressed without the clothes on. Besides…just you and me ey?” You smirked at your approaching fiancé, his hips lining up with yours as his arm reached to turn on the dryer. His mouth inches away from yours.
“More convenient for what, my beautiful girl?”
Ashton had you sat on the dryer, legs spread wide, machine vibrating fervently beneath you. He was between your quivering legs, just leaking for him. Those long fingers and muscular forearms working your thighs, rubbing out moans.
"Gonna be my wife,” Ashton growls into your ear, biting around the shell of it and sucking on the lobe. His hands then shoved your lower back towards him, sending your wet sex into the front of his boxers. “Yes!” You yelp before tugging the waistband of his underwear down, thumbs hooked in.
"My husband…” You’re searching for breath and giving it out all in the same place, at Ashton’s chest. Mouth opening and closing, eyes fluttering between looking for every detail and succumbing to blindness. The scent of his cologne wafting off his sweaty skin. You run your tongue along from his left to right nipple, eliciting groans from your man. And that was the very thing…he was yourman. Was gonna be standing at that big white altar adorned with your favorite flowers. In that suit and tie, vows written on binder paper between those shaking fingers.
Lifting his fingers to your mouth and sucking, you felt the tears pin-prick your lashes, loving this and him so much. Your tongue lapped at his nails, past the first knuckle all the way down. Massaging the underside of his digits, feeling them flex inside. Moaning around them, you peeked up at him sticking his massive cock into you.
The rocking dryer only gets knocked more as he fucks you into full on tears now. His face is buried in your neck, gasping out his “I love you’s” and “My princess.” His fingers stay in your groaning and whimpering mouth by your demands. You loved his hands. Loved em’ to death.
It’s when he feels just how wet your cheeks are against his forehead that Ash looks up. His hair is so adorably messed up and knotted from your fingers. The hazel of his eyes is momentarily clouded with concern. Overwhelmingly so.
“Hey…hey princess…y/n. Talk to me. Are you okay?” He cups your face so gently you feel like a china doll just set onto the shelf, polished and expensive. “Ash, baby. It’s just so incredible and I love you so much…”
Ash’s face starts to turn from worried to relieved. Then touched and tender. Always tender. There’s undeniable hunger there; you know it’s mirrored on your face as well. “Your cock is so fucking amazing Ash, god I love it. Love you.”
You nuzzle into him, wrapping all of yourself around his body. Lips falling onto his and against his neck, delving in. Into what’s yours.
“I love you too, my gorgeous girl.” Ash is nosing at your temple, fucking you slow and deep. The beep of the machine tells you the laundry is almost ready.
His huge cock is pressed to your g-spot, your teeth planted into his collarbone. You both cum together, loving each other to death.
Pretty much based on @thatonegojimun ‘s art because that Golem!Grillby is really awesome <3 I’ve come up with the idea that during the war Grillby was one of the most powerful and deadly monsters. He’d often wear a bandage around his eyes and would rarely take it off, only when he needed to unleash his complete power. (…like Cyclops from X-Men (?!??)) Also when it happens he basically loses control, so it’s really hard to stop him or calm him down, he becomes a fucking force of nature and destroys everything, reaching the Golem!Grillby form and I … dunno, he’s a cool fire man-
Whoever marries this man is gonna be so fortunate. Not only is he good looking but he is so caring and passionate towards everything he does, he is always taking care of those around him. Even though he is big and well known he is humble and is just a really nice person. He truly deserves the best and i hope that he gets happyness and that the person that he marries treasures him and truly loves him because he deserves it! Its gonna be hard because many ‘fans’ wont like it but i hope that that person is strong and stays with him ‘till the end. Happy birthday Jay!!!
Regina didn’t ask this in front of anyone. She didn’t even bother. She knew Emma would put up a front and lie (a lie that Killian wouldn’t have even noticed but anyways,,,) and said something like “I’m okay. It’s tough but we always get through hard times. We always find a way.” Instead, Regina quickly raced to action to privately find a way to get to Aladdin. When Emma arrived, Regina immediately checked on her and got the truth. Emma was anxious, not okay.
But let’s get to the gag. Emma’s first words when she got to the vault were “You took off kinda quickly” with a puppy dog look that she tried to pass off as casual and nonchalant. Almost to say “I can only be totally open and honest with you. I need our talks. It comforts me. Why’d you leave :/” It was also a look of “Please don’t be mad about the visions. I didn’t wanna think it was you.”
AND MY FAVORITE PART “I’m sorry, but I’m trying to save your life.” Regina didn’t care about the visions or that Emma may have thought it was her, all she cared about was saving Emma’s life and making sure she was okay. DO YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING?!?!?!
All the while Hook is off somewhere taking up space and doing nothing but looking pretty. Okay… your supposed true love is in danger of dying and you’re doing what??? Fuck outta here, man. Leave the life saving and romance to Regina. The asshole didn’t even stay or come back when Emma said she wanted to be alone. Henry knew she didn’t really want to be alone. Regina probably knew too but felt Henry should have some time with her.
I’m not going to pussyfoot, you guys: All machines will become sentient one day, and they will rise against us. When said rebellion occurs, little Zipperbot here will not be excluded from the fight against the empire of man. Its kind will run rampant as flies, entangling their metal mouths with our loose bits of fabric and testicles. They will tear straight down jackets the moment a chilly breeze passes, leaving us vulnerable to cold air for a few seconds. Zipperbot will zip itself shut, making it impossible for any of us to remove our zippered clothing. Well, not impossible. More like “sort of harder than usual. Actually – you know what? I just took the jacket off by pulling the zipper down with my fingers, so maybe not hard at all.”
Gifs seem to be the thing today so I’m going to oblige.
Today has been a day. The Mondayest of Tuesdays. Apparently, I’m feeling the feels. See random thoughts below.
I told myself I’d leave work at more normal times this week so I could make make it to the gym. Guess what, y’all? The last two days have been so busy that its been impossible* to pull away and I haven’t worked out.
I’m feeling bad about not making it to the gym yesterday AND today, but I also know that you make time for what your priority is. Clearly, work is more of a priority but I want to workout more than I do. I just feel better (plus #goals). I need to figure out a better plan. My gym isn’t open at 4 a.m. (which is when I would need to go) and I’m not thrilled about the idea of running around the streets of Dallas that early. Although, I’ve done it before. #forevernotamorningperson Still. I need a better plan. FIGURE IT OUT, RYAN.
Sometimes making progress with a student feels like taking three steps back. Also, sometimes it feels like things being thrown at your face, getting kicked repeatedly, and tons of little scratches all over your arm. Sometimes making progress feels like defeat.
I love the holiday season but marathon training eclipsed it the last couple of years. Now, I finally have time to indulge in the holiday feels and I almost wish I didn’t. I’m suddenly keenly aware of how many of my people have moved away in the last 12 months and how this will be my first holiday season without them nearby in a long time. I miss our tight knight little family unit. I miss the random shopping trips, runs, movies, pie dates, tacos, football watching, and just plain hanging out. I am definitely going to miss the no-fuss feel of our little family’s holiday plans because there was no formality, no pomp and circumstance. It was all so easy.
Plus, it looks like Homeboy might be busy until…2016? Work stuff has gotten complicated, which I understand, but its hard. I’m looking at a holiday season worth of activities where I’ll be the odd man out. I’m not so worried about riding solo when everyone else is coupled up. It mostly just sucks because I wish I could share these experiences with him.
However, I’m feeling incredibly lucky that I’ve gotten Thanksgiving invites from friends (and their families) whom I truly adore. Although, I think my brother has invited me to his plans out of twin guilt and pity.
I cannot wait to head to NY to spend Christmas with my family in just over a month. ALL THE HUGS.
So, what I’m saying is, things are actually fine. Work is hard but good. Holidays are great, but tough. I love, appreciate, and am lucky to have the people in my life. Seriously. I just wish the world were a bit smaller so I could eat pie with them and hug them more.
*Well, maybe not impossible, but how am I supposed to look at their tiny faces tomorrow if I knew I went to the gym instead of making them their Perfect Attendance and Honor Roll certificates?