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祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Not today Justin
Xuebing Du

@theartofmadeline

Origami Around
Sweet Seals For You, Always

tannertan36
todays bird

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AnasAbdin

★
d e v o n
Claire Keane

⁂
RMH
Misplaced Lens Cap
🪼
DEAR READER
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@ossifiied-archivedd
00. CHARLOTTE DONAHUE. b. december 1961 // younger sister to robin.
me: I’m highly selective with who I ship my muse with also me:
uH like this for a random ass starter i’ll do after i finish commission work !
iiiii am tempted to write charlotte on here finally
this is like robin teaching this class sdkjhgskdfh
WINEBLEEDS.
illusion plays to his advantage. five foot five is still taller than five foot two. tall prey, even weaker, helps the smaller one pretending to be a predator (or a fox among the wolves). but audio outweigh the visuals, for her. entertaining, his nerves, in a split second ; he describes cardio while asking about it. though, she formulates plans on how to shut him up when words attract the predators (don’t waste your breath : that’s how to survive life). for now, there’s only an eye roll.
‘ i will. ’ she follows him to the treadmills, allowing him that choice. she slides between his treadmill & the empty one. an elbow rests on its arm to claim it. ‘ here. ’ she leans on the tips of her toes, stretching her arm across the screen. her pointer finger. ‘ press manual. then set for ten minutes & three miles per hour. ’ she glances up at him as she retreats her arm. ‘ walking speed. ’
the act as instructor cuts when her feet reach the ground. her forearm on the other treadmill trails off as she turns against him. she steps until she hops onto the base. the same steps faces her at the screen. feet spread between the still belt, & on the balls of her feet in preparation to return for its movement. but first, her finger presses more buttons than manual. head angles to him, as though strike a different conversation (like her name). instead, she insures, ‘ i’ll stay at your pace. ’ nothing personal.
completely intrigued, robin lets her take control of the situation without even putting up a fight. he makes no effort to prove himself ( a statement of masculinity seems to be the last thing on his mind ) and instead seems more than happy to be the trainee. it doesn’t bar him from looking rather clueless, lips drawn tight and dark eyes wide. he’s a peculiar looking guy - he’s got a few good looks, but no idea how to use them. the expressions that commandeer his features are a little less than harmonious.
❛❛ —i was almost positive y’ were s’posed t’ run on t’ese things, ❜❜ he murmurs to himself, disclosed to the fact he is still technically a beginner to all of this. while the band of black below his feet starts to move, robin walks along it with ease, hands reaching out to rest on the grips without really knowing why he’s doing so.
after a second, he examines the board of buttons and lights, leaning forward slightly ( he’s forgotten his glasses again ) and attempts to decipher what it all means. it’s a bit of a hopeless effort, so the subject moves on with the consistency of porridge. ❛❛ uhh... so, are y’ actually loike an instructor here, or someone who’s just taken pity on a poor dublin soul, eh ? ❜❜
goin to nurse my horrid headache and see if i can even muster the energy to do smth productive on here or @brayborn bc i have so many threads i am loving atm but im just. incapacitated w this fuckin migraine BS
WINEBLEEDS.
his breakdown shifts the gear. his impression drives her into a different road. she speeds as his pride slows to a halt. shoulder roll back, making her taller than she appears to be. a warning that she snatches his plea to her advantage. after all, she would thrive on the cocky ones wondering how she picks this guy to stay by her side. but, also, his comment of his sister’s output parallels her own suggestions towards her brother (and sisters are always right). he may or may not be lucky she’s off work today.
‘ fine. ’ she answers with a twist of a smile. she forgoes eye contact to scan the gym, figuring the equipment she knows best. despite appearance, she avoids many of the machines sought by more muscles than hers. but she observes the instructors (especially the one with the fuller butts) enough to imitate their advice.
‘ first off, ’ eyes shot back to him, smoothing out emotions for her work voice. still keeping arms crossed, her finger rests on her forearm as it points towards the treadmills. a personal favorite of hers, like many of various sizes huddle as a default machine. ‘ done any cardio? ’
by the evolution of her position, he’s almost certain he’s face to face with some sort of wildcat. she’s got that build that only hunters have, the stance that’s always ready to pounce. if he’s lucky, she’ll refuse him and he can skedaddle out of this place and make up an excuse for charlotte ( he hates lying to her, but at this stage, he’d rather be dead than be found in the gym. )
but to his surprise, the blonde agrees and he’s caught by consternation , a sort of ajar expression on his face as she gestures to the treadmills.
❛❛ — cardio... y’ sey that like i’ll know what it means, ❜❜ he answers daftly, dark brow knitting with helpless doubt. ❛❛ i’ve not run on one of those t’ings before, if that’s what you’re tryin’ to ask. shouldn’t be too hard, eh ? just run like a doggie on his midday walk... ❜❜ he’s practically talking to himself - pep talk, as it were.
finally, he stands up, displaying his full height of barely 5′5 as he sizes up the treadmill nearest to him, eyeing the buttons like it’s the world’s most complex technology. ❛❛ — are yi gonna run alongsoide wit’ me or watch me humiliate myself ? eider way, i don’t really care. me name’s robin by te way, might be of use when you’re tellin’ me i suck massive cock at t’is gym thing. ❜❜
uH like this for a random ass starter i’ll do after i finish commission work !
DIVINA.
while waiting for a response, divina finally takes the time to really look at what he’s sent her. the photo of the dog weirded her out. it seems more like a photo to share with his equally strange bandmate. then again, robin takes pleasure in sending her odd things to either evoke disgust or annoyance. it usually works. she scoffs audibly about his complaints over her hair. he does know he can stay elsewhere, right ?
sent to : donahue // why do you have to annoy me ? why can’t you pick on rory instead ?
it’s worth annoying her now but over actual audio, isn’t it ? without hesitation, he reads the message she sends, hardly computing it, then hits the call button, holding his cracked phone screen up to his ear. it takes a minute for her to answer, but the moment he hears the hint of feedback, he starts to talk erratically.
❛❛ — hi dee, yi wanted me to call ya, so here i am callin’ ya, how’s work, how’s stickin’ needles in people ? have any real nasty cases of cysts or anytin’ ? tell me all abou’ it, i’m all ears. ❜❜
DIVINA.
her phone has not stopped buzzing since she’s opened robin’s text. she has a feeling that it’s just a barrage of ridiculousness as usual so she doesn’t bother actually answering them. however, she is kind enough to read the messages, though read is a bit of an over exaggeration. she skims the block of texts, hardly registering what the photo is. after an hour or so of half - reading and not replying, divina finally says something back.
sent to: donahue // if you wanted to send this many, you can just call me.
@ossifiied // love ur bitch ass “gf”, robbo
SOMETIMES he wishes she would turn off her ‘read’ receipts but he knows she delights in the sensation of leaving anyone and everyone to realise she’s actively ignoring them. so he keeps sending her things – to annoy her. first it was a picture of a dog who looked like an actual man ( eyebrows and everything, it was disturbing and worth sending to at least five people in his contact list including his aunt ) and then it was a series of texts about her hair clogging the shower drain.
* SENT TO: dee // calling u doesn’t evoke the same emotion as sending u at least 20 texts. i have to annoy u
WINEBLEEDS.
it’s brave for him to invade her space. a newcomer, figuring a slight latecomer of the new years traffic. january weeds them out as she stamps egos under the ground. despite the muscles through the body, the heart (and dick) is weak. and she takes that to advantage among the muscle men within their atmosphere. even women stumble to her tease to rejection. it’s all a game for lessons to learn. why else would she wear a shirt displaying it : she is the legend to fear as new year resolutions die.
yet, this scrawny guy response in a way a brow raises with an acute head tilt. besides deciphering his accent, he complies with ease (maybe a hint of disinterest). a confidence here that the last person to speak to her lost upon her solid no. perhaps that person glances or is too busy strengthening pride through bench presses. but her focus is on this stranger, preparing an endurance test for him to run.
‘ depends, ’ she answers as arms cross between the arrows, ‘ for what? ’
❛❛ —well, ehm... genuine conversation, for one, ❜❜ he mutters quickly ( that answer is easy; there’s no one to talk to here, though searching for a socrative debate probably isn’t the purpose of a gym. ) dark eyes ascend from staring at the 20 lb weights sitting nearby on the floor mocking him. there’s sort of a desperation in his gaze, treating the situation as he does with anyone who doesn’t recognise him from the news - like an everyday passerby. ❛❛ i feel like i’m surrounded by human beefs... is this how it is normally ? ❜❜ he dares not stand up – his shortness will only contribute to the paired shame of his twig arms.
suddenly his face screws up and scrunches, his hands twitching. ❛❛ look, i’m only here ‘cos my sister told me it’d be good for new year’s resolutions, whatever t’at means. i dunno what any of t’is shite is for, ❜❜ he confesses, gesturing to the equipment – it’s practically alien technology. by this point he’s certain people are spectating, though it’s unclear whether it’s because of his defeated outburst or that he’s talking to a renowned gym legend of femme fatale.
❛❛ —so, if the ‘man’ will get me out of droppin’ dumbbells on meself, t’en by all means... i’d love t’ chat. ❜❜
01. THE STORY OF ROBIN DONAHUE - 2019 REBOOT.
* VERSE 05. // MODERN DAY. aka ❛❛ ROBINDONAFOOL ❜❜
at first i had him a little softer for a modern verse, then i remember memes exist nowadays, trashy men exist, social media, brexit, trump... the list of modern day peculiarities goes on. what sort of effect would these have on robin? for one, he would maintain his oddities and treat social media like an outlet for confusion and eccentric humour (think almost c/asey f/rey). he wouldn’t hesitate to speak his mind about politics and the fucked up state of the american nation and the dystopian novel we’re living out.
his combative behaviour and desire to upset would remain in the modern day but it would probably put him in the path of classic black & white judgement that we know so well in the tumblr world. while some would praise him for speaking out about basic human rights, others would condemn him for the possible assumption that he “romanticises” his self harm by discussing it publicly on the rare occasion, or the fact he’s critical... of everyone. is he problematic for causing disruptions during broadcasts just for a laugh? in summation, he’s confusing, unpredictable, and forever changing his opinions. for one to think that they can figure him out is a bold claim.
WINEBLEEDS.
the shirt is a joke. a gift from a friend close enough to know liz’s casanova escapades (and her confidence, though a stranger feels that a mile away). that’s why it drapes her upper half during this workout session ; on slower days, she forgoes athletic attire for any shirt. she selected it for the jade color that pairs the yoga pants, not the words.
yet, when departing from the treadmill, she feels eyes over her. quizzical looks exchange across another until she remembers the words etching her shirt. the reason of the joke : two arrows, one detailing north for the man, & the other pointing south for the legend. a smile almost exposes genuine surprise, but she’s smarter than raw emotions. lips tips into a sly grin, instead, formulating the perfect introduction. ‘ the legend’s off limits. ’
OPEN (inspo)
WHY’S HE AT THIS GYM AGAIN ? he’s thin as a twig, there really isn’t any need for displaying how shit he is at lifting weights with twelve billion jacked beasts of men playing his uninvited audience. as he sits there feeling maybe a tiny bit humiliated in his barely worn t-shirt and sweatpants ( avoiding the eyes of the few passing onlookers ) he mulls over his reasons for being there in the first place. there’s only one, really. charlotte had recommended it, so whatever a 12-year-old girl says is obviously to be taken 100% seriously. it was charlotte, how could he say no ?
what else was there to do for these guys here than show off and sweat buckets and maybe smell a little only to drown themselves with cologne in the locker room ? pick up girls, he supposes. or other guys. isn’t really his poison, but people-watching is a hobby of his alongside crying in the shower. robin’s unassuming dark gaze scans the place until a young woman passes him with a t-shirt he can’t help but stare at for a few seconds. it seems the staring doesn’t go unnoticed. damn.
❛❛ —fair enough, ❜❜ the irish rawny answers musically, ❛❛ so’s mine. but i’ve got t’ ask, is te ‘man’ off limits as well ? ❜❜
my OC robin donahue! had him for a little over a year now and he’s still going strong… love him to pieces ;____;