Blue Collar!simon Who Every Time You Pass A Building He’s Worked On He’ll Tell You About It.

Did somebody ask for more??? Too bad cause you’re getting it.

Roommate!Simon Riley who loves to find you sprawled out on the couch like an octopus when he gets home from work. You’re always laid out in some odd way, a way that certainly cannot be comfortable. The blanket you’d been snuggled up with was now tangled haphazardly around your legs, and your arms were dangling off the side, head dangerously close to tipping off with them.

He likes to think you were waiting on him. That it’s the reason why you left the warm lamp on by your head, why there’s a familiar movie playing in the background. Your dinner is untouched on the end table beside you, his is neatly placed on the kitchen counter. His favorite drink is left unopened, a cup of melted ice right next to it, your bottle is nothing but a few drops of water.

Gently setting down his things, he pads as quietly as he can to where you’re laying. The tips of his fingers ghost along your spine before he gives your back a gentle squeeze, moving to the kitchen to grab his plate of food. He puts your food in a plastic container as he waits on supper to warm up, making sure to trade out your empty bottle of water for a fresh one. You’d wake up thirsty, you always did.

The microwave beeps a fraction too loudly once it’s finished. and he finds himself cursing at it, wincing when it squeaks as he opens the door. You twitch in response, adjusting your head just to squish flushed cheeks even further into the cushion.

When he comes back to the couch, he’s careful moving your feet, placing them one by one onto his thighs. He’ll give ‘em a quick little rub, patting the sides of your toes before scarfing down his dinner. He leaves the movie playing while he eats, just because he didn’t wanna wake you up, not because he likes it. Because he doesn’t.

Subconsciously, he finds his fingers tucking the blanket back around your body, and instead of tugging them away, he rests his hand on one of your calves, setting his empty plate on the coffee table.

With one hand on your leg, and the other wrapped around his stomach, he scoots down, letting his head rest on the back of the couch. He’d close his eyes. Just for a minute.

A minute turned into the end credits blasting through the TV speakers, jerking the both of you awake. He notices the way your eyelashes flutter, sleep leaving you dazed and confused. You don’t question him being there, instead just reach for his hand, fingers tangling around his thumb.

“‘m thirsty.”

Of course you were. He shakes his finger, jostling you to open your eyes again. “On the table.”

There, waiting for you, was a fresh bottle of water. You don’t question that either. “thanks,” He just grunts in response, settling back down beside you.

You keep your grip tight on his hand, flicking off the lamp after chugging your drink. He turns on another movie, for you, of course. Definitely not for him.

As sleep tugs him under once more, his side droops down toward your body until he’s resting an arm against your back, and his head against his arm. Large legs stretch out as far as they’ll go, his other hand moving to lay over your feet.

Now you’re tangled together. Two octopuses sprawled out on a small piece of furniture.

And what’s that they say about octopuses? They’ve got three hearts?

Well he was sure that was him right now. Three hearts all beating solely for you. They always would.

Guys, this is the end of my drafts. WHAT DO I DO?? Is this stupid? Too silly? Was it only cute and domestic in my own brain??

simon’s first instinct was always to protect you—before himself, before anyone or anything else. whether in dangerous situations or small, everyday moments, his reflexes kicked in without hesitation. every action was a subtle yet undeniable promise: i’ll always keep you safe.

sidewalk rule? it was non-negotiable. he always made sure he was between you and the street, shielding you from traffic. if you drifted too close to the curb, his hand would find the small of your back, guiding you firmly to his side.

“stay here,” he would murmur, his tone gentle yet resolute, as if daring the world to try anything.

whenever the car came to a sudden halt, simon’s arm instinctively shot out in front of you, bracing against your chest. the seatbelt should’ve been enough, but he never trusted anything more than his own reflexes.

“you alright?” he’d ask, his hand lingering just a little longer, scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

in a crowded space, simon always led the way, carving a path with his broad frame. his hand would stay on yours or at your back, making sure you stayed close. and on a full train, he caged you in without hesitation, using his size to shield you from the press of strangers. his arms rested casually against the poles, but his stance was clear—no one would get too close.

whether you were climbing into the car or walking through a door, simon’s hand would always reach out to guide your head, ensuring you didn’t bump it. in the kitchen, he’d gently tilt your head away from open cabinets, all without thinking. it was pure instinct—small actions that spoke louder than words.

one night at 3 a.m., a car backfired down the street, the sound tearing through the stillness. before you could even react, simon had you pinned beneath him, his body shielding yours entirely. his heart raced, convinced it was a bomb. even after realizing it wasn’t, he didn’t let go, whispering against your ear, “i’ve got you, lovie.”

you could wear whatever you wanted—simon never cared. he wasn’t possessive, but confident. no one would dare glance too long in your direction, not with him at your side. and if anyone was foolish enough to try, one sharp look from simon was enough to make them think twice.

with simon, protection wasn’t just instinct—it was devotion. in every gesture, every glance, every step, he ensured you knew: your safety will always come first. because to simon, loving you meant keeping you safe—always, no matter the cost.

all about mobility

what is mobility & how is it different from flexibility?

mobility is the ability of the joints to move through their full range of motion, while flexibility is the ability of the muscles to temporarily stretch.

why do mobility training?

there are many different benefits of mobility training, including:

increased flexibility

reduced risk of injury

improving joint & muscle health

improving range of motion

improving posture

gaining muscle strength

balance & stability

reducing pain & stiffness in the body

when should i start?

now! there’s a common misconception that you shouldn’t need mobility training until you are in your later years and your mobility starts to decline, but mobility training is useful no matter your age. in fact, the sooner you start, the less mobility & joint problems you will experience as you age.

how often should i train mobility?

mobility training is safe and beneficial to do daily, but ideally, you should try to train mobility at least 5 times per week for at least 5-10 minutes each time.

routines:

10 minute mobility workout by growingannanas

10 minute mobility for neglected joints by julia.reppel

15 minute daily mobility routine by julia.reppel

15 minute mobility stretch by growingannanas

20 minute slow mobility & stretch by julia.reppel

20 minute full body mobility warm up by leanbeefpatty

20 minute spinal mobility by julia.reppel

20 minute mobility workout by julia.reppel

20 minute rest day mobility flow by julia.reppel

20 minute pilates x mobility by julia.reppel

20 minute full body mobility by julia.reppel

25 minute full body stretch & mobility by madfit

25 minute mobility workout by julia.reppel

25 minute yoga for mobility by jess yoga

25 minute rest day mobility by julia.reppel

25 minute low impact mobility workout by julia.reppel

25 minute mobility workout by marie steffen

30 minute full body primal mobility by julia.reppel

30 minute primal mobility workout by julia.reppel

30 minute mobility yoga for athletes by charlie follows

30 minute beginner-friendly mobility flow by julia.reppel

30 minute mobility workout by fitness__kaykay

30 minute active recovery workout by heather robertson

30 minute core strength & shoulder mobility by heather robertson

35 minute yoga fusion workout by heather robertson

40 minute mobility & dynamic stretching by heather robertson

40 minute abs & hip mobility by heather robertson

40 minute core strength & back mobility by heather robertson

40 minute core strength & mobility by heather robertson

40 minute core & shoulder mobility by heather robertson

40 minute abs & mobility by heather robertson

44 minute core & full body mobility by heather robertson

they need to invent somewhere where I belong

im still losing it over the "how did high schoolers write 600 word essays before chatgpt" post. 600 words. that is nothing. that is so few words what do you mean you can't write 600 words. 600 words. this post right here is 45 words.

girl something good has to happen at some point

butcher simon this, butcher simon that, but how about simon who shows up to the dog shelter every month with a couple hefty bags of high-end dog food and a baggy of toys because he’d rather his retirement paychecks go toward something more meaningful than bourbon and cigarettes.

or simon who sits in the kennels with the most misunderstood dogs at the shelter for as long as it takes for them to warm up to him, though it never takes long—there’s just something about him that draws the sweet angels in.

Please I’m literally at work and this thought would NOT go away

Roommate!Simon Riley who sits in the bathroom while you’re in the shower.

The first time it happened he’d been so lost in his head he hadn’t even noticed the water was running. It was after work, late at night. When he walked in and heard your shriek, he was quick to cover his eyes, despite the shower curtain, fumbling for the door while a constant stream of apologies fell from his lips.

“Simon! Is that you?” Your voice was shaky, and he realized, just by the simple sound of your tone, that you weren’t screaming because he’d walked in, you simply just hadn’t known he was home.

“Yeah love, ‘m sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.” His fingers nervously fiddled with the door handle, squeaking hinges reminding him to take his weight off of the old wood.

“No it’s okay, you just scared me is all.” You peeked your head out of the shower, dripping loose droplets of water all over the rug. “You can stay in here ya know. I wouldn’t mind the company.” Didn’t have to tell him twice. He was sat.

He listened to you ramble as he cleaned his bloody knuckles, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo with every breath. He found comfort in it, even found himself longing for the lingering smell of your hair when he was away. That’d never happened to him before, not since you came along.

He liked how the smells weren’t harsh, they were just you.

“Hey Riley! Hand me my towel please?” He turned his gaze from the crimson sink to face you, quirking a smile when he saw the way you clenched your eyes shut, soap suds dripping down your forehead. “Got soap in my eyes.”

An amused huff came from his nose. “I can tell.” Instead of handing it to you, he grabbed your jaw with one hand, bandaged fingers careful as they wiped from the corner of your eyes to the outer part and back again. It wasn’t necessary of course, but you didn’t need to get a perfectly clean towel soaking wet before you needed it. That would be silly.

“Thanks,” You couldn’t help how breathless you sounded, eyelashes fluttering open to see his stern ones focused on making sure the rest of your face was dry.

“Welcome,” It was gruff and short, but he meant it, truly.

After that, it didn’t necessarily become routine, but if you got home from work, and he was there, it was bound to happen. You just had so many things to tell him. Stories of rude coworkers- about how they tried to steal the cookies he’d bought you, but how you were determined to eat every single one of them.

He’d follow you around like a lost puppy, finding solace on the toilet seat when you finally managed to get your ass in the shower. He made fun of you once for how distracted you got, and after seeing the fake pout on your lips he couldn’t stop. Picking on you was his favorite past time after all.

He loves how you sing softly, and he queues away the songs your the loudest to in his head, storing them away to discreetly surprise you with later. The sound of your voice just soothes him, even if it’s not always on key.

Sometimes he’ll even tell you about his day too. It’s not often, but when it happens, you remind yourself to stay dead silent. He was like a baby deer, one wrong move and you’d lose him.

When he inevitably goes quiet mid conversation, you always urge him to continue. “C’mon Riley, I’m listenin’” He melts right then and there every time.

The towel is always in his hands once he hears the shower turn off, ready for you to grab whenever you’re ready. You always insist on doing the rest of your routine behind the safety of the curtain.

“I don’t mind leaving love,”

Another peek of your head and another puddle of water.“Simon Riley, finish telling me your story or I’ll murder you.” It was a pretty convincing argument. He’d obviously listen so he didn’t die. Not because the cute little angry crease between your brows drove him crazy or the way your eyes were stormy with determination made him feel a little horny.

It was always the small things with you.

“Alright you sassy lass, I’ll talk.” And so he’d finish his story, handing you whatever products you asked for every now and then before you reached your hand out for fresh clothes.

As he turned around to get them he’d hear a loud slam, the sound of bottles clattering and your quiet hiss making him alert. Before he could even say anything though, you’d counteract his concern.

“I’m fine. Just slipped on my fucking conditioner.” And oh if he didn’t belly laugh.

Now, sometimes, you’d follow him to the bathroom, and he’d let you. Those these were the moments where he wouldn’t get a second to speak. Because you’d talk, and talk, and talk some more, and he’d eat it all up like it was his last meal.

He’d go to bed thinking about the sound of your voice, bottle it up and take it with him when he had to be away for to long. Because a minute without the sweet sound of your presence was a minute to damn long.

i asked someone to do this for me once and they looked at me like i was crazy and said no :( (is this only cute in my head???????)

ai is making people way too comfortable with being incompetent stupid and useless… go learn some skills