#but when i have the foresight to actually get myself in a place to get shit done

[beelzzzebub]

Storm clouds rolling in + Fleetwood Mac for optimal concentration and homework vibes

#i hate that i cant just do my work half the time #i need some sort of motivation and the right atmosphere #it's annoying number one #and it also really makes me doubt myself #and question things a lot #i get stuck in procrastination loops that not only keep me from getting work done but also affect my future mental and physical health #but when i have the foresight to actually get myself in a place to get shit done #it just feels so nice! #so yeah #ive been not being responsible for six hours straight but at least I'm getting to work now #the perfect vibe of slightly dark stormy atmosphere outside the window #combined with ambient local lighting and string lights and dead flower decor #thunder from outside the window temporarily overwhelming the tinny sound of slightly too quiet music emanating from weak laptop speakers #its nice is all im saying :))

[pepperonijem]

i. the gentle indifference of the world || all my love

"I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world." - The Stranger; Albert Camus

Summary: He's cool, smart, attractive... and completely out of your league. But that won't stop you from falling head over heels for him. Pairing: high school!bucky x f!reader Warnings: steve is a little ooc but just roll with it Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: yay!! welcome to the first chapter!

back to library || next chapter

If you had listened to the rational voice in your head when your dad broke the news to you, you wouldn’t be in this situation.

If you had started making a list of things to pack, if you had called either of your two best friends immediately after, if you decided to be sane for 12 minutes, you wouldn’t be in this situation.

However, hindsight is 20/20, but in terms of foresight? You shouldn’t be allowed near the driver’s seat of any vehicle. Because instead of making any of the simple rational decisions after your father mentioned the possibility of moving across the country, you chose to sit down at your desk and write a letter. Fountain pen in hand and a candle burning beside you, for 12 minutes you were a character in a Jane Austen novel. Probably Lydia Bennett of all people, but a Jane Austen character nonetheless.

And that letter was how you found yourself in this situation – mortified and surrounded by whispers and stares, but worst of all, the icy blue glare of James Bucky Barnes was fixed on the pretty pink card in your hands.

A simple “no thanks,” and that was it, but why did it feel like time stopped? One word was enough to crumble your fragile heart and you froze right in place. It wasn’t until you felt a pair of arms wrap around you that you began to breathe again, and blood rushed back into your brain enough for you to see Bucky turn the corner and disappear.

Once you finally felt your heartbeat return to normal, you looked around to see the empty classroom you were in and you let out a sigh.

“You ready to tell us what just happened?” one concerned voice asked. Wanda’s voice was always gentle, always cheerful, usually loud, but the softness in her tone this time tipped you over the edge and you felt the sting of fresh tears in your eyes. She knelt down to look you in the eye as your other friend, Steve, helped you to sit at a desk.

Another sigh and you finally began to explain. “My dad said we might be moving in a couple of weeks,” you started, feeling your heart sink at the looks of hurt on your friends’ faces. “So I guess part of me panicked and I decided to tell Bucky how I felt.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to let out a sigh. The ever wise, ever charming Steve, who could see the end of any problem. His sigh was not out of pity, but out of frustration. “You know you could’ve called us right? We could’ve talked this through, came up with a better way to do this.” You knew that Steve and Wanda would not have let you go through with the idea if you had called, but you appreciated the fact that he didn’t say that.

“I know,” you began to argue. “But I don’t know, part of me… hoped he would say yes.” You didn’t miss the way Steve and Wanda’s eyes went wide as you mumbled the end of your sentence. “At least anything but whatever the hell happened today.”

You knew Steve was holding himself back. In his head he runs through every scenario before he acts, actually somewhat calculating underneath his calm, charming exterior. He knew this was the most likely scenario, but he would never tell you that, so he lets out a sigh instead and turns his attention to the math equations written on the whiteboard. 

Wanda on the other hand was a reactor. Her heart was on her sleeve and her anger at seeing her best friend upset was clear in her furrowed eyebrows and shaky voice. “I just don’t get why you keep wasting your time on him,” she confessed. “He’s too dense for his own good and he’s not particularly nice either. He’s smart academically, but stupid in every other way. He’s really not worth it.”

Steve turned around, surprised at Wanda’s outburst. “Wanda,” he called out. “Aren’t you friends with him?”

Wanda scoffed in response. “What about it?” she answered back. “You guys are stupid too, but we’re still friends.” A beat of silence passed as the three of you stared at each other, unblinking, before laughter broke the stillness. It was moments like this that made you pause to appreciate the two people you called your best friends. Although life had its ups and downs, the downs never lasted long, not when you had two loving friends to pull you right back up.

You stood up, a renewed sense of pride and determination filling you up. “You’re right Wanda,” you exclaimed and she gave you a thumbs up in return. “Boys are stupid.” Steve and Wanda shared a look of surprise.

“Well that’s not–” Wanda began to protest.

“I’m not stupid,” Steve started a little too loudly and boldly. “I wouldn’t have turned you down.” 

He finished his sentence softly as he watched you walk out of the classroom door. Wanda placed a comforting arm around Steve’s shoulders. “I wouldn’t have turned you down either Steve,” she teased as Steve shoved her to the side playfully.

Despite your renewed sense of pride, the quietness of your study period left you too much time to think and you found yourself lost in a sense of nostalgia as you sat at a table in the library.

The first time you met Bucky was still painted clear as day in your mind. 

You were a freshman searching for solace amidst the chaos of high school on the first day and you had found yourself in the library. Until now, it was a place of peace for you, but especially so on that first day. 

Running your fingers along the aisles of books, you found one that you wanted to read. The Stranger, by Albert Camus, sitting right at the top shelf, pushed just a little too far back for you to be able to wiggle it out. You let out a sigh, and rolled up your sleeve, embarrassed that your next plan of attack was to climb the shelf to be able to reach the book. You braced yourself, shutting your eyes and taking a deep breath, when a baritone chuckle snapped you out of your thoughts. 

You had opened your eyes to see an arm  reaching past you to grab a book off the shelf– your book. In your head you cursed his long legs and arms, but as you met eyes with the boy, you felt your heart sink down to your toes and shoot right back up and suddenly you didn’t want to read a book that was so nihilist anymore. Meursault may not have found it, but love suddenly became something that mattered.

He waved the book in your direction and you had to force your attention to his words and away from his face. “Were you trying to get this?” he asked.

“Huh?” you blinked before looking down at the book you were no longer interested in. “Oh, yeah, I was but, I don’t know if I want to read it anymore.”

He hummed and nodded in response as he inspected the book. “The Stranger,” He read. “Is it good?” 

“Yeah, if you’re into stories about life having no meaning,” you explained, suddenly flustered at the way he seemed to take your words seriously.

“I see,” he replied. “Then do you think life has no meaning? It seemed like you wanted this book pretty badly.” The weight of his question startled you as you tried to stammer out a response but before you could get anything significant out, his watch beeped and he was already turning his back to you. “Thanks for the book recommendation,” he called back, waving the book in the air.

That day, James Barnes stole not only your book, but your affections. 

For the next four years of your life, you found yourself loving him from a distance. You’d see him in the hallways, in class, but you could never bring yourself to say anything to him and you resigned yourself to this distance. It was lonely, but it was safe, and that was good enough for you… until today.

Now, after breaking that distance, you wished you never did. It was easier to never know how he felt about you, to be in love with the memory you had of him rather than be crushed by reality. 

The final bell finally rang and you were more than ready to head home. Outside the quiet bubble of the library, the school was cheering, the drumline playing in the main hall and everyone shouting cheers to the football team, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to celebrate your senior homecoming game with the rest of the school. Instead you found Wanda and Steve and made your way home.

“Welcome home!” 

The sound of your father’s voice filled you with warmth as soon as he opened the door, the joy in his greeting briefly making you forget the events of the day. He wrapped you in a tight embrace, still smelling of spices from his day spent at the restaurant, and led you and your friends into the house. 

Once inside, your dad gave your friends a confused look. “Isn’t tonight your last homecoming game? Shouldn’t you be at the game?” He questioned as the three of you kicked off your shoes and set your backpacks down by the door.

Wanda looked over to you as she answered, “Nah,” she replied with an easy smile. “The real party is here.” Your dad let out a hearty laugh in response, which the three of you mirrored. 

“I had made way too much dinner for just the two of us, so it’s perfect that you guys are here,” your dad put his arms around Wanda and Steve who cheered in response.

“Well, once I found out you were making the world’s best lasagna, how could I not invite myself over?” Steve said. The way your dad beamed back at Steve made both you and Wanda chuckle. Steve was both an extremely talented artist as well as an extremely talented cook, and your dad absolutely adored him for it. He was always welcome to the family dinner.

“Careful, dad,” you chimed in. “Between Steve and Wanda, there might not be any left for the two of us.” Your dad laughed in response as Steve rolled his eyes and Wanda nodded. As you settled into the table, you realized your dad wasn’t exaggerating at all when he said he made way too much dinner. The table was lined with lasagna, roasts, vegetables, and lots of side dishes, enough for a feast. “What’s the occasion dad?” You asked as you looked around the table, trying to decide what to eat first. 

Your dad set his silverware down before explaining. “Well,” he began. “To be honest, I felt somewhat bad.” 

“About what?” you asked, your mouth full of lasagna. 

Your dad chuckled as he continued, passing you a napkin. “As I’m sure you’ve explained to your friends,” he gestured to Steve and Wanda. “I accepted the offer to help start the new restaurant. I thought about it some more, and I felt bad that you would have to uproot your whole life right at the end of high school.”

You looked at him, urging him to continue.

“So I contacted my friend from college, the one I meet with for lunch sometimes, and he said that his son also goes to the same school as you and since they have a spare room, he’s offering to take you in for the year.” 

“No shit,” Steve exclaimed in response as Wanda nudged him under the table, giving him a look reminding him to keep his foul language to himself, but your dad just laughed it off.

“That means I get to stay right?” You squealed. “I don’t have to leave?”

“Yes, that’s true,” your dad confirmed. “But it’s only for the year. At the end of your school year, you can move up with me, or if everything goes really well, I’ll be back home early.” He let out a sigh of relief at seeing the way the three of your faces lit up. Ever since you were little, you, Steve and Wanda had been inseparable. You would walk to school and back home together, you would have sleepovers and every meal was spent together. Your dad felt that tearing you away from them right before you would have to separate for college anyway was cruel. 

He cleared his throat as he continued. “I know the situation isn’t ideal, and that you’ll probably miss me so so so much,” he teased. “But I know you’ll be in good hands while I’m away.” He smiled fondly at the two boys sitting around the table who were looking at you with nothing but adoration in their eyes.

The rest of dinner went by quietly. Polite talk here and there, but an overwhelming effort to avoid discussing your father’s move, which was at the end of the week, settled among the four of you. It wasn’t until after dinner, after Wanda had left to go home, that you finally got to process your feelings with Steve who stayed behind to help clean up.

“Steve, you really didn’t have to stay,” You sighed as you leaned against the counter beside him as he turned on the faucet in the sink. “I don’t mind doing the dishes.”

He gave you the same winning smile that he gave your father earlier. “Please,” he began. “It’s the least I could do… you’ve had a long day.” He cocked his eyebrow at you, reminding you of the unopened note that now lay on top of your desk in your room. “How are you feeling?”

You grabbed a dish towel, helping Steve dry the dishes he washed, not wanting to meet his eyes. “Like a salad.” Steve turned to you with a confused chuckle, waiting for you to elaborate. “Don’t laugh, Wanda taught me this. I feel so many things right now but I can’t really condense it all into one thing.”

Steve hummed thoughtfully before continuing. “Okay, well what’s the lettuce right now? The biggest thing you’re feeling.”

“Hmm…” you thought. “Sad, that my dad is leaving. I’ve never been away from him that long.” 

“Okay, what about the chicken?” You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, appreciating the way Steve ran with your simile.

“The chicken… Happy.” You finally gave Steve a small smile. “Happy that I get to stay here with you and Wanda.”

Steve smiled back at you. “I’m happy about that too. How are we supposed to be a trio if it’s just me and Wanda?” 

You rolled your eyes playfully as you swatted his arm with the dish towel. “Steve, you and Wanda have enough personality for 13 people. I’m sure you would have found a way.”

He pouted in return, rubbing his arm where you swatted him before slipping back into a smile. “Not true, but whatever,” he relented. He was glad that the trio would remain a trio, but it got him thinking about what the future holds for the three of you. College was never really something you all had discussed in depth. Mostly just vague hypotheticals about what decorations to get for the apartment you’ll share and the kind of classes you’ll all take together. But in every future he could imagine, the three of you were always together.

After that night, the rest of the week passed by in a messy and teary blur, with Steve and Wanda coming over every day to help you pack. Well, “help” was a strong word. They mostly sat on your bed and looked through your knick knacks while asking for snacks. They were also very unhelpful at trying to convince you to “Marie Kondo” your room, as they called it.

Wanda tried convincing you that maybe you should leave your giant stuffed avocado behind, to which you adamantly argued against because she won it for you at the school carnival last year. Steve asked why you still kept your report card from fifth grade in a treasure chest, to which you responded by showing him the teacher’s notes, “Had to separate her from Steve and Wanda. They distract each other and draw pictures on their math homework. Always laughing and smiling in class :)”

Going through your whole room with them was a lot less embarrassing than you had expected, and by the end of the week, you were ready to go with only the essentials packed. Steve and Wanda came to see you off, helping your dad pack your things into the car and they each gave you a big hug before letting you go.

Your dad laughed at the scene, watching the three of you get teary eyed even though you would still see each other every day at school. But when he finally drove off and saw you looking wistfully out the window, he felt a pang in his chest and it reminded him how much he’s going to miss you as well. 

The drive was fun as it always was with your dad, but as he parked in front of a huge house in a very wealthy neighborhood, the grin on your face grew even more. The homes in this neighborhood were much bigger than your own, and you figured you should enjoy yourself while you’re here. Your dad took your hand as the two of you walked to the front door of his college buddy’s home, telling you a silly story about their adventures together in university.

“Oh, I’m so excited you get to meet him,” your dad exclaimed as he rang the bell. “I heard his son is actually in your grade, so maybe you already know him.”

You looked at your dad curiously. “What’s his name?” 

But before your dad could respond, the door swung open to reveal none other than–

“Bucky?” 

#Bucky Barnes #Sebastian Stan #Bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan headcanon #sebastian stan x reader #James Buchanan Barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut

[heyidkyay]

I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |

Epilogue

A/n: The finale. Heyyy, hope you all enjoyed the last update, I’m beyond grateful for all the love it got alongside the rest of this series, it means more than you’d realise. But I just had to indulge myself and write the epilogue too, made sense tbh and I really do love the way it went, there’s lot going on here and I feel like it was necessary to post! It’s just nearing 20k though so hopefully it’s enjoyable, there are a few different cut scenes, where we time jump, and one point where George gives us a little insight to the ongoings in his life, but overall it just shows the years after the end of 28. I loved writing this a whole lot but I am most thankful to @procrastinatinglikeapro for letting me annoy her with the emotions this brought up as well as giving me a place to bounce ideas around, so thank you, you lovely human:) Hopefully I can put you out of your misery now, and that the rest of you enjoy this last part? Thank you sm for reading! X

Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.

The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.

Masterlist

Epilogue -

Dealing with a shit hand in life, had both its downsides as well as its ups. 

With all the crap, the dirt, the anger and the grief, there also came perspective. 

As in, the more you’d been shafted with, the easier it was to deal with the more mundane things life had to throw at you. Like when the washing machine broke mid-cycle and flooded the kitchen floor in early December. Or missing the tube into work and being nearly twenty minutes late for an important client’s meeting. 

Even the times when all of your best mates, who were in a band, get suited and booted for a singular night, and then that said band goes on to win a Brit Award- only, you’ve gone and missed it all because you were stuck somewhere in a line to use the loo.

Yeah.

I swanned back over to our table in the mid-section just after, grateful that I’d had the foresight to check for loo-roll on the bottom of one of my heels as well as grab another champagne flute on my way over. 

Wasn’t one for the stuff, in truth. Literally anything else would’ve been better, but alcohol was alcohol and my anxiety always got the best of me at these kind of events. 

Even though I’d known the boys longer than the band had been formed, I hadn’t actually been to that many. This was my first one in quite a few years.

A small frown had etched itself onto my face by the time I made it over to our little section, the table was now half empty and not one of the boys were in sight- and I even ducked down slightly to see if they were pratting about beneath it too! But no such luck.

“Where’s everybody?” I asked Carly quietly, who’d been grinning like the cat that’d caught the cream before she turned to blink up at me. My forehead furrowed even further as I placed my glass down on the table top and took the seat beside her. “You alright? Is there something on my face or summat? You’re looking at me funny.”

She actually had the fucking nerve to laugh at me then, the cow.

“Oi, tell me!” I urged, swatting at her upper arm lightly after just having dragged my chair in.

“Only you, I swear.” Carly retorted, giggling freely now before she jutted her chin outwards, up towards the main stage. “You missed it, babe! They’re all up there!”

It was my turn to blink then, the alcohol slowing my ability to think functionally, before it finally hit me. My head snapped up towards the front of the room, where, low and behold, stood my four idiots.

Shit, I really needed to slow down.

But that was just a passing thought before I threw myself back up and out of my seat to whoop loudly for them, seemingly having lost all sense of decorum- or whatever it was that these toffpots loved to go on about- my anxiety having been well and truly chucked out the window.

The boys all appeared to glance over at me then, and I heard Carly snort behind an extravagant centrepiece just below me when the four of them laughed. Matty, the honest to God twat who was stood holding the award over by the mic, smirked though too, and it was so shit-eating that I could easily see it from across the floor. Instantly I knew what was coming. 

“Oh and would you look at that, the wonderful Birdie has returned!” Matty shouted out, eyes squinting with the extremity of his grin as he leant in closer over the podium, “Where you been then, B? Missed it, sweetheart! Ross reckoned you popped to the loo’s- pretty snazzy, ain’t they?”

“Felt like a queen!” I quipped right back, apparently unable to bite my tongue. 

The lot of them seemed to appreciate it though, as did some of the room.

“Our poor Georgie was a little lost on the way up, babe! But don’t worry, G, we’re all sorted now.” Matty teased, winking over at the drummer stood to his right. George rolled his eyes, but his mouth was curled to one side in a way that couldn’t be helped. “For everyone who doesn’t know the lovely Birdie! She has been with us sorry lot since the very start.”

“Before it.” Ross cut in from behind him, which sent Matty’s head nodding.

“Yeah! Before it even!” He corrected himself and then pointed the tip of their Brit award towards me, “Don’t think we could’ve made it this far without her, in truth. Probably would’ve had a big massive blow up and never have spoken to each other again, knowing us. But she’s the glue that binds us. Always.”

My heart swelled in my chest so much it almost hurt to breathe, and I couldn’t even bring myself to care for the hundreds of people sat in this room, never mind watching it all unfold on the tele, I’d just never felt so appreciated, especially upon seeing the rest of the boys all nod solemnly in agreement. I wiped haphazardly at my cheeks.

“But, as I was trying to say, long before we were all so rudely interrupted!” Matty went on, earning a round of chuckles throughout the arena. “We are beyond privileged to be here at all, and to have been nominated three times, too. Well, I ‘spose it just shows that we’re doing something right.”

I forced myself to sit back down at that and let the four of them carry on with their thanks. It was so beyond strange to sit through though, I don’t think it had ever really hit me just how much they’d grown and seeing them up there was all the proof I needed.

I thought back to the band practices, to the gigs in shitty dive bars and pubs, to touring and seeing them play for thousands of beaming faces. It reminded me of Carly and Adam’s wedding, and the birth of the band’s first baby. Made me think of Ross’s face when he’d come over to Matty’s after his first proper date, how buzzed he’d been, the look in his eyes. All of it had me wishing for the simpler times strung out by the pool and on the school’s playing fields. 

The years had seemed to pass us by so quickly.

I saw it in the wrinkled smile Hann gave Carly, the greying stands in Matty’s hair, and how G’s knees groaned whenever he sat down- though he’d never willingly admit it.

My family. They’d given me so much, filled many a hole in my war torn heart, but I don’t think they had any actual idea how deeply their presence was felt in me. And so as I stood once more to give another lungful of cheers alongside the rest of the audience, I vowed to make sure that they each knew just how loved they were and how proud they made me.

— 

“Yeah, yup. Of course! No, we do do peonies this time of year. Yes, no need to worry it’ll all be taken care of.” I pressed the phone against my shoulder and ear so that I could grab a nearby pen and paper to write a few details down, then hummed watching on as Delia came out the back of the shop. “Okay, and is that all? No, no, thank you! So it’ll be delivered on the Thursday, is that alright? Yeah. Okay, okay. You’re most welcome! Alright, have a good rest of your day.” Then I finished off the call with a classic British goodbye that always seemed to go on a little too long.

Delia was smiling at me now as she placed a couple of empty pots by the counter, hair plaited down the length of her back and with a pair of reading glasses tangled in its top. “Another order?” 

I hummed again with a happy smile at her ask, finishing off the address I’d just taken. “Yup! Big one too.”

“Oo, how lucky we are.” Delia retorted with a small chuckle and a pleased little smile of her own. It’d been a good week, lots of orders, which was promising after the past month we’d had. She glanced over to the clock on the far wall, then back to me, “You still skiving off early tonight?”

Skiving was hardly the term I’d use, but with a fond roll of my eyes, I nodded at her. “I am. That still okay?” Already knowing it was.

She tutted, waving me off. “You know it is. Just letting you know that he’ll be here any minute now.”

My eyes widened and I was quick to spin around to cast a glance at the time. “Shit.” I murmured to myself, listening to the faint laughter Delia gave as I undid my apron and hurried to tidy up what was left of my last bouquet.

“Leave it, love. I’ll be here another hour or so.”

I frowned, then shook my head, always one to clean up my own messes, but I was interrupted then by the shop door’s jingle. Both Delia and I looked up at the same time to find a familiar figure stepping through its archway, he wore his usual cheeky smile and had eyes that looked more alive than I’d seen in a long while. 

Well, I hadn’t really seen him in a long while, he’d been away on tour with the guys for months now and I’d only gotten small glimpses of him through texts and calls, as well as the odd sporadic visit between us both when we were really feeling the distance.

“George.” I breathed out, recognising the tension I’d been feeling for weeks now finally fall from off my shoulders. I couldn’t bring myself to move though, to race on over and throw myself into him like they did on the tele- mostly because that just wasn’t our style. But I did grin, couldn’t have stopped the beam of it in all honesty, and watched him walk the length of the flower shop only to pause about a foot away with his hands tucked neatly behind his back.

“Heya, Birdie. Fancy seeing you here, ey? And still not ready too. Ain’t already regretting having agreed to let me move in, are you?”

He was teasing. His favourite pastime had always been teasing me. But his words still resonated and as much as I wished to reassure him that that was most definitely not the case, I was still me and if he wanted to be a twat, then I could be an even bigger one. 

“Might be.” I sighed deliberately and slowly moved around behind the counter to hang my apron up on its original hook, before glancing over to where Delia still stood, wearing an amused smirk of her own. Far too used to our antics by now. “Just keep thinking about my lovely little flat being invaded by all your man-ness.”

“My man-ness?” George quizzed, withholding an obvious chuckle whilst he raised a questioning brow over the till at me. 

I hummed, tutting lightly before I glanced back at my boss. “You know what I mean, don’t you, Deils? The boxers and socks thrown about everywhere, wet towels left on the bathroom floor, having to clear up after not just yourself but them as well.”

“Like having a dog.” Delia immediately agreed with a dip of her head, “Eat whatever you feed them and don’t give you a minute alone.”

I snorted whilst George just shook his head at both of us.

“Well, most dogs don’t leave and come back baring gifts.”

“Eh, you’d be surprised.” Delia countered but by then I was already intrigued.

“Gifts, you say?” I questioned him, pressing my hip into the counter to rest my chin against my fist.

“Hm,” George hummed in low confirmation, those eyes of his dancing back and forth between my own, “But you know, could always just head on over to Ross’s, sure he’d be fine with housing me for a couple nights…”

I rolled my eyes at the very thought, “As if! He’s probably glad to see the back of you for a while. I’ve heard stories about tour, G. Remember that.”

It was his turn to snort then. “Most likely. Delia, you wouldn’t happen to have a spare bed going for a poor bloke who’s been fed empty promises and chucked out on his arse, would you?”

Delia sighed and shook her head, although she was still sporting a fond smile. “The pair of you. I swear.” She let go of a soft chuckle before checking my hip and shooing me off, “Get on out of here, would you? Driving me up the wall already.”

“You love us really.” I shot back easily, but was all too happy to oblige, rounding the till to grab my coat and bag before acknowledging that I was now standing a foot away from him once again. It’d been far too long. “Hey.” I said sheepishly.

George rolled his eyes at my awkwardness and made a grab for my hand, pulling me in close and pressing a kiss to my forehead before he slunk his arm around my waist. I let myself fall further into his embrace, taking in his familiar build, the aftershave he adored, the tightness of his hold.

“You ready to go?” He asked me gently and I dipped my head to hide the warmth of my smile, fingers finding a belt loop on his jeans.

“You sure you’re alright with me leaving early?” I said once more to Delia, hating having to leave her in the shop on her own.

“Yes! I’ve only told you about thirty times already, lovely. I’ll be more than fine.” The older woman immediately shot back, palms splayed on the countertop whilst she shook her head at me for umpteenth time today. “I think you forget I’ve been running this shop for well over a decade now, and I’ve been doing alright.”

My cheeks burned a tad at her words, but I just couldn’t seem to help it, once you were one of my people you were in for life. And I took care of the ones I held close. “Sorry, Deils. I know I’m being exhausting, I just-”

“Care.” Both her and George said simultaneously.

And I glared meekly at the pair then huffed, “Well.”

George chuckled beside me, the sound vibrating against the skin of my cheek, and could only seem to pull me impossibly closer, “Too much, sometimes.”

I threw my free hand up in the air with a light laugh, “Right. Sorry I’m overly considerate! But there are worst things you could be, you know. Like rude? Reckon the pair of you would know a thing or two about that.”

“Oh, gerroff it.” Delia laughed delightedly, tutting at me. George seemed content to just continue on grinning. “Go on, get out of here before I chuck you out.”

“You heard the lady, B. Don’t wanna overstay our welcome.” George added as he begun to usher us towards the door, but I saw the sweet smile he flashed the woman before the bell chimed once more. “Lovely seeing you again, Delia.”

“You too, be sure to pop back in before you head off on the road again.”

He laughed but assured her with a promising nod, “Will do.”

—

“That’ll be six fifty, sweetheart.”

I smiled and handed it over, pulling the cocktail I’d ordered across the bar whilst I scoped the place. 

It had been just a typical Tuesday night for me, I’d been in joggers, bra long gone, and curled up in front of the tele, but then George had phoned, spouting this and that about the album, telling me to meet the lot of them at a club down in Canning Town. 

I had no idea whether they’d started, finished, or just scrapped the whole thing, but it’d been doing everyone’s head in for months now, and for G to just call up and send a cab to fetch me out of the blue had me intrigued, so obviously I’d gone.

Only, they had yet to arrive. Fucking London. I swear as much as I loved it most days, you could hardly move an inch without it feeling like the entire city was shifting with you. Our flat was a lot further than the studio, but tonight the roads were crammed pack with traffic that had managed to work its way onto the A12, so I already knew that they’d be a little behind. I was merely thankful I’d had the foresight to skip the cab ride and just jump the tube.

A graze to my left arm then pulled me from my thoughts though and I glanced over to find a fella stood crowding the bar beside me, he was tall, blond, and although he appeared to be waiting on the bartender he was also a little too close for that to be his only intent. But me being me, I simply shuffled over a tad to give him some room and continued to sip at my drink, eyes still trained on the club’s entrance.

“Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to crowd you.” I heard the bloke say from beside me and his hand brushed my elbow as he took a polite step away.

“You’re alright.” I waved off, not really paying him much mind now that the bartender had worked his way back over to take this side’s order.

It was nearing almost eleven now and so I popped my phone out of my purse to see if G had sent me an update. He had, almost ten minutes ago in fact, but apparently I hadn’t heard it over the noise.

G: Stuck in traffic Won’t be long though x

I smiled and shot him a quick text back, saying I’d have a large talisker waiting for him.

It was only when I’d flicked it back off, not bothering with whatever else had popped up, that the guy caught my attention again. He’d already cheersed the bartender for his drink, coloured something ruddy, and then granted me a small smile when our sights crossed.

“I love the watch.” He said to me, dark eyes shooting downward to the antique that adorned my wrist.

Caught mostly by surprise, I found myself looking down at it too. It wasn’t much of a statement piece, dainty if anything and odd in its design due to the age, but it held a lot of sentimental value and was something I rarely ever parted with. Hardly anyone passed comment on it though. 

“Oh, thanks.” I replied, drink already back on the bar before I allowed my thumb to graze across it’s glass face briefly. “It was a gift.”

The man hummed around a swirl of his drink, “Looks rather old, got to be at least sixty now?”

I grinned and my surprise stuck with me, he was almost on the mark there. “Around about, it was given as a present to my grandparents on their wedding day. One of their friends gave them one each.”

That answer warranted a little shock of its own, I supposed. If you knew what to look for you’d see that the watch was a Hans Wilsdorf design from the mid forties and the one my grandad had worn completed a matching set. To say that they’d both been given as a gift, especially way back then, was amazing, but even more so seeing that both my grandparents had been working class.

“Can I?” He questioned and dipped his head down at it, asking for a closer look. 

He appeared to know a little about watches from what I’d grasped, or at least had a fondness for them, and seeing as it wasn’t the strangest thing to ever happen to me in a club, I held out my arm to let him. 

“It’s beautiful, well looked after.” He complimented sincerely with careful eye, “May I?” I frowned at his question, unsure on what he’d meant, but nodded once and was only slightly surprised when he took a gentle hold of my wrist to turn it over and glance at the clasp. “Even the engravings have kept.”

I smiled when he allowed me my hand back, glancing down at the watch again, the dim lights over the bar glinted across the metal. “It’s even got a small inscription on the back too.” I felt inclined to add, the chiseled words having stuck with me ever since I’d first seen them. 

The stranger smiled along with me, as though he understood the emotions my revelation held. “Do they have a story?” He wondered, before adding, “The friend behind the gift.”

It wasn’t a well kept secret, the background of my grandad, the friends he’d kept, the men he’d known. But it wasn’t one I’d heard very much of until the visits I’d taken to my Nana’s long after he had died and I’d left home.

“You could say that.” I chuckled and let my arm relax in my lap once more, “He was a… business man, of sorts. Had known my grandad since they were boys, grew up together.”

“A business man?” The man lifted an elegant brow, mouth following.

“Of sorts.” I reminded with a smirk.

“Oh, like that I see.” He smiled charmingly in retort, “Lots of business men mulling about in the fifties and sixties. Any big names I might know?”

I snorted softly, glad he’d caught on so quickly. “Probably. But I’m no snitch, so you’ll be hearing none.”

He narrowed a pair of dark eyes at me in a manner of teasing at that, and on any other girl they might’ve worked, might’ve even disarmed them. But, I was already happy, happier than I’d ever planned on being actually. “And here I was, thinking we were becoming fast friends.”

With a light laugh, I picked up my drink. “I have enough friends.”

“Oh, that hurts, darling.” The man instantly quipped back, raising a ring clad hand to cover his chest faintly. Yeah, he was definitely playing a game here, but just as I’d been about to affirm the fact that I wasn’t and also had a boyfriend, he spoke up again, “Go on, at least let me know the message engraved on the back.”

I peered over at him for a moment and he only quirked his brow in turn, I put my glass back down on the counter to unhook the first clasp on the watch, not enough for it to slip off (I wasn’t a fucking idiot) but so much so that I could flip the face on its front. And there, in a curved font, was written ‘Family has a way of being found amongst friends’.

“Wow.” The man murmured and I hummed softly in agreement, our heads bowed closely to read the inscription together in the dim lights. “Very wise words.”

I glanced up and smiled at him, ready to reply before a hand snaked its way around my waist. My head shot up at the touch and was greeted with the many faces of the band, but most importantly, George.

“You made it!” I beamed at them all, already shuffling over a bit to make room for the boys. Ross was already leaning against the bar though, ordering in a round, Hann seemed to follow his lead after gifting me an strained smile, which was confusing in itself, until I saw Matty’s shit-eating grin and felt George’s hand grow firmer on my hip.

“We did! Seems like you barely noticed though, love. Havin’ fun tonight, are we?” Matty baited, he was almost singing and his expression was nothing short of gleeful. He reached between me and the bloke I’d been speaking to to grab at my drink. “Cheers, B.” He added, raising the glass to his lips and downing what remained of it.

I rolled my eyes, albeit fondly. “You can buy me another now, Healy.”

Matty hissed theatrically through his teeth as though he was weighing on the thought, “Dunno about that one, sweetheart. Seems as though you’ve got bigger shit to worry about here.”

I pursed my lips in confusion just as the curly haired singer slid from view and then glanced up at George, who stood towering beside me. I poked at his side, “Not gonna even say hello? Been waiting ages for you lot.”

George glanced down at me at that and seemed to take a deep breath before he finally smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to my hair, “Hello, Birdie. Been behaving?”

My forehead pinched at his words, but when I looked up I saw the darkened haze his eyes held and felt my breath hitch. I wasn’t sure if it was down to the lighting in the club or something other, but whatever it was it had my emotions warring.

George turned away before I could mutter a single sound. “Sorry, mate. Don’t think I caught your name.”

It hit me then. 

G was jealous. And oh, how lovely that thought was. 

I was quick to dim the smirk that toyed with my lips upon the realisation and pulled a little bit away from his hold to offer the stranger I’d been sat with a truly apologetic smile, “Oh God, yeah, I didn’t either!”

The man’s stare darted between the pair of us before it landed back on me, he masked his confusion well and said, “Tom.” Then stuck a hand out to properly introduce himself, but before I could even think to take it, George beat me to it. 

I blinked.

“George. Not to be rude though, mate. But she’s already taken, so if you don’t mind?”

Startled by his harsh comment and the jerk of George’s head, I blanched and was hasty to reassure the man sat at the bar, “Don’t mind him.” Then turned to my suddenly temperamental boyfriend, “G, we were just talking about my watch. What’s up with you?”

He raised a single brow in retort but didn’t let up on the continuous stare he had on the stranger. Tom, who looked extremely fucking uncomfortable, merely held up a hand. “Didn’t mean to overstep.” He declared before he set his sights back on me, “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable in any way. But it really was a pleasure meeting you, hope you enjoy the rest of your night.”

I fish-mouthed slightly but nodded, “Yeah, sorry. You too.”

The man granted the pair of us a tiny smile and then let himself get swept up in the club’s crowd. I immediately spun around to face George.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!”

He had the cheek to reel back from my hissed words, acting as though I was the one being outrageous here. “Me? I didn’t do anything!”

“You were so rude!” I countered and felt his hand slip a tad from its place on my hip, “We were just talking!”

“He was chatting you up!” He immediately argued, “Anyone could see that from a mile off!”

“He was interested in my watch! And even if he was trying to chat me up, don’t you trust me enough to know when to draw the line?” I sniped back, all the earlier amusement I’d felt drained from my body. 

The skin between his brows pinched as he blinked and the palm placed on the small of my back splayed a little further, his voice softened, “Of course I fucking do, Birdie. Doesn’t mean I like watching people like him fawn all over you.”

“G,” I sighed, “We really were just talking.”

He dragged a roughened hand across his face before it dropped completely to his side and saw the imploring look he then wore, “Do you know how it felt, to walk in and spot you and him knocking heads, so lost in the moment that you didn’t even hear me call out your name?”

No, I didn’t.

Slowly I raised both my arms up to tug on the lapels of the blazer he’d thrown on, glancing up at him with a sincere smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise. I can see what it might’ve looked like from an outside perspective. But I’d never do that to you, George.”

The tension in his shoulders seemed to loosen at my words, they were no longer hunched up by the lobes of his ears and instead settled where they were supposed to be. 

“I know.” He whispered quietly, but even over all the club’s noise I heard him. The hand on my back pushed against me to bring me closer to his chest and I went, smiling at the gentle touch of the fingers that grasped my chin. “I know.” 

I appreciated the reassurance. 

“And I wasn’t lost in the moment with him, just so you know. More in the story behind the watch.” I added, releasing the hold on his jacket so that my hand could wrap around his wrist, feeling the beat of his pulse there. A familiar rhythm. 

George glanced down at the watch Nana had gifted me all those years ago and then towards the matching face sat on his own arm. A pair reunited.

He knew. He knew the stories, all the tales. He knew the love and the loss. He knew how much I missed her. How much I longed to see her one more time. And in return, I knew he felt very much the same. Nana had taken George in as one of her own before any of us had even realised, called him up more than me some weeks, and in the lead up to her death she’d wanted to see him, to gift him her husband’s watch. He’d sobbed when she’d died and had given quite the speech at her funeral. I knew he understood.

“I love you.” I told him simply, kissing the thumb that had come to rest on my bottom lip, his eyes trained on mine.

“And I love you. I’m sorry for being a dick.” He comforted me. I hummed with a foolishly fond smile. 

“Good, then you can bully Matty into getting me that drink.” And with that said, I let him go, watching as he rolled his eyes at the order before wandering a few feet away to where Matty was sprawling himself across the bar to get a better look at the champagne bottles they had to offer. I guess we were celebrating then. 

Too lost in watching George corral his best mate from off the counter, I jumped a tad when Ross sidled up beside me, a fruity cocktail in hand.

“What is it with you and handsome strangers then?” He asked me casually and I snorted out an unexpected laugh.

“Dunno really. Why, you jealous?”

Ross wiggled his brows at me, “Wouldn’t that put a spin on the evening.”

The two of us shared a conspiratorial grin and he finally told me why the hell I’d been dragged out of my flat tonight.

—

“Vegas, ba-by!”

“Whoo!”

“VEGAS! VEGAS! VEGAS!”

“Alright, you lot.” George laughed from the backseat of the limousine Matty had rented out for the night- a bit over the top in my opinion, but when in Las Vegas, right? “Calm it down, will you? Only just got here.”

“Oh piss off, George!”

“Should I take my top off?”

“Yeah, fuck off, grandad!”

“I feel like I should take my top off.”

“Shit, is that Elvis?”

“I’m gonna take my top off!”

“Oi!” George’s arms wrapped around my middle and pulled me back down from the sunroof before I could, and I landed in his lap with an oof sound. “None of that, please.”

Hann snorted in the lounger across from us, a bottle of Smirnoff clutched in his right hand as he poured another shot, but was caught off guard by the shirt that came sailing at his face. It was then that Matty’s head popped back into view. 

“No worries, B. Ross took his top off in your stead.”

George snorted, Hann sighed, and I jumped back up to join in on the fun. 

“G, hold this, would you?” I said, top already balled up in my hand and cleavage to the wind whilst I grinned widely at all the lights that Sin City had to offer me.

…

We all ended up on the strip soon enough, limo long gone and the five of us marvelling at all it had to offer. We only had a night to pack full to the brim with stupid choices and a shit ton of money, because tomorrow we were set to head back on the road, headed off to a festival not too far for the band’s next show.

“Where to first then?” Hann asked everyone. 

“Caesars Palace!” The boys all chorused, but me, I had my mind set on other things. “Magic Mike.”

Matty looked over at me for a short moment whilst the rest of the guys simply raised their brows. “Yeah, alright then.” He agreed all too easily enough and that was it. “Magic Mike here we come!” Matty declared loudly before setting off, “Ross, mate, don’t get hard and embarrass us, alright?”

Ross’s bewildered squark was lost in the crowd of people we got swept up in as well as our obnoxious laughter.

…

It seemed that Magic Mike had been an experience and a half, and not just for me either. Matty left the show with a Cheshire sized grin, both Hann and G looked pink in the cheeks, and Ross… Ross was flushed and sporting glassy eyes. I’d been pretty chuffed with their reactions all in all, especially when one of the dancers had tried to drag George of all people up onto the stage. He’d refused adamantly, mind, probably too fearful of the fan’s reactions, but the woman beside us- well into her sixties and sporting a cane- had been all too happy to offer herself up instead. 

We’d wandered off to the casinos after that, but instead of heading straight towards the first table we saw or scoping out the machines, we all seemingly decided on shoving as much alcohol as we could possibly procure down our throats. To say that the aim of the night wasn’t getting sloshed beyond repair would be an utter lie. But this was Vegas and I would not stand to have it any other way.

Saying that though, with all the alcohol a lot of the night seemed to blur, sort of merge into one, the strip lights started to look like rainbows, the cars that passed appeared more Pac-Man like than anything else, and bad ideas seemed like the smartest thing we could do. 

Which is how George and I managed to evade the rest of the band in one of the local bars and escape to where we were currently stood, outside of a tiny chapel a street away from an In-and-Out. Classy. But I’d take it.

“You sure about this?”

“Are you? It was your idea!”

“With you? Always.”

We both seemed to giggle at that.

“I could really go for a burger, you know.”

“B, aren’t you like a plant person?”

I snorted. “Vegetarian, you mean?”

“Hm, same thing, in’t it? Don’t think birds actually eat burgers though.”

Birds. “Well for one, I’m not an actual bird. And b, have you ever seen a seagull?”

“Shit, yeah. You’re right.” A thoughtful pause. “Think I want a burger too.”

“Alright, after this then?”

“Yeah, alright.” He grabbed my hand a little tighter at that and I looked over to find him grinning like a loon. “After this.”

…

I startled awake to loud incessant knocking and immediately groaned into my pillow at the pitiful pounding it kickstarted in my head. I’d never felt so worn and sluggish, and a hellish fury rose within me at the startle, but seeing as the knock-ee couldn’t see through walls, I supposed they still had no idea that they were currently the cause of World War III.

Somewhere to the right of me, George seemed to wake also, grunting at the onslaught of noise and huffing loudly, “Fuck off!”

I winced at the jarring sound of his voice, and it appeared he did too, but was grateful when the banging finally stopped. Only it wasn’t for long because as soon as it did, it started up again and was joined by Matty’s head-splittings shouts.

“Open! This! Fucking! Door!”

He was relentless and somewhere, in the very depths of my mind, I found it odd how he wasn’t in his or someone else’s hotel room nursing a violent hangover of his own.

“Now! Open this door right fucking now!”

It stopped again for a moment, catching me enough by surprise that I dug myself out from under a plethora of sheets. Then let my eyes slip close again in annoyance when a second voice sounded alongside Matty’s own.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to either calm down or leave.” Came the muffled order, “We’ve had multiple complaints in the last five minutes alone.”

“Calm down? Calm down! Mate, I don’t think you have any right to ask that of me right now! I’m freaking the fuck out here. I’m beyond fucking pissed! YOU HEAR ME?” He seemed to shout louder then, obviously aiming that last bit at us. George huffed beside me but thankfully made to move. “FUCKING FUMING! I MEAN, WHAT KIND OF PEOPLE- FRIENDS, EVEN! DO THAT TO A-”

The tyrant roaring cut off then and I peered across the room to watch as George ripped the hotel door open and tugged Matty into the suite by his elbow, all whilst wearing nothing but a thin sheet. 

“Will you shut up, you mouthy twat?” He muttered, levelling Matty with a glare nothing short of hellish, though was only met with a childish scowl in turn, before he looked back at the bellhop, a well groomed man with sleek black hair and a thin lipped smile. I groaned internally. “Look sorry, mate. He’s had a rough night, we’ll make sure to keep the noise down from now on.”

“Rough night?” Matty snarled with an undisguised snort- whatever had him this riled up was sure to have been big. But George gave him another look of disdain, apparently not all that pleased to have been so rudely awoken and forced to deal with his bullshit, and he relented to a scowl. I kept myself hidden beneath the covers.

“It won’t happen again.” George quietly assured the hotel worker and sighed heavily once the man had given him a curt nod and the door had shut. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” He immediately asked, rounding on the curly haired idiot now stood in our room, before taking a deep breath and stalking his way back across the floor, dragging the sheet with him. I attempted to sit up.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you! I can’t fuckin’ believe you two!”

With a frown that was more of a pained grimace, I grabbed a random shirt from off the floor beside the bed and tugged it on- it was George’s, but thankfully it’d been the one he’d chucked off before we’d headed out last night.

Thinking back to last night though, I rubbed at my bleary eyes and tried to recollect the events that had happened after the fishbowls we’d devoured at a themed bar I could not for the life of me remember the name of. But they just wouldn’t come.

“What’s wrong, Matty?” I questioned, my voice all gravelly, and I faintly recalled then having screamed quite a bit- in all sorts of situations. My cheeks flushed at the vague memories that swam towards the forefront of my mind.

“What do you mean, what’s wrong? B, how fucking could you!” Matty quipped straight back, looking just as grim as I felt, his hair in disarray, still in last nights clothes, and stinking up a storm.

“Matt. I need you to slow down, my head’s fucked enough as it is and you’re not helping.” I told him, scrunching my face up as a sudden wave of nausea rocked through me. 

“Exactly.” George grunted out and I looked over to see him forcing up a pair of boxers, beyond the point of caring if he had an audience or not.

Matty glared between the pair of us, but then George sighed and sat himself back down on the bed, and Matty’s narrowed eyes seemed to soften. “You honestly have no clue what I’m on about, do you?”

I rubbed at my temples, “No idea.”

“Hm.” George muttered in a huffed agreement and swiped a hand across his face before he stilled in his entirety.

“What?” I said, confused by the way he’d gone so stock-still, “If you’re gonna chuck up there’s a bin right there.” I added just in case, gesturing halfheartedly over towards the cluttered desk not too far from the bed.

George didn’t seem to hear me though, instead just turned very carefully and very slowly in his seat to look over at me.

“What?” I asked him again, this time a little more frenzied, throwing my hands down onto the duvet that covered my lower half in a huff. My patience had already been worn thin, and he really wasn’t making things much better. 

George’s gaze seemed to follow my hands though, before his head instantly snapped back up in Matty’s direction like a rubber band that’d been cut. 

“Oh shit.”

Matty rolled his eyes. “Yeah, oh shit.”

“What? What’s goin- Oh, shit.”

My eyes caught on the glinting stone stationed on my left hand and my breath caught, all thoughts fleeing as my lungs refused to function any further than that. Oh shit indeed. 

“I- What does that even mean?” My gaze darted from Matty’s bewildered face to George’s shellshocked expression and then to the man’s matching hand. “Christ. What did we do?”

I was really freaking the fuck out now and wondered briefly if this was all just an alcohol induced dream, if I’d had one too many shots, or stumbled too hard and ended up face first in a fountain.

But then the door to our hotel room shot open and in swanned Ross looking like Camilla on Coronation day, as well as Adam who was scrolling frantically through his phone. 

Ross seemed to have hardly been affected by any of last night’s antics, still looking as lovely as ever, and was unwelcomely singing a familiar Billy Idol tune as the two of them wandered in further. “Hey little sister, what have you done? Hey little sister, who's the only one?”

I chucked the nearest thing I had to me at his giant head, which ended up being a small red box, but he merely caught it in midair and grinned. “It's a nice day to start again. It's a nice day for a-” He carried on with his wind-up, peering down at the box passingly before his eyebrows shot up to a scary degree. He whistled lowly, cutting himself completely off, then let his wide eyes glance over to George and I. “White wedding.”

Those last two words had the entire room falling silent. The hotel even, hell, maybe the entire fucking planet! I could barely hear anything above the beating of my own heart that had started banging like a metal drum in my ears.

Belatedly, I forced myself to try and gauge George’s reaction to this whole thing but my boyfriend- oh God, my fiancé now? Husband?!- appeared to already be staring right back at me. His expression gave nothing away except for the apparent shock swimming in his eyes. I wondered if I mirrored it exactly.

Matty, who’d been silent ever since the revelation had hit the two of us, now seemed to jump start and cautiously he made his way over to my side of the bed, precariously taking perch in front of me before he then took my hand- the one without the life-altering reminder, thankfully. Small mercies. 

“B? You okay?”

My mouth was dropped open in utter shock but slowly I turned my head to stare up at my best friend, the boy who’d been with me through everything. Everything but this it seemed. 

“Hey, love. You’re alright. Just a big shock to the system, yeah? You’re alright.”

His quiet reassurances didn’t do much, but they helped ebb the fizzing thoughts my mind didn’t have the capability to process a bit. I forced myself to inhale, to take a breath, but it must’ve seemed rather abrupt to Matty who hastily drew himself closer to place a hand on the back of my neck.

“Just breathe. I’ve got you. Breathe. You’re alright.”

I started nodding, I think. Attempted to absorb the information whilst I breathed in and out, breathing like Matty told me to. Another set of hands found me soon enough. Mindlessly I acknowledged the dip in the bed beside me, as well as the careful fingers that threaded themselves through my hair, and then the loving thumb which trailed sweetly down the length of my forearm.

“You feeling any better?” Someone asked a little while later, and I nodded slowly, forcing my head back up and my eyes open once I no longer felt like the room was caving in on me. 

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, love. Nothing to be sorry for.” The voice assured me, it was George, I realised.

“Feel like a twat. For reacting like that I mean. I didn’t, I mean, it’s not like I wouldn’t want to-” I could barely bring myself to say it, but George seemed to understand me nevertheless. 

We’d spoken about it before, of course. But not since we’d gotten back together and only ever when we’d been kids, way back before the band had taken off, before life had chewed us up and spat us back out. 

I’d never been gone on the idea, marriage was a big deal, scary in a sense. Seeing what it had done to my parents, to my mum after losing my dad, I never wanted to end up like that. Too terrified to be alone and too desperate to fill that void with anything and anyone. My skin itched even now at the very thought.

But I was also old enough to realise that whether George and I were… married or not, I’d still be just as destroyed if I lost him.

George had vaguely agreed with me back then, though I do remember one night, at Nana’s the summer after our first visit there, where he’d said something different. We’d been curled up on the guest bed, wine drunk and happy, he’d held me close, half naked with our arms and legs entangled, he’d whispered and I’d barely even heard him, slipping tiredly into sleep. But he’d said it and I’d remembered, even after all these years.

“If I ever did get married, it’d have to be to you. I mean, you’re an anomaly, Birdie. You’d make sure it worked out, that everything would be okay. Reckon then, it’d all be fine.”

I recalled myself smiling sleepily at his words but unable to truly believe them.

George loved me and I loved him. And that was all that mattered, right?

Nothing could change that. It hadn’t then, and it wouldn’t now. I knew that.

“Wait, how did you lot even find out?” I forced myself to ask the rest of the room, chest still aching from the panic I’d put my body through, thoughts starting to numb the headache of my hangover. I glanced between the rest of the boys, but my sights settled on Matty seeing as though he’d been the first one to barge in. “Well?” I prompted. 

Matty scratched at the back of his head and I watched his mouth quirk up into something that resembled a smile, only it was anxious and strained. Didn’t reach his cheeks, let alone his eyes.

“Twitter.” Hann answered for the three of them, already handing his phone over. 

George wrapped an arm around my hips and shuffled closer to view the screen, whilst I had the pleasure of scrolling aimlessly through a feed of fan reactions and news outlets. The panic that was still there came back in full force but I wouldn’t let it overwhelm me like I had before, instead opting to swallow it all down and continue on.

“How did they even find out?” George questioned with a strange pitch to his voice upon seeing multiple pictures of the two of us loving it up outside the chapel we’d obviously chosen, as well as us eating by a window at a nearby In-and-Out Burger it seemed. Fucking hell, was all I could think.

Ross tossed the box I’d thrown at him earlier towards George and we both glanced down at it. It hadn’t just been an ordinary box and I could see that now, what with the sleek embossed logo for a Las Vegas jewellers sat proudly on the top.

“Couple of people saw you inside the shop, called the paps. Things started to add up when they caught sight of you at that chapel, I ‘spose.” The bearded giant told us and I felt the lump in my throat start to grow. 

I’d been pictured with the band and George before, on tour mostly, but sometimes at events and such, but rarely ever papped in public. Not like this at least.

I let my head drop onto George’s shoulder and wielded my eyes tightly shut, I wanted to scream or cry, but I didn’t know whether it was in joy or utter fear.

Then I felt a soft pair of lips come to rest against my head and I moved slightly to wrap my arms around George’s middle, wincing when I realised I hadn’t even asked him how he was feeling.

“How are you taking all this? I didn’t even ask, I’m sorry.” I murmured into the curve of his arm, but he only seemed to press his face deeper into my hair.

“Look, we’d best give you some space, yeah?” I heard Adam start to say, voice echoing in the quiet room. “Let you get some clothes on and sort your heads out.”

“Yeah.” Matty breathed out in agreement and the bed shifted as he removed his weight from it, his hand squeezing my shoulder just the once.

“Maybe text us when you feel like talking, we can grab some food and bring it back up.” Ross suggested and I felt George nod above me, and together we sat there listening to footsteps pad their way out of the room. Leaving us alone again. 

—

So after that whole scandal, England’s very own Ross and Rachel eventually had to make their way back home. And yes, Ross and Rachel because let’s be honest here, if George and I were anyone amongst the Friends cast then we’d of course be those two. And I don’t know, Matty could probably play at being a good Phoebe, then Ross and Hann would end up as Joey and Chandler- work it out between yourselves on who’s who there. And I suppose that would leave the lovely Carly as our very own Monica. Only, this is all happening before season four, of course, and Carly is already back home waiting for her husband to touchdown. 

So maybe not. I don’t know! My mind was still in a right state after everything that had gone down in Vegas, and I’d hardly been able to process most of it due to tour and the festival, and the onslaught of fans and paps, as well as people back home. Denise had not been happy to find out the way she had, let’s just make that one thing known. 

And then there’d been George’s parents. 

Sighing quietly, I placed a hand over George’s own to still the nervous tapping that seemed constant nowadays and watched as he stilled for a moment, turning in his airplane seat to glance over at me. 

I allowed my body to mimic his movements, only pulling my leg up to press against the arm of the chair and resting my head to the side. I smiled softly at him, more than a little glad that we’d made the decision to take separate flights from the rest of the boys in attempt to throw off the media. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, letting him take my hand in his and not saying a word when he toyed with the silver band that had yet to leave my ring finger.

George shrugged a shoulder, gaze caught on the pretty stone. “I haven’t a clue what I’ll say, is all.”

I licked my lip in thought, still watching him closely. The plane back home probably wasn’t the best place to talk about this, but we’d hardly had a minute alone since Vegas, what with the tour and the guys and everybody else. And besides, if there were any privileges to take full use of when dating a musician you’d drunkenly married then it would most definitely be First Class seats. Everyone else around us was either dead to the world or wearing headphones. We were safe enough here.

“Did you answer yet? Or, are even you going to?”

He drew in a large enough breath before he answered me, but that seemed to be answer enough.

“I haven’t yet and I don’t know. I- They’ve called quite a bit, but mum left a voicemail the day after and later on dad sent a text.” He revealed and I tried to reign back my surprise, though it made sense now to how little he’d wanted his phone near him the past few days, even when he’d been casting it longing glances from across the length of the tour bus.

I swallowed. “Have you listened to it?”

He dipped his head in a nod but didn’t meet my eye, attention still so focused on the hand he held.

“Right… and have you read your dad’s message?” Another nod. This was so hard, I’d honest to God been dreading their reactions so I had no idea just how George was taking it all. I desperately wanted to just tug him in and never let him go again, hope that if he stayed wrapped up in a hug that the world would just leave him be. “Did,” I took a small breath to gather myself, “Did they react like you expected?” Badly, it could only mean badly.

I heard him let out a small and tired chuckle, “Mum did. Dad…”

Okay, so there was hope. There was still hope.

“I listened to the voicemail first, it was,” George inhaled sharply and I took note of the deep furrow between his brows, the way his touch softened on my hand, circling the ring. “It was a lot. I expected it though. The shame she felt I brought, getting married like that, looking the way we did, drunk and stupid. Her words, not mine. Said she wouldn’t be surprised if I was high out of my mind too, or if it was all just fake in an attempt to spurn her some more and get attention.”

Talk about being full of yourself. But I kept that thought to myself, I was angry yes, fuming even, but it was George’s call on how we handled this, because we would, together.

He sighed again, but finally looked back up at me. “She said a lot of other shit I can’t be arsed to think about anymore. But just know that I know that none of it’s true. Hurtful, yeah. Of course. But true?” He shook his head, “Nah.” He exhaled, “And I know we haven’t really,”

“Spoken about it?” I finished for him and he smiled, this tiny but fond thing that sent my heart stuttering.

“Yeah. But no matter what happens, this,” He tugged my palm up to his chest and held it between his hand and his heart, “This is the greatest thing I’ll ever accomplish.”

My eyes instantly prickled at that, just as my breath was knocked from deep within me. I had to fight to swallow and felt my hand clutch the cloth of his shirt.

“Me too.”

George grinned, a complete 180 to the tender smile he’d been wearing, but still so gut-wrenching. Only, in the very best way.

“Good.” He whispered to me, tens of thousands of feet up in the air, and lifted our joined hands to press a kiss to my skin. “Good.”

“So this is it? It’s sticking?” I asked him, hope already so high that I was sure it would shatter if he wasn’t there already holding his arms out towards me. 

He chuckled at my words and leant in close, fingers toying with my ring. “It’s sticking.”

My breath hitched and I found that I was grinning too, almost madly. Eyes trained on his whiskey brown, the very same I’d been staring into for well over a decade now. And still, they mesmerised me like no other.

“Good.” I whispered and finally closed the gap between us.

—

Life after getting hitched was, almost boring in a way? Things continued on as they always did, G in the studio and me at the flower shop. Our friends had gotten over the fact that we’d eloped on a whim- namely Matty, although he was still a little bitchy about it at times. And Denise had thrown us the loveliest party when we’d gotten back to the UK (not that anything could’ve stopped her, not even an apocalypse it would seem). 

The party had been a small affair with just the people we held nearest and dearest, and although it’d been to celebrate the two of us and our commitment to one another, it had also been a great excuse to see everyone we hadn’t seen in ages again, even if we did end up apologising to them every five minutes. George’s dad even ventured down to join in on the festivities, which was the biggest but best surprise yet. The two of them were now working hard on rekindling their relationship with the absence of his mother.

It was just the media that had yet to die down in truth, so we were forced to get used to seeing our ugly mugs plastered everywhere, online and on magazine shelves. Fans of the band were a little intrigued by the idea of George having someone permanent too, even if I had already been around for ages. But Matty had mentioned to me previously when I’d brought it up one evening, that only the older lot really knew of me, from gigs and old photos, hardly anyone knew that G and I had been together since we were kids, let alone having been in a relationship for a little over two years now. It was strange but I left it be.

It was summer again, finally, and everyone was currently taking up residence in Hann’s back garden. See, Carly had wanted to throw a bit of a get-together, have a barbecue now that the sun was back out and everyone was in London again, or at the very least England (cough, cough, Matty).

Hann had been unable to say no, typical for the two of them, and had started sending out invites via text as soon as. 

I was surprised I’d actually made it, in all honesty. Not that I’d had other plans or simply didn’t want to be there- there was no place on Earth I’d rather be than with this useless lot- but all week I’d been feeling like shit. But I’d been a bit under the weather for a short while now, on and off really, though I’d yet to go and see anyone about it. Ever since the crash and all that crap a couple years back, I’d really struggled with hospitals and doctors, hated the thought of them, even phoning up for G had me feeling queasy. 

This morning I’d felt beyond nauseous and more than a little crap when I’d woken up, but George had made breakfast after having popped out to the shops and had come back with a bouquet, as well as a hello from Delia, which had put me in much better spirits. So I’d gotten ready and forced myself into the car and had been quite thankful for doing so up until now.

We were all gathered out in the garden, the sun was shining bright, the grill was alight, drinks were being passed round, and me, I was absolutely fucking miserable. I was far too hot, even in my pretty sundress, feeling flustered beyond belief at the onslaught of emotions that kept on hitting me, and then to top it all off my stomach had been acting up since I’d sat down and caught a whiff of the onions on the grill.

I pressed a palm to the base of my neck as I struggled to keep my cool, breathing steadily whilst hardly paying attention to the chatter of the girls sat around me. It was the usual group of us, some of which I hadn’t seen for a good couple months, but I could not bring my body to simply just focus or stop irritating me in its entirety.

It was just as Matty swanned over, an arm flung round Waughy’s waist as the two of them talked, that I couldn’t stay sat there anymore. I was quick to flash the pair of them a welcoming grin but excused myself to make my way back inside.

“You okay?”

I glanced up at the voice, beyond grateful to have escaped the sun, and caught sight of Carly messing with some extra picky bits on the counter, salad and whatnot.

I forced another smile and nodded, “Yeah, just wanted to nip to the loo.”

Carly copied the sentiment, though gifted me a bottle of water that she had on hand before I could dash off, “Take that, you’re looking a little flushed, babe. Might help with the heat.”

My smile was more genuine this time around as I took her up on the offer, enjoying the crisp chill that lined the outside of the bottle. “Thanks. And yeah, reckon I’ll just sit in the shade for a bit.”

Carly went to say something else then but was thankfully pulled away by the toddler that came shuffling through the backdoor. I took the opportunity to hurry out of the kitchen and towards the downstairs bathroom, sliding in and shutting the door with a sigh.

I went straight on over to the sink and turned on the water just to wet my hands before taking up perch on the closed toilet lid, listening to the water trickle and flow, hoping it would calm me slightly. Then I took the chance to down half the bottle Carly had gifted me, a bit grim sure, but with the loo being my only escape I hardly had a choice here. The water was practically heaven sent and allowed me a second to take relief in the coolness the room had to offer, its chilly tiles and blinded window kept any and all sunbeams at bay.

But now that I had managed to evade the heat, I realised I’d been left with a rather prominent headache I hadn’t noticed earlier in my agitation. Knowing Hann though, he was always well prepared and probably kept a couple paracetamol in the bathroom cabinet.

I grinned when I got up and pulled open a door to find that I’d been right. I went to grab at the packet only to pause when I caught sight of something else sat on the shelf below it.

A box of pregnancy tests.

No, I thought. It wouldn’t make any sense. But it really seemed to hit me in that moment that maybe, just maybe everything I’d been feeling as of late could boil down to one single thing.

“No.” I repeated, this time out loud and accompanied by a disbelieving laugh. But still I found my hand reaching towards them.

I only reckoned that they were in there in the first place because Adam and Carly had given away the fact that they had wanted to start trying again a couple months prior. Around Easter time I think it had been.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts, but they all seemed drawn to this singular idea, and although I already knew that it was stupid, almost incredibly so, to even think that I could be, well… I still allowed myself to grab at them and it was almost on autopilot that I pulled out a stick and shakily made my way back to the toilet.

I made quick work of it, all that water I’d been drinking seemed to help, and found myself leaning over the sink waiting for a stick to determine what I already knew would be false. It had to be. There was no other way.

But then. I guess there was.

My eyes widened and I reckoned I forgot how to breath let alone how to think when I caught sight of the exact opposite of what I’d been expecting. 

Oh and wasn’t that the worst word to use right then. Expecting.

A jolted knock at the door knocked me right back into reality and my wide eyes flew over towards it. I didn’t answer though, I didn’t have in me, but then the knock came again, followed by a, “B, you in there?”

Fuck, Matty. Of course it’d be Matty!

“Yeah?” I called back, voice as shaky as my legs seemed to be.

“You alright? Only, you looked a bit peaky out there, then Carls mentioned it too. Figured I’d come check.”

With trembling hands I pushed myself off of the sink and across the tiled bathroom floor, steeling myself before fiddling with the lock. “Fuck.” I muttered, shaking so severely now that I was surprised I was still standing.

“B?” Matty asked again, but I somehow managed to open the door a crack to find him stood on the other side, a pair of dark sunnies tucked into his effortless curls and his usual grin in place, although looking a tad bit wobbly. “You alright in there?”

I swallowed and before I could think better of it I said, “Get Ross.”

Matty’s expression crinkled in confusion and to be fair to him, it was a strange ask, I must’ve looked a right state, but I wasn’t asking for him or for George, I was asking after Ross.

“What? B, just let me in, will you. What’s goin’ on?”

I shook my head and held tightly onto the doorframe as though it was the only thing keeping me upright, it likely was. “I need Ross.”

The quizzical frown Matty wore only deepened but he backed up a bit, “Come on, stop being a prat. You’re acting weird, freaking me out a bit, in truth.” He chuckled faintly, obviously still conflicted, “Just let me in and we can talk, yeah?”

“Just fuck off, Matty! Call Ross, now.” I all but ordered and the surprise that fluttered through his features would’ve been surprising but I was too far gone to be paying attention to all of his many emotions when I could barely hold onto my own. “Please.”

His resolve seemed to crack at that and he looked at me for a long second before nodding swiftly, “Yeah, alright. Yeah, I’ll go get him.”

I swallowed down the choking sensation I suddenly felt crawling up my throat and nodded in reply, shutting the door before he even had the chance to run off.

“Fuck.” I hissed through my teeth, pressing my face against the bathroom door in an odd attempt to keep myself from sobbing outright.

Had I been too harsh? Matty had only wanted to help. I understood that. I did. But it was Matty, and as much as I fucking loved the daft idiot, this was not a scenario he was built for. Not at all. If I’d’ve let him in and he’d seen that test sat on the sink he’d have freaked out even worse than me. The whole house, no, the entire street would’ve known something was amiss the second he started having a mental breakdown. It was better this way.

And besides, I felt like I really needed my big brother for this one. This was real life shit, and as much as Ross and I bickered and fought, we had a relationship like no other. He was someone I’d always looked up to, someone who knew how to talk me down, to keep me grounded and centred. He had all the answers, and when he didn’t then he knew exactly what to say to sound as though he did. He’d know what to do, he’d sort it all out.

I jumped at the knock that came in that next moment, feeling the vibration buzz through my skull and only accentuating the headache I’d given myself, but still I moved towards the lock once more and was beyond grateful to just see Ross stood there, hunched a little to peek in through the gap at me with a smile.

“You called, your highness?” He remarked playfully and before I could even get the door open any further, the tears started flowing helplessly and I had to watch the way Ross entire expression went from playful to utter horror in a split second. “B, what happened?” He immediately asked, crowding against the door to shuffle in and I allowed him, watching him lock the door once more before I fell into his arms completely. 

“Shit. You’re alright, love. It’s okay.” He reassured me softly before carefully wrapping his arms around me, sheltering me from the rest of the world.

The two of us stayed like that for a while, I wasn’t sure how long in truth, enough to let the dull rock he’d started up calm me whilst listening to the faint murmuring of his voice. It was familiar and so very needed right then that I clung on tighter to the back of his shirt as I tried to muddle through my messy mind.

We pulled away soon after, though he still kept me at arms length whilst guiding us both over to the side of the small bath. Ross took a seat on its edge and I followed, thankful that he had the foresight to keep an arm wrapped around my shoulders to keep me close, otherwise I figured I might’ve slipped right into the tub.

“You wanna share with the class or am I gonna have to play a round of charades here?”

I chuckled wetly at his crap joke but it appeared to settle him a bit, being back on familiar ground.

I sniffed and smiled when a wad of tissue was shoved my way. “Ta. Sorry for um, all this. Just, I didn’t want to talk to anyone else.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, glad I could be some help.” Ross laughed, squeezing me a little tighter and assuring me that he meant it, “So, you gonna fill me in on what has you sobbing in Hann’s loo? There are burgers out there, mate, and hotdogs, fucking kebab skewers even! What’s there to moan about?”

I elbowed his side lightly, finding humour in his words just like he’d wanted. “I’m a fucking veggie, Ross.”

“Shit, yeah. Forgot about that detail.”

I rolled my eyes and then rubbed at my nose lightly, “Only known me since you were about ten, MacDonald.”

“And aren’t you grateful for it.” Ross quipped right back with a smirk, “Come on now, spill.”

I huffed and was forced to remember the terrifying detail I’d been trying to come to terms with, not that I really could. But before I could even utter a word I felt Ross go so utterly still beside me and instantly glanced back up to follow the direction of his gaze. He’d spotted it.

The world seemed to fall out from under me then, whether it was down to the realisation that he now knew too, or the fact that Ross had let go of me to grab at the stick on the sink, I didn’t know, but it was spinning and I only felt myself settle once more when Ross’s eyes finally locked on mine again.

“Ross?” I tried, attempting to gauge his reaction through a watery gaze.

He opened his mouth to speak but then quickly shut it again, glancing back down at the pregnancy test he held. Never had I ever in my life seen Ross speechless. But of course, I’d been the one to manage it.

“Ross, come on.” I gulped down a stutter, shifting on the edge of the bath as my entire body buzzed with nerves. “Say something. I need you to at least say something.”

He inhaled a large breath, big enough that it echoed off the tiles around us, before he finally looked back at me and said, “I’m not touching any of your piss right?”

I snorted in disbelief, because of course that’d be the first thing he’d say. “No, you twat, I put the lid back on.”

Ross sighed as though it was a huge relief- and I guess it was, I wouldn’t want to be touching his piss either- but I was relieved when he claimed his seat back beside me. “So, a baby huh?”

I blew out a breath and now that there was not much left to laugh about I felt a more sombre mood fall over us. “Maybe. Could be. I dunno.”

“Those are all the same answer, mate.”

Shooting him a look, Ross held up his hands and laughed lightly.

“I’m just saying, I mean, isn’t that how it works? You take a test and bish bash bosh, baby.”

With a snort I knocked into him lightly and rolled my eyes, “Sure, exactly like that.”

“You know what I mean.” He retorted, mimicking the movement before he glanced back down at the test he had yet to let go of. “Or you could take another? Just to be sure?”

I tongued at the inside of my cheek, thinking it over. I almost didn’t want to, one pregnancy test could be a fluke, but two? Even three? I’d have a fucking world class breakdown, move over Matty cause I’d definitely be taking the place as the groups most unhinged, or maybe I already was. Probably. We’d have to have a debate the next time I remembered. We liked those.

“Come on, Carls won’t mind and look,” Ross pushed, standing up and turning away from me, “I’ll even turn around so I don’t see.”

With a chuckle, I couldn’t bring myself to say no. Doing this once on my own had been hard enough, if I had to try again I don’t know what I’d do. “Alright.” I whispered and took another test from the box.

“You need me to hum or something?” Ross asked after a moment of shuffling from me. I turned the tap back on to try and cover up the sound, because I’d always been an awkward sort of pee-er. Was that even a word? But still struggled.

“Maybe. Or try the shower.”

“What like turning it on?” I could hear the frown in his voice.

“No, get in it, dickhead. Yes, I meant turn it on!”

“Fucking hell.” He muttered under his breath as he moved to do so, “Hope the baby doesn’t get your patience.”

I tossed the empty box at his back, “Don’t say that!”

The fucking prick laughed.

“Alright, alright! Go on. I can’t hear anything now.”

Thankfully, that big bottle Carly had given me as well as the one I’d been nursing in the car and then outside came into clutch then and I managed to go again.

I flushed and washed my hands, drying them off on the hand towel before telling Ross he could turn back around.

“How long do we wait then?” He questioned from over my shoulder, making me jump.

Stilling my racing heart, I let out a breath. “Two minutes or so.”

Ross hummed from behind me then moved to the side to wrap me up in his arms again, it was nice having someone there this time around, like finding shelter in a rainstorm. 

And so we waited. The seconds felt eternal and the minutes passed excruciatingly slow, but eventually, eventually, we had to look.

I bit my lip. “I can’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“Why the fuck not, he asks! I’m fucking terrified, Ross. I can’t be a mum! I hardly even a person, let alone an actual adult!” I stressed, breathing heavier now that even I noticed it, but Ross only pulled me closer and looked down at me.

“You’re incredible. You hear me? You’ve looked after us lot for years, so I know you’ll fucking ace this shit without even having to try. You’re brilliant, B. Everyone who’s ever met you can tell you as much. If you’re pregnant, then you’ll deal with it like you do everything. But you won’t be doing it alone. You’ve got us. You’ve got a family. And most of all, you’ve got G. He’d do anything for you. A baby will only solidify that. Do you really think he’d leave you high and dry?” He must’ve seen the look that crossed my face when he said that because he blinked, “You do, don’t you?”

“It’s not- I’m-” I stuttered, unable to really defend myself against that statement because a small part of me was scared of exactly that. “I love him, Ross. I do. I just-”

“You’re scared it’ll be like before.” He finished for me and all I could do was nod and he squeezed me a little tighter, “Well, I know that he won’t. Wouldn’t fucking survive it, the idiot. Last time was a fluke. And as much as he hurt you, you know it was his fault for not dealing with his shit, not yours. Never yours. Yeah?”

I nodded again against his chest.

“G won’t leave though, that I can promise you. But, and this is a BIG but, if he did, you’d have me, and you’d have Matty, and Hann and Carly. Denise and Delia and everyone else. You wouldn’t be alone. Never, ever will you be alone, B.”

My eyes were stinging again, “But what if I’m not good enough either? What if I leave? What if I’m exactly like her?”

Her.

And immediately Ross knew just who I was talking about.

“You’re nothing like your mum, love. No where near. Of that I can fucking assure you. You love with everything you’ve got. Like a light house in a stormy sea, you. Lure just about everyone in with your warmth and charm.” He pressed his chin to the top of my head, rocking us again. “What I would give to let you see yourself through my eyes. I swear. And that baby, or any future baby you have, will be the luckiest kid around to be able to call you their mum. Alright?”

Fucking Ross MacDonald. 

“Do you enjoy making me cry?” I asked him through a wet chuckle, squinting up at him now with tear stained cheeks. I gave a sigh when he reached up to wipe them away.

“Only happy tears, yeah? Fucking seeing you cry because of anything else makes me feel like I’ve just been hit by a bus.”

Scoffing out a laugh I couldn’t help, I shook my head at him. “Love you. I know we don’t say that much but I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

He grinned down at me, “Probably sob in the bath, or maybe make an escape out through the window?”

“Maybe.” I smiled.

“You ready yet?”

I chewed on my lip for a hesitant moment then dipped my head, Ross released me and instead took my hand. We both seemed to simultaneously take a deep breath, glancing at one another and then the sink.

“Together?”

“Together.”

He reached for it and I had to keep myself from squeezing my eyes tightly shut, stomach tightening with the butterflies that crowded my insides.

We looked down at the same time before glancing back towards each other.

Ross broke the silence, “Dibs on being godfather.”

— GEORGE’S POV—

September brought the cold. It was more prominent this year though it seemed, barely out of August and already he was in a hat and coat. Still, he’d left knowing he’d be out for quite a while and didn’t want to catch something from freezing his arse off, especially with Birdie being in and out of hospital. She was more susceptible to infection at the minute, since having had her spleen removed after the accident it had been something she’d often struggled with. They’d had a meningitis scare not too long back, big enough to warrant a couple weeks off work but not life threatening. To her at least, George on the other hand had had his balls pulled out through his arse, or that’s what it’d felt like being so constantly on edge. Everything turned out okay in the end though, more than even. Because it was then that he’d learnt about the tiny Baby Daniel she’d been housing.

And what a fucking thought that was. A baby. An entire other person. Both his and hers to keep. Though he only hoped that they got more of her than him.

It had been quite the revelation, watching on as a swarm of nurses wheeled his wife off on a gurney after having just told him the baby was doing fine. Even now it had a way of rendering him utterly speechless.

It was all he’d been able to think about ever since. Will the baby like the colour blue? Will they be a boy, or a girl? Will they have his eyes or hers, her smile or his? He prayed to whatever God that was out there that they only got her nose. Birdie thought his suited him, but he’d keep on wishing any way.

There’d also been the questions that shone a bright sodding stage-light on all of his insecurities. Illuminated them like the Blackpool Tower for every fucker else to see. Matty’d been the first to clock on though, or the first to come and speak to him about it, it’d done him a world of wonder to get it off his chest and have that reassurance, but even now it continued to make him nervous, had him wondering whether or not he’d ever be good enough, if he deserved to have something so precious of his own. But then he’d always struggled with that, hadn’t he, and he was still learning. Adapting, in a sense. These things took time.

He continued to think about it though, about everything which surrounded the baby, as he wandered through a field of dew covered grass, being respectful enough of the aging stone graves that dotted the cemetery as he went. The one he was looking for was further in the back, settled in a plot next to a few others with the same surname.

George took the time to think and settle his nervous thoughts as he made his way on over, revising the map on his phone every few minutes. It was a rather large cemetery, with oversized oak trees and moss that clung to ancient tombs and mausoleums, so it took him a while to finally find it but when he did the nerves he’d been feeling and the anxiety he’d expected failed to hinder him. In fact, he hardly felt anything at all and moved towards the three graves without much thought.

They each bared the same headstone, only difference was that one was much newer than the remaining two. They all had their own inscriptions but it had been a little while since he’d last visited and so he took the time to allow his eyes to wander over the cursive.

‘No Man Is Indispensable But Some Are Irreplaceable.’

‘Too well loved to ever be forgotten, here lies a loving Father, a Husband and a Son.'

And finally, 

‘A woman made of strength and love lies here, today she dances with angels.’

“Heya, Nana.” George greeted in a low murmur, eyes already a little wet as he drew closer to the end plot, “It’s been a while but I’ve brought you your favourites, peonies from Birdie’s shop, blue just like your eyes. She wrapped them up real nice too, but when does she ever not?” George gave a light chuckle at that, placing down the backpack he held and moving around the grave to clear it of any fallen debris, replacing the old flowers with the new.

He rubbed at his nose and stuffed his hands into his coat pockets before taking a seat by her headstone, gaze lingering on the words Birdie had chosen alongside Dee all those years ago now. Dancing with angels, he grinned at the very thought, and dealing with the Devil, he added. Nana had always been one to try her luck, just as wonderfully wild as her granddaughter, and George reckoned she’d probably bested the hellish bastard by now, overthrown him and all.

“Lot’s changed, you know.” He told the woman, “Dee’s met some fella, handsome bloke mind, but they’ve taken her taxi and decided to travel across Europe in it. In Germany now, though I wouldn’t be surprised if they phoned us up tomorrow claiming to be in Egypt. But you know her, she’s a free spirit. Should be back by February though, that’s just before the baby’s due. Yeah, not hers though- could you imagine?” 

George couldn’t help the cackle that escaped him at that and was immensely grateful for the fact that no-one else seemed to be wandering around anywhere close. “Sorry, sorry, but yeah. No it’s Birdie. She’s nearing fourteen weeks now. Can you picture it? Us two with a little one. My dad can’t wait, neither can the lads. Reckon you’d be dancing about too if you were still here, telling everyone to quit their fussing then make B a brew just how she likes.”

He let a quiet settle, smiling softly as the morning breeze flittered past.

“I know she misses you. Kills her to not have you here to see it all. But,” He took a moment, “I understand why, never met anyone quite like you, doubt I ever will. You took me in without a care for the consequences. Let me stay with you each summer, listened to me moan on about the band and music, came to our first few London gigs.” He cracked a smile at the reminder, “Can still picture those shirts you and Dee made, reckon B has them stashed away somewhere. Have to ask. But as much as I’d love to stay and chat all day, I promised myself I’d say hi to Charlie over there and stop by to talk to her Dad for a bit.”

George was careful as he stood back up, laying a hand over Nana’s name before wiping off the damp grass which clung to his jeans and stepping away. 

He only had to walk a few short steps before he was grinning at the grave sat beside Nana’s, he made quick work of pulling out a bottle of Scotch from his bag as well as a shot glass, then placed them both down on the cold marble. Just as he did each time they visited, he poured the man a hearty glass and spoke to him about his favourite football team. “Hiya, Charlie. West Ham’s fourth on the league table at the minute, mate. Doing alright this year, but Cities still in first so, guess they’ll have to try just a bit harder.”

With a light laugh, George patted the man’s headstone before finally wandering over to the next, to where Birdie’s father lay, the man she idolised most.

He took a deep breath feeling a little fearful suddenly, but not of the situation, rather of disappointing the man. Of this whole thing going tits up. But this was something he’d wanted. Felt he needed to do. So he let go of the air inside his lungs and, just as he did by Nana, he took a seat by the man’s grave. 

“We’ve never spoken much, you and I.” He begun, voice quieter now than it had just been, “But I know B visits when she can. I brought you a bird actually, little statue thing with these stones embedded in its eyes, B reckons they’ll bring peace, but I think you’ve already found that now. Still, it reminds me of her, a Song Thrush, they’re pretty and sing like a poet.”

Leaning in closer, George took time placing the statue where he thought it would last the longest and smiled softly before going back to his bag to pull out a colourful wind spinner, he stuck in the damp soil near his leg before he spoke again. 

“Dee also likes to talk about you, says you had a thing for wind chimes and these things. Can see the appeal, they’re nice to watch, let you know which way the wind’ll blow. Said you also would’ve liked me too, and I can only hope she’s right.” He laughed quietly to himself, thumbing the ring on his left hand. “Be a bit messy if you didn’t though, ‘cause I love her more than anything. Do anything she asks, go anywhere she pleases. She’s like my own little wind spinner in a sense, can never tell which way I’m going with her but I know we’ll never stop spinning.

“I know I should’ve made this trip a long while ago. Maybe after we got back, maybe even before that. I have no excuse except for the fact that I’ve been a bit scared to ask this of you, because I know I’ll never really hear your honest answer. I can only pray that you’d be happy for her.”

It had been something he’s wanted to do since he was a teenager, ever since that first trip down to London, but after all these years of having clung to the man’s lighter he felt like he sort of knew him in a way. Knew that the dent in its side was from the way he used to knock his hip off of the radiator back in Nana’s house when climbing the stairs. Saw the way the striker wheel had been changed a long while back, different to the original but very very close. And how the hinge had been struck a few times to keep the lid from going floppy. He cared a great deal for the things he owned and it showed how much he loved the gifts he’d been given, seeing as though he had gotten it from his own father before Birdie had ever been born.

It was a strange concept, but it brought George a little peace.

“I don’t know if you heard, I know that Nana tends to gossip, but you’ll be a grandfather soon.” George told him with a wide smile as he pulled to his wallet to look down at the first Ultrasound picture they’d been given. “They’re a lot bigger now. This was when I first found out though. That daughter of yours had known for a week or two by that point. But I was over the moon and also terrified, so I can see how she kept it under wraps for so long. We’ve got a few names going in the raffle, our friends all want to have the honour of naming them, but B and I are waiting for the perfect one.”

George let his thumb brush over the picture before he sat it up and open on the grave, leaving it there until he had to go.

“I’ve known Birdie for so long now, she doesn’t know it but since the day I laid eyes on her she’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I would’ve taken anything she’d have given me. Whether that’d been a passing look or a chance at just being her mate. So when were younger and finally together, I thought I’d won the lottery. And I had. But then we got to speaking about marriage. What we wanted in the future, if kids would ever come into the picture, what house we’d buy. Just things you speak about with someone like that. Yeah, we’d been young but we’d both been through a lot. We knew more than most. Had experienced it.

“But anyway, when she’d said she never wanted any of that. Couldn’t see it for herself, and I understood. Broke my fucking heart a bit, but I’d’ve given her the stars if I could’ve. Even now. So it’s funny how it all changed. We’re married and there’s that baby on the way. Though, now that we’ve done it, now that we’ve acknowledged the fact that this thing we were both a little wary of is something we can have without the fear and terror, I want to do it properly, you know? So I thought it was only respectful to come and ask you first.”

And there was that nervousness finally, but it was out in the open now. Perhaps it was silly asking a man long since buried this question but it just felt right. 

“I don’t think we’ll have big ceremony or anything even if she does say yes, we’re not the type. But at least then we can say we did it right, and as much as I now love that little elopement of ours, I really want her to know how much I love her. That I will forever be hers. In both heart and mind. And that I’m proud to bare this ring.” 

George swallowed thickly at the onslaught of emotions this trip had pulled from him, then wiped under his nose. He picked up his wallet and folded it away then took his stand, running a hand through his hair as he tried to get ahold of himself, didn’t want to start sobbing his way back to the carpark now. Though it was a near thing. 

“Right, I’d best be off anyway. Said I’d pick B up some strawberries from the market, she’ll only eat them at the minute, pairs them with this horrid jam as well. It’s proper grim but I’d never say a bad thing about it. Spent ages consoling her the one time Matty did. But he’s a nightmare that never learns.” He scratched at the nape of his neck after having shouldered his bag, feeling the effects of this outing already. “I’ll make sure to visit soon, with Birdie and then the baby too hopefully.”

He glanced down at the wind spinner then and was surprised to see it had stopped spinning, he frowned slightly at the sight and double checked to see if he could still feel the breeze, he did, it was hard not to in truth. So slowly he made his way back over and just as he begun to crouch down the thing started spinning once more.

George blinked down at it, once then twice, and then simply laughed. Hoping that maybe it’d been some sort of sign.

“I’ll look after her.” He promised, sparing one last glance to the final grave before he made his way back to the car.

—

The moving van reached the house long before I did, but I was just thankful that George had been able to take the time off to get there earlier than me. I parked up in a bay and waddled down the pavement to peer into the back of it, smiling when I found that almost half of it had already been moved inside. Which was good for me, seeing as though I’d hardly be of any help, pregnant or not.

“B!” I heard someone shout out and turned to find Matty stood on the top step of the familiar terraced house, he waved me closer but jogged down the steps to greet me once I’d made it over, “Figured you get here a little later, G and I are just setting up the living room.” 

“Really?” I questioned in surprise, grateful when he took my arm to help me up the stairs and into the house. I grinned at the familiar feeling that washed over me upon walking in.

“Really.” Matty laughed, taking my coat and hanging it amongst the rest by the door. The little gentleman. If I’d only known that it’d just take me turning into a whale to get Matty to wait on me hand and foot I’d’ve done it sooner. Not even G was as bad as him. “Your Nana had good taste though, so I can see why you and George don’t wanna change much.”

I grinned, glad that he saw it too. We’d been gifted the house in Bethnal Green by Dee after the reading of Nana’s will, she wanted us to have a proper home for the little one and figured it would be the best place for us. And my God was it. It was everything I’d dreamed of and more. It filled me with so much happiness to know that my child would be growing up in the environment I loved most when I’d been little.

“Where is he, anyway?” I asked, leaning against the bannister to peer up the main stairs and at the landing, we’d had some builders in to change a few things since the house had been signed over and I hadn’t yet seen it all fully finished. 

“Who, G?” Matty said and at my nod he went on, “Left him in the living room, we were trying to put together a cabinet, probably still in there.”

We both chuckled and wandered in through the side door to find George sat on the living room floor just behind the sofa looking very close to fuming. “Fuck sake, Matty! When you said a minute, I thought you were joking! Whole fucking thing collapsed on me the second you left, you prick!”

“Oi, no swearing around the baby, please.” Matty scolded, though he looked all too pleased with himself, and I watched on as George angled his head further backwards to see me stood in the doorway. I waved. 

“Birdie! Thank fuck someone capable has arrived. Be a love and help me up, would you?”

I laughed and moved to do just that before Matty’s indignant squark stopped me in my tracks, “I don’t think so, mate. Get yourself up. I’ll take B into the kitchen, get you some tea, yeah? Were you at the shop long?”

I bit my lip to keep from cackling at the expression that overwhelmed G’s face then but was already being dragged away.

“I can still do shit you know.” I said to Matty before being steered onto a barstool, I let him get away with it though, observing how effortlessly he worked his way around the kitchen, switching on the kettle and pulling out the milk from the massive fridge George had insisted on buying. 

“Language.” Matty reminded me and I could only roll my eyes, “And I know, you just shouldn’t have to.”

“That so?” I hummed around a smile.

Matty nodded, pulling the few glasses we’d brought over for visits during construction onto the counter, “Look, the way I see it, the baby’s not here yet so if you want, I don’t mind offing G and telling everyone the kid’s mine. I mean, you saw him in there,” He shook his head all serious like, “It ain’t on, B. Got to cut your loses while you still can.”

“Sorry, what was that?” I sorted at George’s sudden arrival, wondering how this would all go down and decided to stir the pot a bit.

“Matty reckons I’d be better off making a run for it while I still can, already got a car ready and waiting for when I say the word.”

George shook his head in veiled amusement and stepped further into the kitchen to swipe a tea towel against Matty’s backside. “Keep talking like that and I’ll see to it that you never meet my baby, you dick.”

“Swearing!” Matty once again reminded the pair of us and I couldn’t help my incessant giggling now, eyes darting back and forth between the pair, “And I dare you to try, George Daniel. I have rights!”

“What rights!”

“Godfatherly rights!”

“Fuck off, Ross claimed that already.”

“Swearing! And I don’t care you can have more than one godfather!”

“No, we’ve discussed this already.”

“No we have not.”

“Yes, we have.”

“No, we have not.”

“Matty.”

“George!”

George groaned dramatically and decidedly tossed the tea towel he still had in hand at Matty’s head, the curly haired singer grunted before throwing it right back at him, then turning to me.

“B, tell him.” He was all but whining now. 

“George, Matty can be whatever he likes.”

Matty practically beamed upon hearing that whilst G just scowled, “Over my dead body.”

“That’s fine. I can make do.”

George rolled his eyes at the blatant threat, but threw himself into the chair beside me to press his forehead against the counter instead of replying. I ran a hand through his hair.

“It’s okay, babe. He’ll give up once he realises it’ll mostly just be shitty nappies and crying until they’re old enough to walk.” I reassured but Matty didn’t think much of it.

“I fucking won’t.”

George shot straight back up at that with a grin as big as Matty’s ego on his face and I already knew what he was going to say.

“Language, Matthew! And in front of your godchild too, shame.”

Although Matty looked shocked to have let the curse accident slip, his whole demeanour changed when he truly internalised George’s words. “Wait, actually?”

George laughed, glancing at me before slinging an arm around my waist, “We decided on it a while ago, mate. Baby Daniel will have the typical four godparents, only thing is you, Hann and Ross will have to decide between yourselves on who’s the second godmother.”

I rolled my eyes at that, but still found myself unable to stop grinning. The baby was set to have three godfathers at this point and then Carly, who we’d already asked, as a godmother. It was a lucky little thing and had yet to even be born.

“I don’t even care. I’ll throw on a pair of tits and a wig if it gets me an in.”

George barked a loud laugh at his best mate’s reply and I could only chuckle alongside him as Matty handed me over my tea, grateful to have them both, as well as the rest of my family. It wasn’t long now either before the baby would soon come along too, another thing I’d forever be grateful for.

And to think, I barely resembled the girl I’d once been, it was strange to see all that I’d been given.

I wouldn’t waste it.

#the 1975 #george daniel #george daniel the 1975 #george daniel fic #george 1975 #george daniel x reader #matty #matty healy #george daniel x you #1975 #best friend matty #the 1975 band #fic #adam hann #ross macdonald #carly holt #1975 band #matty 1975 #series #work #exes to lovers #y/n #reader #multi part fic #x you #x reader #angst #fluff #humour #drama

[pepperonidk]

i. the gentle indifference of the world || all my love

"I opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world." - The Stranger; Albert Camus

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x f!Reader Summary:  He's cool, smart, attractive... and completely out of your league. But that won't stop you from falling head over heels for him. Warnings: none Word Count: (i’ll be right by ur side till) 3005 A/N: i've rewritten this chapter like 6 times bc i was so nervous but uh it's finally out in the world heyooo. can anyone guess what anime this was based off?

take a look at my pinned post to see how to join the aml taglist! back to library || next chapter

If you had listened to the rational voice in your head when your dad broke the news to you, you wouldn’t be in this situation.

If you had started making a list of things to pack, if you had called either of your two best friends immediately after, if you decided to be sane for 12 minutes, you wouldn’t be in this situation.

However, hindsight is 20/20, but in terms of foresight? You shouldn’t be allowed near the driver’s seat of any vehicle. Because instead of making any of the simple rational decisions after your father mentioned the possibility of moving across the country, you chose to sit down at your desk and write a letter. Fountain pen in hand and a candle burning beside you, for 12 minutes you were a character in a Jane Austen novel. Probably Lydia Bennett of all people, but a Jane Austen character nonetheless.

And that letter was how you found yourself in this situation – mortified and surrounded by whispers and stares, but worst of all, the icy glare of Jeon Wonwoo was fixed on the pretty pink card in your hands.

A simple “no thanks,” and that was it, but why did it feel like time stopped? One word was enough to crumble your fragile heart and you froze right in place. It wasn’t until you felt a pair of arms wrap around you that you began to breathe again, and blood rushed back into your brain enough for you to see Wonwoo turn the corner and disappear.

Once you finally felt your heartbeat return to normal, you looked around to see the empty classroom you were in and you let out a sigh.

“You ready to tell us what just happened?” one concerned voice asked. Seokmin’s voice was always gentle, always cheerful, usually loud, but the softness in his tone this time tipped you over the edge and you felt the sting of fresh tears in your eyes. He knelt down to look you in the eye as your other friend, Mingyu, helped you to sit at a desk.

Another sigh and you finally began to explain. “My dad said we might be moving in a couple of weeks,” you started, feeling your heart sink at the looks of hurt on your friends’ faces. “So I guess part of me panicked and I decided to tell Wonwoo how I felt.”

Now it was Mingyu’s turn to let out a sigh. The ever rational, ever charming Mingyu, who could see the end of any problem. His sigh was not out of pity, but out of frustration. “You know you could’ve called us right? We could’ve talked this through, came up with a better way to do this.” You knew that Mingyu and Seokmin would not have let you go through with the idea if you had called, but you appreciated the fact that he didn’t say that.

“I know,” you began to argue. “But I don’t know, part of me… hoped he would say yes.” You didn’t miss the way Mingyu and Seokmin’s eyes went wide as you mumbled the end of your sentence. “At least anything but whatever the hell happened today.”

You knew Mingyu was holding himself back. In his head he runs through every scenario before he acts, actually somewhat calculating underneath his laid-back exterior. He knew this was the most likely scenario, but he would never tell you that, so he lets out a sigh instead and turns his attention to the math equations written on the whiteboard. 

Seokmin on the other hand was a reactor. His heart was on his sleeve and his anger at seeing his best friend upset was clear in his furrowed eyebrows and shaky voice. “I just don’t get why you keep wasting your time on him,” he confessed. “He’s too dense for his own good and he’s not particularly nice either. He’s smart academically, but stupid in every other way. He’s really not worth it.”

Mingyu turned around, surprised at Seokmin’s outburst. “Seokmin,” he called out. “Aren’t you friends with him?”

Seokmin scoffed in response. “What about it?” he answered back. “You guys are stupid too, but we’re still friends.” A beat of silence passed as the three of you stared at each other, unblinking, before laughter broke the stillness. It was moments like this that made you pause to appreciate the two boys you called your best friends. Although life had its ups and downs, the downs never lasted long, not when you had two loving friends to pull you right back up.

You stood up, a renewed sense of pride and determination filling you up. “You’re right Seokmin,” you exclaimed and Seokmin gave you a thumbs up in return. “Boys are stupid.” Mingyu and Seokmin shared a shocked look.

“Well that’s not–” Seokmin began to protest.

“I’m not stupid,” Mingyu started a little too loudly and boldly. “I wouldn’t have turned you down.” 

He finished his sentence softly as he watched you walk out of the classroom door. Seokmin placed a comforting arm around Mingyu’s shoulders. “I wouldn’t have turned you down either Mingyu,” he teased as Mingyu shoved him to the side.

Despite your renewed sense of pride, the quietness of your study period left you too much time to think and you found yourself lost in a sense of nostalgia as you sat at a table in the library.

The first time you met Wonwoo was still painted clear as day in your mind. 

You were a freshman searching for solace amidst the chaos of high school on the first day and you had found yourself in the library. Until now, it was a place of peace for you, but especially so on that first day. 

Running your fingers along the aisles of books, you found one that you wanted to read. The Stranger, by Albert Camus, sitting right at the top shelf, pushed just a little too far back for you to be able to wiggle it out. You let out a sigh, and rolled up your sleeve, embarrassed that your next plan of attack was to climb the shelf to be able to reach the book. You braced yourself, shutting your eyes and taking a deep breath, when a baritone chuckle snapped you out of your thoughts. 

You had opened your eyes to see an arm  reaching past you to grab a book off the shelf– your book. In your head you cursed his long legs and arms, but as you met eyes with the boy, you felt your heart sink down to your toes and shoot right back up and suddenly you didn’t want to read a book that was so nihilist anymore. Meursault may not have found it, but love suddenly became something that mattered.

He handed the book in your direction and you had to force your attention to his words and away from his face. “Were you trying to get this?” he asked.

“Huh?” you blinked before looking down at the book you were no longer interested in. “Oh, yeah, I was but, I don’t know if I want to read it anymore.”

He hummed and nodded in response as he inspected the book. “The Stranger,” He read. “Is it good?” 

“Yeah, if you’re into stories about life having no meaning,” you explained, suddenly flustered at the way he seemed to take your words seriously.

“I see,” he replied. “Then do you think life has no meaning? It seemed like you wanted this book pretty badly.” The weight of his question startled you as you tried to stammer out a response but before you could get anything significant out, his watch beeped and he was already turning his back to you. “Thanks for the book recommendation,” he called back, waving the book in the air.

That day, Wonwoo stole not only your book, but your affections. 

For the next four years of your life, you found yourself loving him from a distance. You’d see him in the hallways, in class, but you could never bring yourself to say anything to him and you resigned yourself to this distance. It was lonely, but it was safe, and that was good enough for you… until today.

Now, after breaking that distance, you wished you never did. It was easier to never know how he felt about you, to be in love with the memory you had of him rather than be crushed by reality. 

The final bell finally rang and you were more than ready to head home. Outside the quiet bubble of the library, the school was cheering, the drumline playing in the main hall and everyone shouting cheers to the football team, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to celebrate your senior homecoming game with the rest of the school. Instead you found Seokmin and Mingyu and made your way home.

“Welcome home!” 

The sound of your father’s voice filled you with warmth as soon as he opened the door, the joy in his greeting briefly making you forget the events of the day. He wrapped you in a tight embrace, still smelling of spices from his day spent at the restaurant, and led you and your friends into the house. 

Once inside, your dad gave your friends a confused look. “Isn’t tonight your last homecoming game? Shouldn’t you be at the game?” He questioned as the three of you kicked off your shoes and set your backpacks down by the door.

Seokmin looked over to you as he answered, “Nah,” he replied with an easy smile. “The real party is here.” Your dad let out a hearty laugh in response, which the three of you mirrored. 

“I had made way too much dinner for just the two of us, so it’s perfect that you guys are here,” your dad put his arms around Seokmin and Mingyu who cheered in response.

“Well, once I found out you were making the world’s best lasagna, how could I not invite myself over?” Mingyu said. The way your dad beamed back at Mingyu made both you and Seokmin chuckle. Mingyu was both an extremely talented chef as well as an extremely talented eater, and your dad absolutely adored him for it. He was always welcome to the family dinner.

“Careful, dad,” you chimed in. “Between Mingyu and Seokmin, there might not be any left for the two of us.” Your dad laughed in response as Mingyu rolled his eyes and Seokmin nodded. As you settled into the table, you realized your dad wasn’t exaggerating at all when he said he made way too much dinner. The table was lined with lasagna, roasts, vegetables, and lots of side dishes, enough for a feast. “What’s the occasion dad?” You asked as you looked around the table, trying to decide what to eat first. 

Your dad set his silverware down before explaining. “Well,” he began. “To be honest, I felt somewhat bad.” 

“About what?” you asked, your mouth full of lasagna. 

Your dad chuckled as he continued, passing you a napkin. “As I’m sure you’ve explained to your friends,” he gestured to Mingyu and Seokmin. “I accepted the offer to help start the new restaurant. I thought about it some more, and I felt bad that you would have to uproot your whole life right at the end of high school.”

You looked at him, urging him to continue.

“So I contacted my friend from college, the one I meet with for lunch sometimes, and he said that his son also goes to the same school as you and since they have a spare room, he’s offering to take you in for the year.” 

“No shit,” Mingyu exclaimed in response as Seokmin nudged him under the table, giving him a look reminding him to keep his foul language to himself, but your dad just laughed it off.

“That means I get to stay right?” You squealed. “I don’t have to leave?”

“Yes, that’s true,” your dad confirmed. “But it’s only for the year. At the end of your school year, you can move up with me, or if everything goes really well, I’ll be back home early.” He let out a sigh of relief at seeing the way the three of your faces lit up. Ever since you were little, you, Mingyu and Seokmin had been inseparable. You would walk to school and back home together, you would have sleepovers and every meal was spent together. Your dad felt that tearing you away from them right before you would have to separate for college anyway was cruel. 

He cleared his throat as he continued. “I know the situation isn’t ideal, and that you’ll probably miss me so so so much,” he teased. “But I know you’ll be in good hands while I’m away.” He smiled fondly at the two boys sitting around the table who were looking at you with nothing but adoration in their eyes.

The rest of dinner went by quietly. Polite talk here and there, but an overwhelming effort to avoid discussing your father’s move, which was at the end of the week, settled among the four of you. It wasn’t until after dinner, after Seokmin had to go home, that you finally got to process your feelings with Mingyu who stayed behind to help clean up.

“Gyu, you really didn’t have to stay,” You sighed as you leaned against the counter beside him as he turned on the faucet in the sink. “I don’t mind doing the dishes.”

He gave you the same winning smile that he gave your father earlier. “Please,” he began. “It’s the least I could do… you’ve had a long day.” He cocked his eyebrow at you, reminding you of the unopened note that now lay on top of your desk in your room. “How are you feeling?”

You grabbed a dish towel, helping Mingyu dry the dishes he washed, not wanting to meet his eyes. “Like a salad.” Mingyu turned to you with a confused chuckle, waiting for you to elaborate. “I feel so many things right now but I can’t really condense it all into one thing.”

Mingyu hummed thoughtfully before continuing. “Okay, well what’s the lettuce right now? The biggest thing you’re feeling.”

“Hmm…” you thought. “Sad, that my dad is leaving. I’ve never been away from him that long.” 

“Okay, what about the chicken?” You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, appreciating the way Mingyu ran with your simile.

“The chicken… Happy.” You finally gave Mingyu a small smile. “Happy that I get to stay here with you and Seokmin.”

Mingyu smiled back at you. “I’m happy about that too. How are we supposed to be a trio if it’s just me and Seokmin?” 

You rolled your eyes playfully as you swatted his arm with the dish towel. “Gyu, you and Seokmin have enough personality for 13 people. I’m sure you would have found a way.”

He pouted in return, rubbing his arm where you swatted him before slipping back into a smile. “Not true, but whatever,” he relented. He was glad that the trio would remain a trio, but it got him thinking about what the future holds for the three of you. College was never really something you all had discussed in depth. Mostly just vague hypotheticals about what decorations to get for the apartment you’ll share and the kind of classes you’ll all take together. But in every future he could imagine, the three of you were always together.

After that night, the rest of the week passed by in a messy and teary blur, with Mingyu and Seokmin coming over every day to help you pack. Well, “help” was a strong word. They mostly sat on your bed and looked through your knick knacks while asking for snacks. They were also very unhelpful at trying to convince you to “Marie Kondo” your room, as they called it.

Seokmin tried convincing you that maybe you should leave your giant stuffed avocado behind, to which you adamantly argued against because he won it for you at the school carnival last year. Mingyu asked why you still kept your report card from fifth grade in a treasure chest, to which you responded by showing him the teacher’s notes, “Had to separate her from Mingyu and Seokmin. They distract each other and draw pictures on their math homework. Always laughing and smiling in class :)”

Going through your whole room with them was a lot less embarrassing than you had expected, and by the end of the week, you were ready to go with only the essentials packed. Mingyu and Seokmin came to see you off, helping your dad pack your things into the car and they each gave you a big hug before letting you go.

Your dad laughed at the scene, watching the three of you get teary eyed even though you would still see each other every day at school. But when he finally drove off and saw you looking wistfully out the window, he felt a pang in his chest and it reminded him how much he’s going to miss you as well. 

The drive was fun as it always was with your dad, but as he parked in front of a huge house in a very wealthy neighborhood, the grin on your face grew even more. The homes in this neighborhood were much bigger than your own, and you figured you should enjoy yourself while you’re here. Your dad took your hand as the two of you walked to the front door of his college buddy’s home, telling you a silly story about their adventures together in university.

“Oh, I’m so excited you get to meet him,” your dad exclaimed as he rang the bell. “I heard his son is actually in your grade, so maybe you already know him.”

You looked at your dad curiously. “What’s his name?” 

But before your dad could respond, the door swung open to reveal none other than–

“Wonwoo.” 

#caratwritersclub #wonwoo #seventeen #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo angst #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo scenarios #jeon wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo imagines #svt #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #wonwoo x yn #wonwoo x reader #seventeen wonwoo #svt wonwoo

[rfxiii]

Michael meeting Mrs. Philips for the first time

(This is my first attempt at writing an actual story, so I’m sorry if it sucks 😬 kinda tired so I apologize for any spelling errors)

(Tw: parental abuse, mentions of drug usage, Trevor’s mom)

(2078 words)

It’s early afternoon when Trevor calls him out of the blue sounding almost chillingly sober. He asks to meet at the local diner, a casual invitation for lunch despite the fact that his voice is trembling like he’s terrified to tears.

Michael agrees to the proposition, if only out of curiosity as to what has his friend so worked up; he knows Trevor well enough to sense the turmoil in every syllable of the offer.

They agree to meet up in about an hour and half, and Michael wonders to himself why they’re waiting; it’s only about a fifteen minute drive away from Michael’s house, and it’s not like Trevor ever has any actual plans or real business to attend to. So, what are they waiting for? But he waits the hour and a half without argument, deals with all of the questions and irritation from Amanda, assures her this will just be a simple lunch meet up, and heads out.

If only he’d had the foresight to know what would be waiting for him at the diner.

Trevor is outside when Michael pulls up, pacing the dusty parking lot so thoroughly that he’s worn a path into the packed gravel. He looks sober, but still utterly frazzled and wide eyed; he’s wearing cheap clothes masquerading as fancy attire and he looks out of place for the low key, local eatery, he smells like he’s doused himself in gas station cologne, and he’s sweating through his dollar store stick deodorant with the vigor of man who’d just finished a triathlon. And when he looks up and sees Michael approaching him, Trevor looks like he may just cry in relief.

“What’s goin’ on T? Not that I don’t appreciate a normal day out, but you look, well-.. Yeah.”

Trevor’s chest is heaving, and he’s looking Michael over like he’s picking apart any little discrepancy in his attire, before giving a shaky huff,

“Nothin’, nothin’. I can’t just ask ya out without it bein’ a thing? Come on, Mikey..”

“Cut the bullshit, T.” Michael replies, a hand shoving itself absently into his jacket pocket to produce his cigarettes.

“Wait, wait, wait! Don’t light that!” Trevor practically yelps, snatching away the cigarette and flicking it into the dirt,

“She’d hate that.. She’d think it was me. She hates it when I smoke..”

Michael tilts his head, mind boggled as to who Trevor could be referring to; wondering who on earth could have Trevor Philips caring about how he’s perceived,

“The fuck? Who’re you talkin’ about? Why are we here, Trevor?”

“Uhm-… She called this morning,.. I dunno how she found me, she always finds me… My-.. My mother is in town. She wanted me to have lunch with her, and-.. I think she’d like you.. You got your house, Mandy, you’re gonna have a baby. Maybe it’ll show her I’ve..got good friends now, that I’m tryin’ to do good for myself..”

Michael fights back a full on laugh, but a grin still manages to wiggle its way onto his lips as the ghost of a chuckles breathes from his lungs,

“Your mom? That’s what’s got you all riled up? Your mother is coming to visit?”

It seems such a funny thing- he’d known Trevor for nearly five years now, and in the last half decade he’d never given a second thought about another person's opinion of him before, so to see him so panicked about what his mother was going to feel about how he’d been spending his life was a genuinely funny concept to Michael.

“It’s not funny! She’s-.. She-..” Trevor hesitates, almost unsure of how to describe his feelings,

“She’s an angel! I shouldn’t have even made her come out here! She-.. She deserves to go someplace nicer, and I just wanna make her proud, Mikey! That’s not so funny, is it?!”

“Woah..” Michael huffs out, his smile falling as he restrains himself from more laughter,

“Calm down, T. It’s all cool. I don’t..get it, but I get that this is important to you.”

Michael pockets his pack of cigarettes, leaning back on the hood of Trevor’s car as they wait- letting Trevor go back to his pacing. He’d heard Trevor talk about his mother a few times, only briefly. He’d been utterly vocal about his hatred for his father, about the incident with the shopping mall. But when he spoke of his mother it was like he was talking about a concept or an idol he’d never be close enough to touch- she was an angel, she was perfect, she was the light of his life and she’d always struggled so hard for him.

Michael didn’t quite understand this. His relationship with his father and mother had both been just bordering on terrible. So the thought of Trevor getting so bent out of shape in an effort to impress his mom was a bit of a crazy concept. But really, Michael wasn’t clear on all the details of Trevor’s childhood, and had no idea the kind of relationship a person who actually likes their mother would have. So, maybe he was just being biased.

A cab pulls in minutes later, setting Trevor instantly on edge as he stops his pacing and stands ramrod straight at attention. The change in tone catches Michael’s attention as well, his gaze drawn to the beat up old cab as a woman, in her late forties to early fifties steps from the car and looks utterly disgusted by her surroundings. She brushes off her jacket like the cab seat could have dirtied it, clutches her bag close like someone could try to snatch it, and finally, her eyes lock on Trevor. Trevor notices the subtle sneer crawling its way to his mothers lipstick painted lips, but it’s like as soon as she spots Michael her whole demeanor changes.

Trevor meets his mother halfway, looking at her from under his lashes and looking incredibly small despite being nearly a foot taller than her,

“Hi, mommy..”

“Don’t you ‘hi, mommy’ me!” she hisses, just quiet enough that Michael can’t hear,

“You don’t call, you don’t write, you disappear and make me find you out in this shithole. And who is that?”

“That’s..Michael, ma. He’s my..best friend.”

“Hmm..” Mrs. Philips sniffs as she assesses Michael from a distance,

“Well, at least he looks a more proper gentleman than the wretched boy toy turned out to be.. Now, take me inside! It’s cold out here. Are you trying to kill me?”

“S-sorry, mommy!”

They seat themselves, and Michael makes the effort to introduce himself- quickly finding Mrs. Philips to be a shockingly pleasant woman. She compliments him on marrying a woman and starting a family, she enjoys his freshly done buzzcut and gives Trevor flack about his long mullet, and makes jokes about Trevor never finding a woman and about how he never calls her. She seems nice, and Michael can’t quite understand why Trevor sits silently beside her like he’s waiting for his final moments in the electric chair.

“Well, you’ve been awfully quiet, Trevor. You make me come to you after months of not bothering to call, take me to some dinky little diner, and then sit in silence while your friend carries on the conversation like a true, pleasant gentleman. Unbelievable.” she scoffs, giving Trevor a look that makes him sink down in his seat like a scolded child.

Michael simply laughs at the interaction, presuming it’s simply lighthearted nagging with how nice Mrs. Philips has been to him over the last few minutes,

“Yeah. Come on, T. Your mom came a long way to see ya. You could at least say something.”

“Sorry.. I’m sorry, mommy. I-.. Uhm, I’m gonna-.. Can I have the salt?” Trevor fumbles out as he burrows down in his jacket like he’s trying to disappear.

“The first real thing you have to say to me and you’re giving me an order? Oh, that’s just like you, Trevor. Always taking, taking, taking! But you can’t even extend me the courtesy of a simple call or letter. Get the damn salt yourself.” Mrs. Philips spits as she practically turns her back to Trevor.

Michael balks a bit- startled by her outburst at Trevor’s simple request. But he had been acting odd the whole time, and if he really hadn’t tried to speak to her for months then Michael could understand a bit of her irritation. But-.. The more he watches, the more something just doesn’t sit right with him.

“Ok.. Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry, mama..” Trevor mumbles, leaning up as he cautiously reaches out for the salt.

It happens so fast Michael almost thinks he’s hallucinating. One moment, Trevor is reaching for the salt, the next, his arm is ghosting against his mothers jacket… And then she explodes with the ferocity of an erupting volcano.

“How dare you, boy! I air my grievances and you attack me like this! Pushing your poor, old mother like this simply because I make you work for yourself to reach the damned salt?! You horrible, wretched child!” Mrs. Philips screams, her gnarled hand wrapping quickly around her fork.

“N-no! No, I’m sorry, mommy! I didn’t mean to-“

Trevor reaches out to touch her arm, and like a cobra striking a defenseless rat, Mrs. Philips lashes out and buries the prongs of the fork through the webbing of flesh between Trevor’s thumb and forefinger.

Michael suppresses a jump in the same way Trevor bites back a sob of pain, and when Mrs. Philips rips the fork from Trevor’s bleeding hand, Michael feels it too.

“M’sorry! Mommy, I’m so sorry! It was an accident! Please, don’t be mad! I’m sorry! You know I wouldn’t ever hurt you!” Trevor blubbers, snot and tears wetting his face as he clutches to her jacket- the blood on his hand streaking on the fabric.

“Look at what you’ve done! You’ve ruined my best coat! Can you ever just not make a mess of things?! Let me up! I need to get this off before you stain it!” Mrs. Philips hisses, shoving at Trevor until she can slide from the booth and stomp off to the bathroom.

Trevor sobs softly and pathetically as Michael sits across from him with eyes wide and heart pounding. He feels like a fool. It all makes sense now- Trevor’s nerves, his silence, him asking him here for support. He feels like an ass for laughing along with what he’d initially thought were jokes, which had turned out to be honest jabs that were hurting Trevor’s feelings.

“Trevor.. Hey, T.. We’re gonna go home, ok?” Michael mutters softly, pushing to his feet as he grabs a fist full of napkins and passes them to Trevor.

Trevor is silent besides his soft, choked sobs; taking the napkins and pressing them to his bleeding hand.

Patrons and workers stare at them in quiet shock, too horrified to intervene as they watch on at the unfolding events.

They make it to the door when Mrs. Philips stalks from the bathroom muttering curses and wiping at a damp spot on her coat,

“and where do you think you’re going?”

Michael steps up quickly, standing in front of Trevor with a firm look,

“We..made a mess at the table, and you should probably try to get that blood out before it stains. I’m going to get him cleaned up. So, we thought it was best to leave.”

“And of course you were going to leave without saying goodbye after you already ruined lunch. How very typical of you, Trevor! Well, good! Go! But don’t call me when you’re rotting in prison!” Mrs. Philips shouts, scowling at Trevor all the way until he and Michael climb into Michael’s car.

They leave Trevor’s truck behind, and Michael simply drives. It’s silent between them except for Trevor’s soft sniffling until Michael speaks up.

“There’s some paper napkins in the glove box.. Looks like you’re about to bleed through those..”

“T-thanks, Mikey..”

Michael sighs heavily, giving Trevor’s pathetic visage a side eyed glance- Amanda is going to be so mad at him,

“Hey. Ya wanna go out for a bit? We can go for a drive, stop by the liquor store- kinda looks like you and your hand could use some alcohol.”

Trevor gives another soft sniff, wiping at his face with his jacket sleeve before giving a silent nod- the ghost of a smile creeping to his lips.

#gta v #gta 5 #grand theft auto v #grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #michael townley

[gnomgnomovich]

About Brok.

It is that moment after you lick your wound a little (thanks, Santa Monica, God bless you all :D) that you started to think. And then came an understanding that Brok is not only a great person, but the huge part of a GOW:R’s plot - more than we thought. 

In a first place, he was a brother and a friend. And the Great Blacksmith, of course. His personal basis, even if he was always acting grumpy and brutally honest, was actually the same as the Sindri’s. Brok helps, cares and protects his people - family and mates. IMHO, he was simpler (not dummier) than Sindri, that makes him more... Whole. That’s why he can just be himself and don’t give a goat’s fart about others opinion :) I myself dare to think that we will be good friends, because we have same personalities, and I’m a master of toilet humor (me ant’ getting better with age, my dudes). 

But let’s talk about the game’s plot. Specifically - about Brok and prophesies. I think that prophesy cannot foresee him because of 3/4 soul, a-a-a-a-and that makes me wonder: how much the painting of future could be changed if his soul was complete?

What if some of his actions help Faye in her fate-changing route?

We don’t know when exactly he lost his soul, but I think it can match with the entire Odin-prophetess-giants-foresight thing. Also... Faye was a good friend to the dwarves. They seem to hang out often, so maybe that relationships help her to change the fate of her husband and son.

I cannot but think about it.

And so, not to mention Brok’s supreme role in starting Ragnarök: exposed Odin’s disguise, doesn't let him take the mask, become the reason to fight for Kratos and Sindri. Not everything in this line is good, tho...

I’m not telling that everyone are in the second stage. It’s just THE scene in the house was a turning point to action and changing for almost everyone. At least for Kratos, Atreus and Sindri.

I miss him.

Here is some doodle about this best boiz ever. And again, sorry for lack of English language, hope no one dies after reading my notes :D

#god of war #god of war ragnarok #god of war spoilers #gow #gowr #brok #sindri #night time thoughts

[nahalism]

Hiiii! I wanted to ask you about something for a long time. Do you think true healing comes from our own hands? I know you have some good knowledge on trauma so i am more confident asking you this question. Sometimes i believe we are our own biggest healer, most knowledgeable doctor because we are INSIDE us, we know everything (or mostly everything lol) about ourselves so technically we should be most equipped to help ourselves but then i wonder if we can be fully objective with ourselves or objective enough to untangle all that needs help, tending, being looked at and an external person will never truly hear, see what we and only we can. Or maybe we need another to guide us because there is only so much we can do alone and maybe we ARE actually not able to see some parts that are either hidden or blurted maybe some things are beyond when we are…hurt inside bad enough. What are your thoughts and feelings about this, dear? Now asking “what do you think” made me realize that the way i see you i think you’re pretty much always speaking from a place that had “think” and “feel” intertwined. It’s what i am getting whenever i am met with your energy here.

I hope you feel fabulous today🤍

hey angelll <3. ill start by saying, i feel like no man is an island but we must all learn to become one to truly mature and be of service. we are all dependent on things and people external to ourselves, but the true mark of maturation is learning to carry ones own load. not out of scorn, greed or a need for separation due to individuation, but in order to be one who can provide for others, whether that be refuge or resource. in giving we help others stand, yet without the self determination to take your own steps, that learning is in vain. so the answer is both. we need others but ultimately we must do the work ourselves.

that metaphor explains my feelings on symbiosis at large but to answer u directly, i feel the boundary between what demarcates self and other is very nebulous. as much as i believe we have all the tools within us to learn, understand, and transmute what we are into what we want to be, i also believe that our perception of the world external to us is a huge indicator of whats going on internally. as such the people we meet and our interactions with those beings/spaces we encounter them in, are often mirrors that reflect ourselves back to us, or!! are huge indicators of what we can still learn or ways that we need to develop and grow. whether that individual shows us everything we are, or everything we are not, they are still teaching us and deepening our capacity for self awareness (& the key to growing is to first be aware). i do also believe that all living things are one in essence, & as such theres no real difference between me and other, but since thats down to personal belief ill leave that there. what i will say is 'only a fool knows everything' and so if ever you catch yourself feeling or thinking someone has nothing to teach you, thats usually where the lesson is beginning. — sometimes others see our blindspots and can help us get to where we want to go faster than we can alone. but that isnt always the case because not everyone has the level of discernment and foresight to take you to the spaces you see for yourself. the best thing ive found is to listen to everything, & then apply what resonates.

re: the link between thinking & feeling, allll emotions have their root in a thought. if you think something, consciously or subconsciously, the energy of that emotion then translates beyond those neurological pathways into the physical body where we felt them somatically or as emotions. however theres a difference between emotion, the minds intelligence and the hearts intelligence. the heart knows only truth. i try to lead with my heart, but i know there are many times (mainly where fear or hopelessness is present) that im falling short. all i can hope to do in those instances is hold myself and try again lol.

theres so much love in this & trust for me which is heart warming fr. sending u love. hope this helped <3333333

#ask

[terraliensvent]

Hi mod it’s Cass

I am also YOUR number one fan!!! I don’t plan to stay in Terras, just hanging around until I get my art for my trade and then I’m running for the hills basically. The NSFW jokes and the general atmosphere are too much. I’m an adult in a server full of children, and atp given the nonchalance of other members I don’t plan on being in a space that encourages that kind of behavior towards children. I’ll probably make a ticket about it and that’s that, honestly.

I hope you don’t stay any longer than you have to, that place is just a cesspool of toxic positivity. Good luck in there bud 🫡 you’re so much braver than I am. I never really looked at this blog until recently but you seem pretty chill so you’re cool in my book!

post related

omg im having my “senpai noticed me” moment lmao

glad youre taking the initiative to gtfo, it just sucks how that shows more evidence that the terra server is not an environment conducive to critique or serious discussion whatsoever.

the nsfw/suggestive “jokes” have apparently been a continued issue just going based off the stuff i get in my inbox, and mods dont seem to give a fuck since theyre all around 18-20 themselves and dont have the foresight to see how there is true danger in things they think is no big deal.

and actually i wanna elaborate on my issues with mods being so young; when youre a very young “adult” yourself (adult in quotes because imo 18 is only adult in legal terms and most 18-year-olds do NOT have the level of maturity that comes with the title of adult, something amazingly exemplified in the terra server) you kind of blur the lines on minor and adult. what i mean by this is: when youre 18, you tend to think of minors as 16-17 or older teens since thats the stage you were just in, you dont really think about the 13, 14, 15 year olds being as super-young as they are because you were just in high school with some of them. because of this theyll brush more things off as “not a big deal” because, hey, i would make jokes like that with my friends in high school, its not that bad. they dont really realize the different dynamics there are when its online, and just how bad it ACTUALLY is. again, it goes back to that immaturity thing. (theres also something to be said about the way that 17 year olds online are really infantilized while 18 year olds online are treated as just as mature as older adults, AND theres something to be said about the way 18 year olds are constantly pushed into believing theyre more mature especially in art and furry spaces by beginning to create and post NSFW the SECOND they turn 18, but thats a whole nother can of worms)

anyways, maturity rant aside and back to the actual topic of the ask, i appreciate the kindness abt me and my blog :) i plan to stick around in terras because i love watching a trainwreck, but if push comes to shove ill start disconnecting myself from it again.

#closed species vent #terralien #closed species #terraliens #vent

[myjustice]

was this part of the plan ? did you know about this ?

' haha, heavens no. why would i ever want to subject myself to such a fate after receiving that which i longed for the most? ' she had to laugh, she found humor where perhaps there was none. however she was all divinity ... or what was left of that divinity. her lack of foresight in that regard. the actions taken by the divine made only sense to the one themselves & nobody else. ' i must say though i'm quite impressed with you, neuvillette. ' she smiled at him from within the mirror he saw her in. ' the fact that you still sense some part of me in her ... you show promise as the up & rising sovereign of water. ' she tilted her head to one side. ' however must you beckon me forth in your private quarters in such a fashion? my, my, how inappropriate of you. ' she teased him, chuckling as she moved from this specific mirror she was in into another within his chambers.

' though my ideals have no stains that hardly meant the plan i conjured those many a years ago was perfect. ' she spoke to him though in the back of her head she wondered where furina was. her divinity was not sensing her within the palais mermonia. ' however good enough it was to have my ultimate goal met. the fact that i'm speaking to you at all at this very moment is a testament to the fact that my plan was not the most perfect. ' she expected this part of her to be completely gone ... & though most of her most certainly was, specks of dust of her remained enough to where she could manifest in this manner. ' if you yourself was so certain of me still being out there, then surely that must mean furina senses me as well ... that's actually quite unfortunate. ' she would much prefer that furina lived on her life without the past looming over her like a shadow, which seemed to be the case. aside from the plan, the reason she took her memories away were a display of mercy as well to herself, selfishly so.

' just like i lacked foresight on me still being around in some sense. ' she shrugged her shoulders at him. ' the fact that she's suffering as she is right now was also due to my lack of foresight. i underestimated & overestimated furina's strength of will. however i believe the suffering of one is a small price to pay compared to the suffering of many. ' she reasoned. ' would you not agree with that ... leviathan? you did forgive them after all, so you must agree to some degree. ' he ended up doing what was planned, unknown to him yes, but it happened ... thankfully. after so much trial & error. ' so tell me, if all of that makes so much sense, why the long face? ' she placed her hands 'pon her hips, studying him carefully. ' you & everybody else in that trial were so determined, so desperate to get her to bend to your will when she has bended to the masses many a years ago. why is there, dare i say, sorrow in your voice now? ' it was fascinating to the divinity, this shift in the masses, in him even more so. ' does it hurt to see her in such a state, leviathan? ' she should not laugh, that would be most inappropriate ... but she felt the tickle to do so within her throat.

meme. / @eausovereign

#eausovereign #&. chapter ( her ideals had no stains / praise her magnificence & purity. ) #i had an epiphany

[anxious-ace]

TMNT/Half-mutant au:

!HM=half-mutant!

The boys are the sons of a mutant father and a human mom (hence half-mutant) and they are both master ninjas and Splinter's friends

I don't exactly know what happens to their parents but I know something happens to allow Splinter to adopt and train the boys

This isn't a strictly "2012!TMNT but make them half-mutant" au, there are bits and pieces of Rise!TMNT mixed in there as well, like the boys harnessing their mystic powers (at some point between 10-15 years ago)

(this is so there's room to discover what else they can be used for while giving them time to use them properly)

On top of Rise!Leo's powers, HM!Leo can also use telepathy and foresight/visions/precognition because of a "connection to the old masters" he has (as the leader, he trained the most to better use his Katanas and meditated to help reduce overreactions/emotional outbursts during missions)

(those 2 things somehow fostered the connection)

He also has Melasma instead of the Vitiligo people give human Rise!Leo

(this is a reference to red-eared sliders but if he's one, that means they all are and I don't know what species the dad would be)

(instead of giving myself a headache with this I'm just going to say that the Melasma is present in both forms)

The April in this is pretty much strictly Rise!April

I know how people treat 2012!April (and frankly, I too am a little annoyed with her, but more so with the writers, they shouldn't have included human + mutant relationships, especially if they're technically siblings because that shit definitely needs to stop)

I think that is why I made Leo aroace in this au because he would not want to go near that shit (he thinks romance, in general, gets in the way of missions but he has let his brothers do what they want as long as it doesn't get in the way)

(he knows that they are old enough to do their own thing in that regard)

Leo does have the Usagi chronicles guy (whichever one's closest to being 25, the one everyone ships Rise!Leo with, I can't with names right now)

Oh, and this Donnie and April are just friends but I might give Donnie his own love interest (who will probably be an oc or maybe even Casey if I feel like it)

Ralph has Mona Lisa so they're good (they're still aroace like Leo though, they're also nonbinary)

(Donnie is a demisexual bi-romantic guy, Leo is an aroace trans guy and Mikey is pansexual and gender fluid)

Donnie and Leo are twins, which makes them the cool (color) twins (name courtesy of 10-year-old Mikey), at 25 (currently)

(they were 15 when Leo made the connection with the masters)

Raph and Mikey are 23 and 22 respectively (they were 13 and 12, again respectively, when the connection happened)

As for the "mystic awakening", this was probably not too long after the connection happened (the connection actually helped the boys get these powers in the first place)

Since 2012!Leo canonically had a psychotic episode at some point, HM!Leo has them too, he can't tell if they're visions or not so he's a bit on edge

(Donnie knows this and tries his best to help him)

The boys are all neurospicy/neurodivergent or have other physical and mental issues

Donnie is autistic with sensory issues

Mikey has hyperactive ADHD and dyslexia

Raph has trouble regulating emotions and his roach/bug phobia

Leo (as seen above) is a paranoid schizophrenic (schizophrenia characterized by predominantly positive symptoms of schizophrenia, including delusions and hallucinations which include auditory, visual, and tactile hallucinations/hallucinations dealing with touch) with an anxiety disorder, sensory issues, stuttering, body shakes/aches, a touch of narcolepsy or insomnia depending on the time of day, vision problems (all thanks to the three-month coma, his throat heals though) as well as his leadership trauma

(although all of the boys have trauma because Jesus christ these shows are just trying to kill them at this point)

(Splinter and Donnie were the first to notice everything, in this au he's an excellent sensei and he's actually trying to be their dad too)

(it's a balancing act between moments when their sensei is needed and when they need him to be their dad)

Splinter only started color-coding them and what they owned when they were old enough to tell him their favorite color, before that he either wrote their names on everything or just let them have a free for all

As for clothes, they were color-coded from the beginning, so the boys just picked the color they were wearing as their favorite to make things easier

(I'm trying to find the perfect balance of their personalities from 2012! and Rise! so that's going to be a bit later, it's probably a situational thing like they act differently at home than they do on missions)

Actually, that might be exactly it, and going even further they act differently in front of Splinter as opposed to how they act with each other (when he's not in the room because can you imagine if he heard the conversations they have with each other, holy shit)

Leo is described as "confident but not egotistical" (he has to be a confident leader but he's not as "egotistical" as Rise!Leo), Donnie is smart but caring, Raph may seem to just be a hothead but that's because of something he can't control, however, a more accurate way to describe him is "emotional but still an honorable fighter", Mickey has Dr. Delicate touch and Dr. Feelings so his description would be "goofy but not without room for reality and scaring his brothers sometimes"

Casey isn't a time traveler (like Rise!Casey) but he still has his "pull yourself together" moments with the brothers (April and the boys have to do the same with him)

Besides that, he's mostly based on 2012!Casey

The reason their eyes go white (for lack of a better phrase) is that turtles have a protective membrane over their eyes, although it's clear for normal turtles, their mutant DNA made them white

Donnie's suit is a reference to Rise!Donnie being a soft-shell turtle (in this au it's him being a smart protective boy)

Their "dyed" hair is actually because of their mystic abilities, they used them more when they were teens (because they weren't as good with their weapons as they are now) and it made a higher portion of their hair glow

They still use them (as seen in the presence of the "dye") but not as much because they got better with their weapons (and they are now using them in perfect balance)

The green markings on their skin are supposed to be a reference to them being half turtle-mutant (they also glow when the boys use their mystic powers)

There are these things called "Krang clones"- a subspecies of Krang that can clone/transform into pretty much anyone if they have a sample of their DNA (they usually get this through the person's blood)

(at some point the Foot Clan works with the Krang to make clones of Battle Nexus Champions, including Leo, for their army or whatever)

There are documented alternate dimensions that the boys have gone to at some point (Donnie is, of course, writing all of their findings down)

(the ability to write the certain things that happen in these dimensions requires me to be able to remember what the different series contain)

I do know that D-(20)22 is where HM! takes place with D-(20)12 being 2012!TMNT, D-(20)18 being Rise! and D-(20)03 being the 2003 series

The format basically is: D-*year a certain TMNT! series came out/dimension number*

They only say the last 2 digits (so they'd say D-12, D-18, or D-22 instead of the full-dimension number)

#tmnt 2012 #tmnt au

[the-great-elwisty]

Day 29: How your adventure(s) should have really ended

A/N: Here's a bit of meta which, despite the claim in the first sentence, I've been writing in fragments over a few months. It's quite appropriate for today. Please join in with your own ideas!

Over the last couple of days, I’ve found myself wondering at what point Rocks Fall Everyone Dies became the plan for the end of Neverwinter Nights 2. Was that always what Obsidian were working towards? Or was it something that happened as they were struggling to get the last Act done in time for Atari’s deadline?

Here are a few different ideas for an alternative finale, some of which segue into Mask of the Betrayer, some of which would be more suited to the earlier, abandoned idea of a Planar adventure involving the githzerai/githyanki. (No source for that; it’s something I vaguely remember reading about fourteen – aaaaargh!!! – years ago.)

After the final battle, rocks do not fall. It turns out that the ancient architects of the final dungeon really knew what they were doing when they put in the foundations. Instead, the PC and companions are victorious and return to the surface. Big reception a la Dragon Age in Crossroad Keep. Dialogue with the companion you have the highest influence with. “So what will you do if you survive?” “I’m going to look for another adventure/stay in Crossroad Keep/restore West Harbour etc.” End game, role the epilogues. XP1 could start with a new character, or have the old one being kidnapped from their chosen life. Would this have been too vanilla for Obsidian devs? Probably. It’s much more of a Bioware-style ending. I think I could have been happy with it though.

The King of Shadows is dead; rocks are starting to come down. Zhjaeve or Ammon approaches with a desperate escape plan depending on who has the highest influence. They open a portal, the PC and companions go through to Limbo (Zhjaeve) or Stygia/somewhere really nasty (Ammon), and doubtless end up scattered all over the place, giving the devs a chance to introduce a new set of characters in XP1 without killing all the old ones. Regardless of your starting point, you would ultimately visit Limbo/the Hells as part of the campaign, thus not wasting a location on just half of all PCs.

The final battle changes – it’s not just about defeating the King of Shadows, but about freeing him from the Shadow Weave. This scenario could end with the person-who-became-the-Guardian restored, like Akachi, to his former identity, and the PC taking on the mantle of Illefarn Guardian, perhaps in a ceremonial or more real capacity: the spirit of the Guardian-that-was refuses to depart until the PC in some measure accepts the burden. If the PC doesn’t want it, a high-influence companion could accept it in their stead. (Grobnar as supernatural protector of the Sword Coast along with his Wendersnaven assistants??) Actually, I could see anyone except Zhjaeve (too extra-planar) and Sand/Qara (too self-interested) in the role. A chastened Bishop might do it if he could be persuaded back after his betrayal. The downside of this scenario is that most of the OC appears to be saying that lone heroes are a bad idea. The Guardian was not a good plan; no society should allow one person to turn themselves into a sacrificial lamb for their benefit – and those that do (like the Illefarn) will find it has unpleasant consequences. Also: do not be like Casavir. Do not be like Ammon Jerro. (And maybe with foresight: do not be like Akachi.) The PC wins by relying on their companions, their connections, and the apparatus of the Neverwinter state. So a campaign that ends with a single character taking on the job of Guardian would be more of a tragic ending than anything else – it’s just a matter of time until they make a big mistake and fuck up. Unless we are meant to believe that the person who inherits the mantle is just super special and can do what they like, as many politicians seem to believe of themselves with alarming ease. As you might guess, I don’t like that idea.

A final fun idea, again stealing from Dragon Age (I’m thinking of the escape from Fort Drakon sequence). Again, we use companion influence to determine the ending. This time, your companion with the most influence will take the lead and successfully work out a way for you to get out. Precisely how they do this will vary in line with characterisation. (Elanee’s druidic instincts lead her to the correct exit; Sand conjures magical protection; Khelgar uses his dwarven knowledge of how underground structures work/encourages the PC not to give up/Qara blasts through pile of rocks blocking a passage/Grobnar…summons the Wendersnaven to our aid…?) Maybe they all cooperate. Who knows? Rather than end with That Cutscene, you get to play through an extra escape level before stumbling out into sunshine and party-time on the surface.

But I have also asked myself – do I really want the ending changed? Perhaps the sudden collapse of the final dungeon is the natural end point for a game that can’t quite bring itself to be a complete heroic fantasy.

And then I answer my own bloody stupid rhetorical question. Of course I want the sodding ending changed. After sixty hours of play, my protagonist deserves more than some stills and a droning narrator, all assembled on a ha’penny budget at speed, in the moment that they’ve won the final battle and should be having some sort of catharsis.

If the rocks have got to fall, I want my PC sitting with their companions in a hidden refuge waiting for rescue. It’d be Waiting For Godot if Vladimir and Estragon were a ten-person collective of bad temper, irony and curious fashion choices. Bishop is allowed to join the squat-in if he walked away from the final battle.

PC: Well, shall we go?

Casavir: Yes, let us go.

[They do not move]

#nevervember #nwn2 #i'd kill for nwn2 extended edition

[toast-tales]

ITWOM Audio Series Status Update

Hey howdy hey!

For the small handful of people who are following along with the audio series for ITWOM and wondering where the heck the next update is, I thought I'd give a bit of a status update.

Due to a spectacular lack of foresight on my part, I may actually be re-recording some of the earlier chapters. Reason being, I am going back through ITWOM and doing some final editing. Because of the impending edits, though, I don't want to record any more audio chapters until it's done.

I also have limited recording time, as I don't have the house to myself as often (though I've considered trying to rent out the recording studio at my university every now and then. Hopefully those walls really are soundproof, lmao).

I don't have a good timeline for when the audio series will resume, but it will likely be in a few months once I get the edits done. I've only gotten through Chapter 1 so far, but most of the editing will be taking place in the earlier chapters anyways. I'm not abandoning it, don't worry! Just want to make sure it's as accurate to the source material as it can be, and I want the source material to be as good as it can be too.

Thank you for your patience! I hope you all have a great day < 3

#itwom audio

[wastelandersjournal]

September 6th 2007

Few nights ago I found out that

I happen to own an old, ragged copy of The Hound of the Baskervilles. On my journeys, I always stumble upon a trinket or piece of trash and think it will be useful to me in the future. Be it scrap of cloth or a wire, I lay my eyes on it and think, "fuck yeah I could use this for -------". I throw it into one of the boxes in my car and promptly forget about ever owning it. And so it happened, when I finally decided to clean out my trunk, I soon found out my habit would cause me a bit of trouble. I happened to stop in front of a so-called 'charity dump', a place where other wasteland travelers such as myself leave stuff they acquired on their travels. In the few months I lived here, I managed to grab all kinds of shit I then realised I have absolutely no use for.

I arrived in the early morning, just before sunrise. I slept though the whole day prior and felt unbelievably lazy and drained. Leaving the dreamworld was something I hated doing, even if I frequently had nightmares. For some reason the nightly terrors were more comforting than the heavy weight of reality. And some movement would do me good.

I wandered around the dump, looking though all the junk other people left. Amongst honorable mentions belongs a big folded pile of decorated jackets and band shirts, a statue of a frog who's colours have already faded, a big box of keys that somebody had stolen over the years, a weird ass plushie with a huge nose- I swear it reminded me of someone- and all kinds of plant seeds, separated in little glass jars and thrown into a big, torn up bag.

As tempting as it was, I took none of it, leaving it behind for another lost soul to find and take for themselves.

I returned to my car and spilled out all the contents of each box onto the ground, spreading it out by gently nudging it with my leg and sat down in front of the mess, determined to clean it once and for all.

I started in the early morning and by the afternoon I had two thoroughly rummaged through piles of junk. I did meet a couple of travelers who stopped by to grab some things they needed. They actually helped me quite a bit by rummaging through the "fuck this shit" pile and taking a good third of it with them.

By the time I finally put away the last box, the sun was just about to set. And there I found it, laying in the trunk. An old, withered book, caked in dust. I took it out to inspect it closer. To my surprise, it was readable. The print held up against the trial of time, and the end of it. Some of the pages were glued together. I, of course being the chronic cynic, immediately thought of the worst possible as I pulled the pages apart. Inside, pressed thin, was a flower. A forget-me-not. Its original colours were long gone, seeped into the pages of the book. Carefully, afraid of it crumbling in my hand, I peeled it off and put it into my own journal. Many more, glued together pages held more pressed plants of all kinds. Weeds, flowers, herbs.

I found a dahlia, valerians, marigolds, clovers and oh so many more I did not recognise.

I read it in one sitting, in the trunk of my car. I didn't sleep that night, captured by the two stories it told: the one of the authors, and the one of it‘s previous owners. They didn't like the book that much, or maybe had two different copies, otherwise they wouldn't let it get this stained.

It seems to me that they wanted to preserve the beauty of nature before it all ended. Might have been foresight, or it was a hobby, but they did a good job preserving those flowers.

As I now write this, the book lays next to me on my seat. I've read it six times since I found it in my trunk. The day is clear and sunny. Yet I can't help but shiver. I'm cold. I have felt this way for few days now, every day the feeling only getting more intense.

As I sit here, cold and shivering for no apparent reason, I finally realise.

It never belonged to me, I was foolish to think it did. I should give it back.

#journal pages #unreality #horror #wasteland #dreamcore

[kim-ruzek]

Ok so probably I’m the only one but I’m quite pissed that we know about Jesse’s departure before this season even starts. Now I’m just waiting for his last episode - where is the element of surprise? I know that they are filming in real places and people can watch it and that itself ruins surprise but still! Do we really have to know about that kind of stuff earlier? I was thinking about Jesse Spencer - how emotional that was because we didn’t know earlier! Yes, we had clues but nothing was confirmed and we could discuss, we had so many theories and when his final episodes aired it was heartbreaking and shocking- but it’s how it supposed to be! One of the reasons I think GoT was so popular was the element of shock and uncertainty- but now Chicago PD robbed us of it. Seriously, we know he’s leaving and now it’s just waiting game… and I really feel cheated by, it would have been so much impactful and emotional if we find out about his departure while watching a show, not by reading an article (and to be honest, it’s getting so annoying that almost every time an actor decided to leave or a show runner decided to kill a certain character we know about if way before an episode is airing…)

I'm the kind of person who prefers knowing if an actor is leaving before hand. If it's a minor/supporting character, not as much because then I like that surprise that you talked about, but if it's a main character, I prefer knowing so then I can mentally prepare myself.

I also, especially more as I get older, can't cope with shows that have that uncertainty, just because it hurts my heart too much and I get too anxious. Really, I think I was ruined circa 2015(?) by a British soap lol (there was a point in time several people were killed in one year, it was a Lot).

But I most definitely get where you are coming from, and that I do agree it ruins a lot of the shock value of his final episode. And as much as I love knowing these things before, I'm actually of the opinion that these things shouldn't be announced, at least not nearly as often as they are. I think with social media and fandom being such a big thing, a lot of surprises like this gets ruined (just bc information can get spread quickly, and because people who intentionally seeks out this information can be cavalier when talking about it and thus spoiling others who didn't want to be) so shows tends to announce this information themselves so they don't have to worry about if they'll keep the shock under wraps.

Personally, I didn't find JS's final episode emotional. I got emotional because I'm a sentimental sap who gets emotional at nearly everything, but the episode itself didn't do it for me-- And I think a lot of that was because I didn't know beforehand, so I literally didn't think he was actually going until the episode finished. And I think if I didn't know about JLS leaving that might be the same with him, especially as unlike Matt, Jay tends to irk me as a character. Whereas now however he might leave, I can truly appreciate the farewell it will be to his character because I know it will be, and as I have an unfortunate strong feeling he may go throughout death, that means I'll be able to appreciate that better.

But yeah, in general, I do agree with you. Announcing this, especially this early, was a bad decision. I don't know why they did-- if it's just because shows have stopped caring about that shock factor, or to try and take some backlash of the Kelli Giddish situation (which any foresight would tell you is a bad idea) or another reason, but it definitely has meant that a lot of people will just be waiting for the episode now.

I'm sorry you got cheated of the shock and emotions of a surprise exit. 💖

#ree's asks #chicago pd #jesse lee soffer #thank you for asking!!! 💖 #sorry this took a couple of days to get to it's still taking me a while to get to the same energy to answer multiple asks in a day #but i appreciate the viewpoint

[meowlimia]

ED log

tw sh, and the usual

**

july 2nd, 5:53 am 

the past few days have been relatively uneventful, i just havent been eating much so there’s nothing to talk about. did binge a few times though

june 30th, 

one ring of pineapple w/o the skin and middle

small cup of chocolate milk

something else maybe? cant remember eating anything else though.

yesterday, july 1st 

6 tacos from taco bell, meat, cheese, and sour cream.

and 1 of their MASSIVE cups, with pepsi.

6-8 pineapple chunks

Purged it all, i ate 4 when i first got it, then picked at the other 2 later, which i didnt purge because i just didnt eat much besides the shell. i think i have finally, somehow, icked myself off taco bell. thank you god.

later, like around 2 am today

i had 1 medium and 1 small fry from mcdonalds

a pineapple soda

a coke

and 2 slices of costco pizza. 

all purged. 

Cant date this binge but it happened between this log and the last.

1 container of battered fries from a mexican place

and i THINK 2 grilled cheeses? with low moisture mozzarella and a bit of cheddar.

either way, all purged.

ive worked out twice this week, which was nice, but i cant see myself keeping it up unless im really desperate to appease my ed. 

trying to get better with tracking my food but its hard, again, i have a really shitty memory and i dont really have the foresight to log my binges or meals when they happen. Nor do i really calorie count besides in my head, and even then its a rough estimate.

Cut for the first time today, ive always been really scared of pain so im shocked i went through with it. Im having a really hard time with some school related stuff right now and i just couldnt handle the stress. they’re not deep cuts or anything, really light actually, but i cut basically in the same place a ton of times so its really irritated.

ive never really used self harm to deal with my stress so im shocked at how much i didnt mind it. probably not something super addictive, but i can see myself doing it again once these marks fade. it helps to look at them and know that nothing really matters, i can torture myself all i want and it’ll be worse than what im stressing about. kinda. im still worried, but its definitely better.

Ive been gaining and losing the same 5 pounds, probably because im not purging everything i eat like i should be, i almost never purge snacks or drinks on their own. its hard sometimes, my depression have really intensified over the past few weeks and getting up to do anything let alone purge is difficult. i have to remind myself constantly that i dont wanna live in this fucking fat ass body forever.

[alltheotherblogs]

The thoughts of a poor person and a deep dive into coupons

I live within BRISK walking distance of a Dunkin Donuts. I guess it's just dunkin now but whatever, that doesn't make any fucking sense so shut up. WHAT ARE YOU DUNKING?! I'LL DUNK YOU!! WHERE'S THE DONUTS LABOWSKI? Sorry. So, Dunkin Donuts used to have really good coupons regularly. They had them in their little app, and you could get things like a free donut with purchase, a free lemon bar, three dollars off a sandwich of your choice! Doesn't have to be signature doesn't have to be one of the crappy ones, any sandwich which included the delicious chicken bacon croissant. And now they don't do that at all anymore. They advertise their "Save on dunkin faves" like it's some new fucking thing. And they have the gall to proclaim their medium dunkin refresher is worth anything more than three bucks. Fuck you, dunkin dipshits. I used to have a job where I could spend money on stuff like Dunkin, and it was even very convenient cause it would open as soon as I got off work in the morning, so I could go for a quick snack before bed, which I needed if I didn't wanna drop pounds but also didn't have any food at home. It was a great relief to be able to grab something calorie dense so that I could maintain myself. Now dunkin is actually more expensive per calorie than most other places that I can walk to. I can walk or bike around 1.5 miles a day and have 2000 calories for ten bucks along with other essentials and proteins. Working out on a budget is fucking HARD in todays economy so when I have coupons or can visit a discount or outlet place I do and hope that I'll find something protein dense to take me through another week. Today is actually one of those days, hopefully. Regardless, the fact that I can't walk across the street and use some convenient great coupons makes me both sad and annoyed. Dunkin was a highlight for me and now it's kind of just a worse option than any of the other three or four places I could go to to find food. I also have two convenience stores near me which both supply superior coupons and deals regularly. So there is really no point to ever go to dunkin again unless i'm feeling a particular craving for coffee and lack a decent cream or milk. Sorry coffee pureists but I cannot afford GOOD BEANS. For me it's usually either bad bean, decent bean, or INSTANT. And believe it or not I actually really like instant. It's good. First tried it in a military ration. Regardless of whether it's good bean or not, I like milk or cream in my coffee. I have this intense sweet tooth, and so I will take anything that contains one of my favorite sweet flavors into my body via injection if I must. Anyways what I'm trying to say is that in the world of fast food coupons, convenience store coupons, and places selling cheap food, I see no reason to go back to dunkin at their current prices. For ten dollars I could get a coffee, a sandwich and a donut. For ten dollars I could also get a bowl of macaroni, a soft parm pretzel with cheese sauce, and a grilled cheese or sub or something. I used to wish I could be an adult back when I was a kid, now I realize just how much foresight I had. I was a fucking genius back then. If I could go back in time and be an adult in the 2000s, EVERYTHING WOULD BE DIFFERENT. I would be extremely rich right now. You know why? I wanted to invest in BTC in 2016. I would've been a millionaire and could start a cleaning business and flip properties on the side for extra cash. Also could've used my money to actually get to doing my passions like fighting sports, inventing, and voice acting. Regardless, I'm here now, more qualified to do two out of three than ever, with no outlet and I have to struggle to buy food daily. Fuck this life I'm about ready for the next. How about I start an underground fighting circuit and see how far I get with it till the feds show up?

#rant #poverty