#George is a very supportive boyfriend and won’t stop talking about Alex

[earl-grey-teacake]

omg hello! your brain is truly so big for this idea… george coaching logan lives rent free in my mind at all times and their minimal interactions bring me life fr 🥺🥺 now.. very important question.. WHO adopted logan first? alex as his current teammate or george as his long-time mentor? i also have this insane image in my mind of george making a powerpoint titled “7 step plan on how to win oscar’s heart / why he’s definitely in love with you don’t be stupid / we need to talk about your (lack) or self esteem” . yea there are three topics but alex has sighed deeply and provided snacks to keep them going. and also the idea of carlando adopting oscar?? it’s a very strange dynamic bc lando is so excitable he’s def not a parent figure and oscar and carlos are still squinting suspiciously at each others for sure. maybe the three of them are using their combined 8 brain cells to come up with a game plan for wooing logan? and they’re just sitting their arguing over flower symbolism and lando and carlos genuinely almost break up over how worked up they both get. i know this ask got out of control but bestie.. your mind is so large and i am obsessedddd w this idea

Hello! Thank you so much! Very happy to hear that the ideas my brain makes up in the middle of the night are appreciated!🥰

To answer your question, Alex adopted Logan first. I see George keeping his distance, close but still professional. Alex, as both an eldest sibling and having gone through 2021, is very sympathetic to Logan. He sees the spiraling, he understands being alone as your parents are dealing with their own issues, and he knows what it feels like to be left behind while the friends you joined F1 with go on ahead. When Logan stops answering his texts and James brings up his worries, Alex is at Logan’s door telling him to pack up and come over to his place. George starts off in a “I’m here to help but mainly because Alex wants to do this and I love Alex” and quickly becomes “i am onboard with helping you, here is a list of therapists I have complied, please pick one.”

George is absolutely making PowerPoints. It starts off with “No one on the grid or your team hates you + with proof from the group chat” to “Your lack of self-esteem is alarming and we are all a bit worried” before becoming “Oscar is in love with you + photographic evidence.” George’s love language is PowerPoints. When he was getting Alex that Williams seat, I imagined him cornering people with a laptop in hand and a PowerPoint titled “Alex Albon’s Achievements: Why he is a perfect fit for Williams”. Alex is ordering take out and providing commentary on the slides, and questioning where certain photos came from.

I see Carlando adopting Oscar not in a parental way, but more in a “I have more life experience so let me tell you why ghosting your friend and crush is a bad idea”. They absolutely brainstorm ways to woo Logan but they keep failing because Logan thinks Oscar is doing this to apologize for not talking to him for a month/forgetting his birthday and Oscar is slowly going insane because nothing works and in every interaction Logan looks sadder and sadder. Carlos and Lando are definitely getting worked up because it was never this hard when they got together .

Your idea with the flower language is genius, can I write that in the fic? I am thinking of a scene like

“No, Lando we cannot put yellow roses in the arrangement. They mean decrease of love, that’s an awful flower to include.”

“How about orange lilies? There aren’t exactly a ton of papaya or orange flowers to choose from.”

“No! Orange lilies mean hatred. We should be starting simple like pink roses and baby breaths.”

“Those options are basic. They don’t have personality to them. It looks like Oscar just went to a supermarket and picked it up. How is anyone supposed to feel special receiving a standard supermarket bouquet?”

“I wouldn’t know Lando. You never got me flowers before so I don’t know how I would feel receiving a supermarket bouquet?”

This ask was super fun to answer! Thank you so much for sending it❤️ I am also obsessed with it and am drafting outlines to write it. Please feel free to send more asks. I really love answering them.

[anotherhamiltonblog]

Foreign Touch ch 7

Warnings:  Angst. Panic Attack. Talk of Character Death. Cursing. the boys being cute friends. Thomas being a Cute boyfriend.

Word Count: 2.638

Previously    Masterlist

A/N: I’m so sorry for the delay guys. I posted a few days ago that I was going through something and just needed to leave and take some time for myself. BUT I’m back and working on the stories! SO here you go! Chapter 7!!! 

Enjoy!

Two weeks after waking up and finding out about her parents, Y/N was starting to feel a little better. New Year’s came and gone; her grandparents almost never left her side. Sadly, Thomas, Alexander and her friends had to go back to school. Bringing cards, gifts and flowers each time they were allowed to visit. Mostly from her classmates, her cheer squad and her teachers. Something that brought a smile to her face, what didn’t make Y/N happy was the homework.

Late one afternoon, with notebooks, pens, textbooks and her iPad around her. Y/N felt like her head was going to explode. Her leg was itching and aching. Her head always felt heavy, her chest and ribs hurt. Yet, Y/N never asked for more pain medication. She knew what could happen if she had too much, being addicted was not a good sign for her. So instead she dealt through the pain.

“Hi sweety…” a female voice came from the doorway, Y/N looking up and grinning at the sight of Jane Jefferson and Martha Washington standing there.

“We came to bring you some homemade food… the boys should be here soon. I was visiting Jane here and came along to see how you’re doing.” Martha spoke and walked over, only to frown at the amount of homework Y/N had spread around the hospital bed.

“Now, I know that all this can wait…” but Y/N cut Martha off.

“It can’t… not if I want to get into a good college!” she frowned and looked down. “Julliard and the other Art Schools won’t accept me now that I can’t dance anymore.” She rolled her eyes and flopped back on the pillows behind her.

“Hey, none of that now.” Jane came over and both Martha and her started to clean up the schoolwork. “Thomas tells me you are one of the smartest students in that school. I’m sure no one will blame you for not putting your schoolwork as a priority right now.”

Once everything was cleaned up, Y/N felt like she could breathe again. “I just…” but she trailed off and closed her eyes. “I couldn’t attend the funeral… I get out tomorrow. I have this thing on my leg and stitches and I’m ugly and I just miss them so much!” she cried as tears started to slip down her cheeks.

Both women looked at each other and frowned before sitting on either side of Y/N, both trying to comfort the crying girl. Jane even mentioning for Thomas to get back out when he arrived at the door.

“You aren’t alone. OK?” Martha said softly, “I know for a fact that Jane here will allow you to go over to her home whenever you feel like it. My home is always opened for you as well, sweetie.” She whispered. “I knew your parents; they would have preferred it this way than having to bury their child. There is no greater pain for a parent than to have to say goodbye to their child. You will have so much support. George and I, Jane and her husband. You have your soulmate, Alexander and all your friends…”

“We almost lost you as well, Y/N.” Jane added now. “We only know this because your mark appeared on Thomas… both he and Alexander almost broke down.” She kissed the girls head softly. “You will never be alone. OK? We will all help you whenever you need. We’re all here for you.”

As she cried softly, Y/N nodded at their words and knew it would take some time, but she would be surrounded by people to help her.

By the time Y/N had calmed down a good amount, the two women left, and Thomas walked in with a small smile on his face. Y/N fixed herself on the bed and made space for her boyfriend to join her. Once he got on the bed, Y/N found herself cuddling with the man and closed her eyes.

“Your friends said they’ll give us about ten minutes before they barge in here…” Thomas said against her hair and smiled. The words causing Y/N to smile sadly.

She didn’t speak, feeling like she would cry if she even tried to speak. Instead she closed her eyes and let out a small sigh. Eyes closed and Y/N took in the silence and the cologne Thomas was wearing.

The scent being one that could always comfort her.

“I don’t wanna go home…” she finally managed to speak, her voice betraying her and cracking in the middle of the short sentence.

“I can’t go back there; I can’t be in the house without them… or with my grandparents… they’re old! They need to rest and look after themselves. I’m about to be eighteen! I can figure things out on my own…” her voice got softer at the end and she sighed.

“If you don’t want to go back home, no one can make you. Alexander has been staying with John ever since the accident.” Y/N felt his lips brush against her forehead as he spoke. “You can come stay with me and my parents. They won’t mind. They love you. There’s Mr. and Mrs. Washington. You know how much they love all of us over…” but Y/N cut him off.

“The last thing I want to do, is be a burden for anyone.” She snorted. “Fucking look at me, Thomas! I’m black, blue and stitched! I died for like a whole minute! I’m going to be walking funny, I can’t dance anymore! I can’t practice violin until my hand stops aching.” She almost snapped at her boyfriend. The two now sitting up on the bed. “I can’t even study, cause I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on in class and no one to explain this shit to me. Alex and I have to bury our parents!

“I… I can’t… I don’t want to get in a car anymore! Or look at any bright lights!” she blinked a few times. Trying to stop the tears. “The doctor came in a few days ago… early in the morning to check me out. Flashed a damn light in my eye to test whatever the fuck they were testing, and I panicked! I saw the car coming and I heard the screams!”

Little did Y/N know, her brother and friends were outside the room listening in. Once things were quiet, they entered slowly.

The distraction helped. Alex saw Thomas standing beside the bed, Y/N sitting up looking stressed.

“Someone needs a sponge bath.” Hercules said with a sad smile, thankfully his words made a small smile appear on the girls face.

“God no…” she huffed. “What’s under this gown… not pretty” Y/N added a bit softer and looked down at her hands. A needle still stuck in her hand, tape and a bandage over it. Her other hand was bandaged up as well. Her body was still healing, her ribs mostly.

The cast she wore on her leg went an inch above her knee and down to her feet. Only her toes peeking out.

“I spoke to the nurse… we can wheel you around today…” Alexander spoke and that’s how the group spent the rest of the visitation time. Wheeling Y/N around the hospital, finding a garden and talking nonsense.

In the end, Y/N took up Thomas’ offer in going home with him. Her grandparents had been present at the time, having come around to visit her. They understood and allowed it.

That night, being the last night in the hospital. Y/N fell asleep somewhat easily, of course with some help of the antidepressants that had an extra kick to help with the anxiety she felt and the sleeplessness.

By the next morning, with the help from a nurse -much to her slight embarrassment- Y/N got changed into very loose sweatpants, sock and shoe on her bare foot and a long sleeve, loose shirt. Foregoing the bra, Y/N didn’t want to wear the thing and have it irritating her aching chest and back.

Messaging Thomas, she grinned at their little interaction. Y/N’s grandparents had signed her out and all she had to do was wait for her boyfriend to come. The room she had been staying in was bare once again, the decorations her friends had put up was taken down now, presents safely in her bag. 

The ring, the purple two hearted Dimond with a silver band. It was safely on her right-hand ring finger. Reminding her of the promise Thomas had made her when he presented the ring to Y/N.

Y/N sat there looking at the tiny ring inside the box in shock. “Thomas… this isn’t some kind of proposal….” But he chuckled and cut her off.

“No princess, nothing like that. We aren’t close to being ready for marriage.” He teased softly and took her hands in his. “This is just… a promise. That I’ll stick by your side. Thick and thin, I’ll always be here for you. OK? No matter what happens, and not just because we’re soulmates. I liked you even before we found out… finding out you were my other half, the girl I’m destined to be with? That’s fate.”

His words brough tears to her eyes, Y/N feeling like she spent a lot of her time crying. Only this time, the tears were ones of happiness.

“You know I’ve always been some kind of asshole. To Alex, to the other kids at school and the girls. When I got back from Paris, and the mark appeared on me. I doubted I would ever find the girl who was supposed to be with me. Then there you were, always running from me.” He laughed slightly. “I fell for you instantly, the first time you called me out on my bullshit and defended your brother. I thought god was punishing me, making me fall for someone as amazing as you and you not being my soulmate... but I must have done something right to be able to spend my life with you.”

Pulling Thomas in and pressing their lips together, the kiss was soft and sweet.

“Thank you… god I love you Thomas Jefferson.” Y/N spoke against his lips and held him close to her. The couple spending that night holding the other while the nurses allowed Thomas to spend the night. Having seen the interaction between the two.

Snapping back to the present, Y/N smiled and brushed her messy, dirty hair away from her face. Other than the horrible time trying to shower in the bathroom she had access to. Y/N was ready to head home…

It was than that she remembered she wouldn’t be going home. She was going to live with Thomas and his family. With a sigh, eyes closed. Y/N never noticed someone entering her room.

“Hey sweetheart…”

Looking over towards the door, Y/N smiled at Thomas standing there before rolling her eyes at the wheelchair brought in. Of course, Y/N already knew she would have to be pushed out in the wheelchair. Doesn’t mean she was happy about it.

“Ready to go?” he asked and stepped closer, grabbing her things so Y/N wouldn’t have to worry about anything.

With a nod, Y/N tried to hide how anxious she was feeling about getting in a car again. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Using the crutches, she was given, Y/N was able to sit down on the wheelchair and allowed Thomas to place a knitted hat on the top of her head before wrapping his scarf around her. Ignoring the unamused look Y/N was giving him.

“Just wanna make sure you don’t catch a cold.” He grinned cheekily at her and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at him.

Soon enough, she was being pushed out of the hospital building and after blinking a few times, trying to get used to the brightness of the sun hitting the snow. Y/N looked at the car and tried to calm herself down.

‘You’ll be alright… Thomas knows what he’s doing. He won’t let anything happen to you…’ Y/N thought as the wheelchair stopped next to the car and there was her boyfriend helping her into the passenger seat.

Bidding the nurse goodbye, the door was closed, and the seatbelt was on. Suddenly it all felt too real. Closing her eyes and taking deep breaths, Y/N softly spoke to herself. “In through the nose……. Out through the mouth.”

“You ready?”  Y/N heard Thomas ask and she just nodded her head. Refusing to open her eyes, though she didn’t need to look at Thomas to know he was staring at her.

As the car started to move, Y/N felt herself get choked up, her throat and chest starting to ache. She felt like she was starting to drown, she could barely hear the radio that had been on. Only when she felt a hand grasp hers, did she open her eyes and glance over at Thomas. Not noticing the tears that were slowly making its way down her cheeks.

“I got you princess…  I’ll go slow if that makes you more comfortable. OK?” Y/N heard Thomas say and she just nodded. Focusing on her boyfriend in the drivers seat.

Taking in his features, seeing the dark circles under his eyes, the beard that was growing and obviously hasn’t been taken care of in a while. His hair was tied up in a bun, reminding me of Lafayette. Chuckling softly at the thought, Y/N wiped at her eyes before lifting his hand up and softly brushing her lips over his knuckles. Giving it a soft squeeze.

“You doing ok, princess?” she heard him ask and Y/N didn’t speak, just gave a hum in response.

It felt like she was in the car for hours, her anchor for not falling into a panic attack being was holding Thomas’ hand. Hearing him softly talk to her and knowing that he never took his eyes off the road. Not once.

By the time they finally made it to the Jefferson’s home. Y/N allowed Thomas to carry her inside, not wanting her to end up slipping on the ice on the ground with her crutches. Being placed on the couch, Y/N couldn’t help but smile at her boyfriend. Watching as he rushed back outside to grab all her bags. By the time he returned, yelling that he was going to place her things in the room she would be staying in. Y/N shook her head and chuckled before lifting her leg up onto the couch and got comfortable.

Eyeing the ring on her finger, Y/N couldn’t help but take a picture of it and post it on Instagram. Giggling at the comment John put, she wanted to mess with Alex, so Y/N quickly got a hashtag going and laughed when comments started rolling in.

“Did you really make the same comment twice?” Y/N softly spoke when she saw Thomas come back down the stairs with his phone in his hand. A large smile on his face he nodded.

“Wanted to irritate your brother, and it worked.” Was his response, making Y/N softly laugh.

Fixing herself, letting Thomas sit behind her so her back was to his chest. The two watched some baking show on the TV before Y/N started to laugh and showed Thomas that Mr. Washington and Aaron also commented.

The rest of the day, with take out on the coffee table the couple spent watching TV and enjoying the silence. Y/N ended up falling asleep with a blanket over her body and Thomas with his arm around his girl as his head was tipped back against the couch cushions. That was how Thomas’ parents found the two teenagers when they got home that night. Making the two adults smile and let them sleep, seeing as they both looked comfortable enough.

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[dvddggs]

To the Four of Us (Part Twenty Five)

premise: modern AU chronicling the squad as they make their way through college and deal with general life things. words: 2,803 warnings: death mentions, abuse mentions, swearing, i think that’s all but pls lemme know if I forgot something! all chapters: x tags: @heythereitsloey @anitheunicorn @newyorkyoucanbeanew @lafbagxette @justafangirlwithanavy @iamgrayfox @ordinaryornate @schuylerjoon @angelica-peggy-eliza @trashyperson101 @crazydragon15 @but-if-you-had-to-choose @geespilots @marvelous-hamilfan @mynameisalexanderhammyham @panda-powers @lafeyettegunsandships @schokoobananaa @allthegoodurlshavebeentaken @aphboi @hell-yes-puns-and-ships @aham-threw-his-shot-away @hesitantcat @nonstopspook @hamrevolution @writethewayout @alexander-did-you-know @allthegoodurlshavebeentaken @sun-tree @angelizaandpeggy @isis278 @idk-destiel @engulfedinstars @hamiltrashuniverse @ahrupe @just-me-an-asshole @readfizz @skeletonmelodies @gum-and-chips @iminwaytoomanyfandoms @hadleyelizabethuley @fictionalboyfriends a/n: ur all gonna hate me lmfao bye

dedication: @sun-tree and @schokoobananaa for being like,,, art regulars??? I llove u both 

A funeral. Suits and ties and not knowing how to feel. Alexander had never been to one before, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to do well. As he buttoned his shirt, he watched John sit down on the hotel bed and aggressively yank on his dress pants.

John had been irritable all morning—snapping at Alexander, Hercules, and Lafayette, and only being minimally polite to George. Everyone treaded lightly; none of them were sure how to approach the situation. Even Alexander didn’t really know how John was feeling. Every time he’d attempted to pull him aside and talk to him, John would brush him off with a scowl. After that, Alexander made the executive decision to give him some space.

He had stayed quiet all day except for his attempts to speak to John. He was still thinking about his mother and how she should have had this. Why didn’t he get to dress in a suit and tie to say goodbye to her? Why didn’t he get to say goodbye at all?

After three unsuccessful attempts at tying his tie, John was left sitting on his bed grumbling swear words and aggressively wiping frustrated tears out of his eyes.

“What the fuck,” he snarled. “Why won’t it fucking tie? It’s not working. I’m so fu—”

“John! John, hey, it’s okay,” Lafayette said gently. “Let me help.”

Alexander watched him wrap the tie around his own neck, tie it, then hand it back off to John. He should have offered to help—John was his boyfriend and he knew how to tie a tie, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. If he did, he wasn’t sure what would come out of his mouth. Scanning the room, he caught Hercules’ eye. He’d been watching Alexander for awhile, wondering what was going on in his head. Normally, Alexander would be the first one to offer calming words and support—but something was clearly wrong.

Hercules cocked his head to the side, indicating to Alexander to follow him out into the hall. No one noticed them leave.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked, spinning around to face Alexander.

“Nothing,” Alexander replied quickly, tucking in his shirt.

“Alex,” Hercules deadpanned. “Don’t lie to me. What’s the matter?”

What was he supposed to say? How could he tell Hercules that he was—what was he?—mad at John? Resentful? Jealous? Was he jealous of a funeral?

“Listen, Herc,” Alexander breathed, afraid of speaking too loud. Afraid that speaking too loud would make it real. “I’m just…I’m thinking about my mom a lot. It’s really selfish and I don’t want John to think that I’m not being supportive, so I’m staying quiet. Okay?”

Alexander wasn’t going to go into more detail than that, but it was enough to make Hercules’ expression soften a bit. He pulled his friend in for a hug that surprised Alexander.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t even think of that. I’m sure John understands.”

Understands that Alexander almost resented him at the moment? He hated to even think it—it made him feel sick that he felt this way, but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t fair. Hercules smiled sympathetically and went back into the hotel room, leaving Alexander feeling, somehow, worse than he did before.  

A funeral. Distant relatives and sympathetic smiles. Meeting strangers and talking about the dead. An old room with happy photos. Family.

When they got to the funeral home, John left Alexander, George, Hercules, and Lafayette to seek out his brother, who was graciously accepting condolences from people he had not spoken to in years. Alexander scanned the photos around the room. Smiles, laughter, and good times that all hid the scars and bruises on John’s body. Lies.

Alexander thought about it. He would have displayed his mother’s note to him. He would have wanted everyone to know how much she loved him. How kind she was. How she deserved anything but what she got. He felt a hand on his shoulder. His father. Did he know what Alexander was thinking?

He watched as John hugged his brother tightly and joined the line of sympathy reception. With a deep sigh, Alexander took a seat on the floor in the corner of the room, waiting to be called in for the funeral to start.

Hercules strode across the room and joined him.

“Hey,” he sighed. “How are you doing?”

Alexander shrugged. “It’s not about me.”

“Alex,” Hercules replied. “It’s completely fair that you’re thinking about your mom. I mean, this must be reminding you of her fu—”

“She didn’t have one,” Alexander interrupted, louder than he intended.

“What—?”

“She didn’t get one,” he repeated, voice calculated and quieter this time. “Think about it, Herc. I was seven years old and barely knew any of my relatives. I had no money, and I came to America almost immediately after she died. I don’t even know what—what happened to her…after.”

Hercules didn’t reply—what would he have said? Alexander stood up and crossed the room, leaving him sitting alone on the old carpet.

A funeral. Full pews and empty words. Speeches. More lies.

John and his brother didn’t speak, but most of their relatives did. They talked about how Henry Laurens was a wonderful friend, brother, uncle, and was taken too soon from his poor family.

Alexander watched from the back of the room with his father, Hercules, and Lafayette. At the front, it was clear that John was crying. His shoulders were shaking, as they normally did when he cried. Alexander tried to be sympathetic and present, but he could not stop himself from overthinking.

If his mom had a funeral, it would be him in the front row. He would be alone, probably, but that would be alright. He would have made a speech, and he would have been the one crying. George would have been there—they had been friends. None of the speeches would be lies. His angel nurses would have probably been there, as well as his mother’s doctor. It would have been small. But it would have been authentic.

By the time John’s great aunt—or something—left the stage, Alexander felt like he wanted to throw up. The whole thing was so staged and fake. Could no one else see that? In a room full of people celebrating the life of an abusive alcoholic, was Alexander the only one who could see that it was bullshit? Even John—who had said that part of him wasn’t upset—was caught up in the event. He and his brother clung to each other and held their heads bowed in—respect? Mourning? Sadness?

Alexander had visions of himself standing up and just screaming in frustration. He felt absolutely trapped. Suddenly, he became very hot. His back started sweating and he was overcome with a wave of dizziness. The heat in his face seemed to show, because Lafayette leaned in to ask if he was alright.

Nodding vaguely, Alexander took a deep breath and tried to focus his eyes on something. John. He squinted ahead, praying for the dizziness to pass as he studied the outline of the back of John’s head.

It wasn’t working.

Alexander’s breathing grew shallow and he blinked a few times, hoping that something—anything—would make this feeling pass. He was overcome with emotion—anger, sadness, jealousy, helplessness—and nothing could stop the thoughts swirling in his head, screaming at him.

Why are you here? He does not deserve this. You know who did deserve this? Mom. Where is her goodbye? Why was she left to die alone in a hospital without so much as a proper goodbye? She deserved so much more than what she got. She deserved so much more than what you gave her…

Without knowing what he was doing, Alexander jumped to his feet and all but ran out of the room. In his peripheral vision he saw John turn around but he did not catch his eye. His subconscious carried him to the bathroom where he collapsed to his knees and threw up into the toilet.

The violent retching made his eyes water and before he even knew why, he was full-on sobbing.  Between whimpers, he heard the bathroom door creak open and a gentle voice call his name. His father.

George knocked on the door of the stall and Alexander groaned in response.

“Open up, Lex,” he said quietly.

Alexander drew a rattling breath and stood up, wiping his eyes on his jacket sleeve.

“I t-told you I couldn’t do this,” he gasped. As soon as he opened the door, his father pulled him into a tight hug, resting his chin on the top of Alexander’s head.

“You knew this wouldn’t be easy,” George said gently. He stroked Alexander’s hair and held him close.

“I didn’t know it would be this hard,” Alexander whispered.

“I know, kiddo…I get it—I understand.”

Alexander took a step back, a sudden anger flashing through him.

“Do you though?” he asked, tears still falling down his cheeks. “How can you possibly understand this, Dad? Wanna know something? Right now, about fifty percent of my brain is screaming at me to leave, to never talk to John again. But here I am, throwing up in the bathroom of a funeral home because I’m supposed to be supportive. Right? I’ve never felt so conflicted in my entire life. How am I supposed to support John when he’s crying over someone who actively tried to hurt him? And did hurt him. Why does this—this asshole get a tearful goodbye filled with friends and family when my mom got—what?—a hospital morgue and her son leaving her days after she died? God, that’s so fucked up. This entire thing is so fucked up. And what am I supposed to say? What am I—what can I say?”

He broke down before he could finish his thought. He knew he was being selfish. He knew that he was acting unfair, especially to John. He knew that his father didn’t want to hear it. He knew he was wrong. And yet…

“Alexander.”  

He looked up.

“I’m so sorry,” George said simply.

At his words, Alexander collapsed into his arms, unsure of anything except that he needed to cry.

“I miss her,” he sobbed into his father’s chest.

A funeral. Tearful goodbyes.

Not long after Alexander and his father returned from the bathroom, the service ended and they filed out into another room for the reception. Before long, John caught up with everyone, waving as he teetered a plate full of sandwiches on his palm.

“Hey,” Lafayette said. “How are you?”

John shrugged and offered up the plate of sandwiches. “Kinda ignoring my feelings,” he said casually.

“Wish I could have one,” Alexander scowled, bitter about the wires that still bound his teeth.

“Only one more week,” Hercules said sympathetically.

Alexander shrugged and crossed the room, looking for something that he’d be able to eat. As he walked away, he heard John murmur, “Is he okay?”

Scanning the table for something to eat—or drink—Alexander felt a tap on his shoulder. Expecting his father to be behind him, telling him to lighten up, he whipped around frustratedly.

It was John.

Right away, John noticed that something was wrong. Alexander’s eyes were red and puffy, and the circles beneath them were darker than usual. Had he been crying? When? Was that why he’d left in the middle of the service?

“Are you—?”

“I’m fine,” Alexander snapped.

He knew that he was being short with John but for some reason he couldn’t help it. Just the sight of his face up close made Alexander unjustifiably angry.

“Are you sure?” John pressed. “You’ve barely said two words to me all day…like, not even a ‘how are you.’”

Alexander almost visibly rolled his eyes.

“I said I’m fine, John.”

John sighed, reaching for Alexander’s hand. “Funerals are pretty shitty, huh?”

At those words, Alexander felt his jaw clench. He took a deep breath and shifted his gaze so he was looking John dead in the eye.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he said simply.

John took a step back, confused by the sudden aggressiveness.

“You are kidding, right? I mean, this has to be some form of sick joke. Right?”


“Lex, what are you—”

“Oh, come on, John,” Alexander continued, lowering his voice. “You can’t be serious! Are you actually this oblivious? Of course I’m not okay! All I can think about is how your shitty father doesn’t deserve any of this and how you seem to be completely ignoring that! And, no, I wouldn’t know how ‘shitty’ funerals can be, because my mother—the only person I know who’s died—didn’t fucking get one!”

“Alex—”

For every word Alexander spoke, there were a thousand different voices in his head telling him to stop. He watched John’s expression turn from confusion to sadness to anger to defeat as he began to cry, but Alexander couldn’t stop. Each sentence was an assault on John, but he couldn’t fucking stop.

“And—you know what else?—I’m pretty fucking pissed off about this. I mean—fuck—okay, I’m sorry that your dad died or whatever, but guess what, John? I know what it feels like! And unlike you, I didn't lose an abusive father who treated me like shit! And then mourn him! Do you know what that’s like to watch? How—how unfair it is? I mean—”

“—Alex, please,” John whimpered. “Please stop.”

At some point, Alexander had started crying again, silent tears that dripped off his chin as he spoke. He knew exactly what he was saying, and the impact his words had—and that was probably the worst part.

“Alexander.”

Lafayette had hurried over when he saw John start to cry. Alexander’s back had been to him so he didn't know exactly what was going on, but as he drew closer he’d heard enough.

“Shut the fuck up, will you!?” he hissed, putting an arm around John’s shoulders. “What the hell is your problem?”

Alexander breathed heavily, unable to find the words to respond. He looked between Lafayette and John—who was visibly shaken; he was crying freely and had his face buried in Lafayette’s neck.

“What’s going on?” Hercules asked, approaching the group.

No one responded.

Alexander wiped a tear off his face and folded his arms over his chest, sniffling. He studied the floor and avoided eye contact with his friends. He knew that he had possibly just fucked up his entire life, but what could he possibly say to reconcile?

“John—” he whispered, cut off by Lafayette, who glared daggers in Alexander’s direction as he turned around and led John outside.

“C’mon, Herc,” Lafayette said over his shoulder.

With a glance in Alexander’s direction, Hercules sighed and followed.

Alexander stood in place for a few minutes, replaying everything in his head. It had all happened so fast; one minute he was trying to joke about his injury then before he knew it, he had exploded all over the person he cared most about in the world.

Without thinking, he floated outside in a daze.

John was sitting on the curb between Hercules and Lafayette. His shoulders were hunched over and his friends had their arms wrapped around him.

“John—” Alexander repeated.

“Alex, you need to go,” Hercules said without taking his eyes off of John.

“John—”

“Alexander!” Lafayette all but screamed.

“You’re—an a-asshole,” John cried. “How the fuck could you say those things to me? I thought you cared.”

“I d-do—”

“No, you obviously fucking don’t, Alexander,” John said, climbing to his feet. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself. If that happens to overlap with someone else’s best interests, then great, but ultimately, you don’t give a shit. Remember when you kissed me for the first time? It wasn’t because you loved me, it was because you were bored as fuck with Thomas! And how about when you actually left Thomas for me? Because you were done with him! You wanted more! He wouldn’t have sex, so why stay with him, right? Why not find someone else that will? Am I wrong?”

“John—”

“Shut up. Shut up! Do you even realize the things you just said to me? And here you are about to beg for forgiveness because now you feel bad. Because it doesn’t feel good for poor Alexander. This isn’t even about me! You are here for your own sake—and don’t you fucking dare try to tell me otherwise, because I’m not stupid.”

“Jo—”

“Stop saying my fucking name.”

“But—”

“I’m done.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I just said. I’m done.”

“John—?”

“We’re done.”

A funeral. An end.

[socialattractionuk]

Woman who rebels against her Catholic upbringing by smothering herself in food is searching for a boyfriend who enjoys sploshing too

Mia Cid, 23, is a splosher, meaning she gets pleasure from getting messy (Picture: ClixMessyHot /SWNS.COM)

Mia Cid is a splosher – someone who enjoys squashing and smearing food all over their body.

The 23-year-old gets pleasure from being messy and mucky, often taking part in sexy photoshoots where she smothers herself in cream, chocolate, and cakes.

She says the urge to get dirty emerged when she was young as a rebellion to her strict Catholic unbringing.

‘It started when I was about 11,’ says Mia, a barista who lives in Hollywood, California.

‘I would get these weird impulses when I first started shaving my legs, I really enjoyed the feeling of the shave foam and I thought “I want this everywhere”.

‘If my parents went out I would lock myself in the bathroom and fill up the tub with shave foam and just wriggle around in it for ages.’

She loves to cover her face and body in cakes and creams (Picture: ClixMessyHot /SWNS.COM)

During her teenage years Mia began secretly experimenting with other substances… of the food variety.

‘I used to take whipped cream, chocolate milk, ice cream and puddings from the kitchen and smear them all over myself in the tub…if my mom was out,’ she explains.

‘Mom would always ask “what happened to all the whipped cream?” And I would play it off as if I just had a really sweet tooth or something.

‘My sister used to make chocolate milk with syrup, that caused a lot of arguments.

Mia takes part in fetish photoshoots where she gets naked and smears food over her body (Picture: ClixMessyHot /SWNS.COM )

‘She’d buy a huge bottle of Hershey’s chocolate syrup and the next day it’d all be gone because I’d been bathing in it. But I couldn’t tell her what I’d been doing.’

Mia became increasingly ashamed of her unusual pastime and began to steal cakes from the market just so she could mush them over herself in private.

Each sploshing session would be followed by furious clean-up so Mia’s family wouldn’t find out.

‘I couldn’t talk to anyone about it,’ she says. ‘I felt guilty but I didn’t want to stop because it felt good, so I’d do it in secret, I never told anyone.

Mia says she spends hundreds on cakes and other supplies for her sploshing obsession (Picture: ClixMessyHot /SWNS.COM)

‘I went to a Catholic school where anything erotic was forbidden with the nuns, women weren’t encouraged to seek any kind of pleasure.’

Mia continued to indulge herself in secret until she was 21, when she stumbled across the Instagram page of Brandon Emerson, who runs the site MessyHot, which caters for people who love to get messy and engage in sploshing – also known as a wet and messy fetish, or WAM.

The discovery that there were other people who shared her passion for sploshing gave Mia an immense sense of relief.

She keeps a large supply of shaving foam handy (Picture: ClixMessyHot /SWNS.COM)

‘I felt like I could breathe,’ she said. ‘There was a word for what I was into, sploshing and there were loads of other people out there who felt the same as me… before that day I had I never told a single person.

‘In the environment that I grew up, I felt like a weirdo for even having a sexual drive.’

Now Mia is an ‘out and proud’ splosher and she models for sploshing photoshoots under the stage name Lumlum.

Sploshing can be a pricey pastime, with Mia estimating she spends between $50 (around £40) to $100 just on cakes, creams, pudding, foams, and syrups to rub on her body.

The messier the better for Mia (Picture: ClixMessyHot /SWNS.COM)

She’ll usually stick to a budget, but now and again will treat herself.

‘I still love shave foam, I have a whole shelf in my bathroom devoted to it, I buy in bulk so I won’t run out,’ she explains.

‘In 2017 I spent four months working on a farm, I was kind of isolated and hadn’t been able to do any sploshing, so when I got out I went wild.

‘I rented a place for $200 and laid down a load of tarps, so I could get super messy.

‘Then I bought about $400 worth of stuff. I went crazy, I bought macaroons and meringues, pies, cream, pineapple juice, chunky fruits and canned foods for smooshing.

Mia hopes to find a boyfriend who can take part in her sploshing sessions (Picture: ClixMessyHot /SWNS.COM)

‘I think I was so wound up I wanted to jump on things squish them with my butt and boobs and with my feet, then lick them off my feet. It was fantastic.’

Mia finds it difficult to explain why she loves sploshing so much, but thinks it may be linked to her strict upbringing.

‘I was sent to etiquette school as a kid, which was all “sit up straight, pull up your socks, always be clean” and I was always thinking “just let me play in the dirt”,’ she says.

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‘It’s probably a form of rebellion. Now I love to get really dressed up with hair, makeup, fake eyelashes and a cute outfit and then I just mess it all up, so I’m completely unrecognizable afterwards.’

Mia is now completely open about her sploshing, but is on the hunt for a boyfriend to get messy with.

She says: ‘My last boyfriend was very supportive of my sploshing but he didn’t want to get messy himself, he’d just watch me do it, and maybe buy me some supplies to help out.

‘Now I want to find a partner who is willing to splosh with me for the long term.’

Do you have a story to share? Get in touch by emailing MetroLifestyleTeam@Metro.co.uk.

Share your views in the comments section below.

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[protectorsofthewood]

Abby and Wendy - Episode 38

THE LONG ROAD 

“Hey Abby!” Phoebe turned to catch a glimpse of Abby’s face in the faint light. “You never mentioned all this fascinating stuff. I had no idea.” 

               “Yeah, but remember, I haven’t seen him in ten years.” 

“Isaiah and Ishmael know him too,” added Lluvia. “In fact, the whole band might be staying with Alex.” 

 They were walking along a wandering pathway bordered by thin metal posts holding chains, apparently set up to keep people off the lawn. Sculpted columns held lights throwing shadows across their path. Large stone buildings with arches and gothic decorations appeared across the lawn. Tall oak and maple trees obscured the view ahead. A thin curved moon like a boat sailed slowly across the sky. The campus was quiet, with murmuring voices and music in the background.  

 A wide arch appeared ahead of them, and then a short tunnel led off the campus to a narrow street lined with a row of very old brick houses. Lluvia stopped at one of these small one family dwellings, about five yards wide and two stories high. After a tiny front yard, three windows glowed in the night, one near the door and two above.  

               “Well, there are people here at least,” Abby said. 

 “Of course,” Lluvia replied. “It’s a big deal that we’re visiting. They’re waiting for us.” 

 “How do you know?” Abby sensed that Lluvia knew a lot more about this situation than she had let on. 

 Lluvia laughed. “We’re better organized than you think. We obey the phone rules, but Sharon brings messages back and forth. And I’m here often these days.”  

She knocked on the door, and knocked again. An acoustic guitar and voice suddenly stopped. 

“Yes?” came a voice. “Who is it?” 

“It’s me, Isaiah! Lluvia!” 

The door opened. Isaiah and Lluvia embraced. Abby glanced around at the mess in the small multi-purpose room. There were pizza boxes on the floor, two open duffel bags with loose clothing, a sleeping bag, books, two guitars and a drum set, and prints all over the walls. Isaiah pushed some books on the couch onto the floor, and moved a couple of folding chairs. 

“Please, have a seat,” he said. “Lluvia, Abby, Phoebe, sorry for the chaos here, and sorry to be the only one to welcome you. The others should be back… well, it’s hard to say. There’s a lot going on.” Isaiah raised a hand as if to dismiss the whole subject. “What about Alex?” asked Lluvia.  

“I thought he was at the gallery.” 

“Mmm… we were just there. In fact, we were supposed to meet him there.” 

“Welcome to Evansville College,” said Isaiah sarcastically.

There’s something sad in his eyes, thought Abby. “You don’t look too happy. Anything we can do?” Isaiah shrugged. 

Abby looked at Lluvia, who was speechless and seemed shocked. Clearly she had not expected this reception. Abby decided to pursue Isaiah, get him to open up. “I heard that song through the door,” she said. “I still hear it in my head. What song is that?” 

“Oh, just something I’ve been working on. I think I finished it.” 

“Let’s hear it.” 

“I’m a bad guitar player. I won’t do it justice.” 

“Through the door it sounded… well, powerful. I’m really interested.” Abby handed him a guitar. He’s depressed, she thought. Lonely, but more than that.

Isaiah played a few chords and hummed a melody, not a fast rhythm but not slow either. A very solemn tune. He began to sing: 

                        Take me up on the long road 

                      Where the heavens open wide 

                       I want to tell you just how much we care 

                      Won’t you listen to our cry 

                      Do you ever show your hand 

                      Can anyone ever know 

                      It’s all that we can do to crawl 

                       And it’s a long long way to go 

                        Climbing up the distant ladder 

                       Sometimes the heart’s the only guide 

                        I want you to know about the love we share 

                       I want you to see how hard we try 

                      Take one step at a time 

                       When you’re feeling so empty 

                       You’ve got to lose just to live 

                       I don’t see nothing here for free 

                        Can I do something for you 

                       Can you do something for me 

                       Cause it’s way after midnight 

                      And I can barely see 

                       Take me for a ride on your railroad 

                       Take me for a ride up to the sun 

                       I want to know the place where we go 

                       Where our lives are lost and won 

 The song was over. There was a moment of silence. “Oooo…” murmured Lluvia.  

“Definitely… powerful,” repeated Abby. 

There was silence again. Finally, Lluvia said, “It’s about you, right? We’re your friends. Come on, let us in, what’s up?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it. But… I know I have to… Okay, the big news is I’m catching Sharon’s boat early tomorrow. I’ll miss the big concert in the courtyard tomorrow night. I told Cali, but haven’t spoken to anyone else. Maybe Cali will find them.” 

“Something important must have happened.” Lluvia put her hand on his knee. “Come on, let us in.” 

“My mother’s sick. She’ll have some kind of procedure done on her eye tomorrow morning, and be in the hospital for a few days. I’m frightened for her.” They waited. 

“She got Sharon to find me and say I should act as pastor on 

Sunday in the church, unless Sonny wants to do it. In which case I should support Sonny and run Sunday school. Junior’s in River City for a meeting. He’s away more often than he’s home. And I am too!”  

Isaiah opened his arms as if pleading with them. “We’re deserting our responsibilities. I don’t like it here. Everyone is a kid, a mob of twenty-year olds looking for girlfriends or boyfriends, socializing like mad. There’s no one here like me. I’m not interested in assistant professors and college events. I’m thirty-four years old, and not making any money – though we are supposed to get paid for our radio concert – but I don’t care, they’ll give me my share later. And then they’ll go to River City for a show, but I won’t go. And… any moment they’ll walk in and I’ll spoil their evening, but I don’t care. I can’t do this any longer.” Lluvia hugged him. 

“They won’t even have time to practice the band without me!” Isaiah was almost yelling with frustration. “It’s such a mean thing I’m doing. You got to lose just to live.” He had tears in his eyes. 

“I think you’re doing the right thing,” Abby said. 

“Yeah,” Lluvia said softly. “It’s important to be pastor if they need you. These kids in Sunday school are important. How about Wednesday night at the Open Gate? Hundreds of people come every week. With Junior and Cali gone, who can run it? You have jobs to do.” 

“I do. I do. And I like my jobs. I like the band too, but I end up sitting around here, feeling out of place. My band and their friends are over ten years younger than me. These students are even younger. You should hear the stuff they talk about. Debating the end of the world. Dystopia, everything’s about dystopia. I hate these discussions. Let’s do something about it! They talk about Alex’s fire breathing dragon as if the end is near. And that dragon pouring out the flood…” – he motioned to a nearby print of The Ark on the wall – “you see it everywhere.”   

Lluvia backed up and gave Isaiah a stare. “Now don’t go overboard on me, that’s not fair. The Students Against Fossil Fuels are trying. You see STAFF shirts all over. We’ve just come from a meeting where we were all trying to do something. Alex isn’t predicting the end of the world. His Ark is about getting through the flood with all life. The dragon is just nature striking back against our mistakes. You must have heard Alex’s idea. He wants to give Students Against Fossil Fuels a new name: SAD, for Students Against Distopia.” 

“Mmm… I like that,” Isaiah replied. “But I’m not a student, and I’m not going to be one. How old are you, Lluvia?” 

“Why ask that? I’m twenty-two.” 

“See? That’s my point. You like Alex. You’re in a different stage of life. And you’re right, I know I’m being unfair, venting all this to you. I’ll get over it. At least now I know what I should be doing. The band will survive. They’ll figure it out.” 

Abby broke into the conversation. “You’re right. Don’t feel guilty. They’ll understand. And who can argue with your mother, your church, your community? Lluvia and I grew up there, went to Sunday school there. We would never be where we are without adults who cared.” 

Phoebe suddenly had a few words to say. “The band will survive. I know them. We’re on your side. Do what you need to do. Now, I’m going to clean up this place. How did it become such a mess? We’re staying here too.”  

Abby and Lluvia and Isaiah joined in.  

Cali and Alex arrived, and received a warm welcome from all. Abby and Alex embraced and stared at each other. Everyone felt a burst of energy and sat around the coffee table with several conversations going on at once. Cali did her best to relieve Isaiah’s anxieties. She had spoken to George, Eddy, and Ishmael. They were already making plans on the phone. Rain was predicted for the following evening, and Sara had received permission to move the concert indoors. In fact, explained Cali, they might be able to play in the beautiful old auditorium in Alexander Hall. That circular stone building was the most prestigious place for music on campus.  

Plus, Sara wanted Ishmael, Eddy, and George to show up early the following morning at the trustee event. “Sara’s afraid the trustees will delay presenting their position on disinvestment,” Cali explained. “People could get restless and annoyed. Sara wants the band to hold the crowd if that happens.”  

Nobody was mad at Isaiah; Cali was sure of that. The band would set up in Alexander Hall early in the afternoon, and could practice for hours. The concert would begin at 7pm.  

Alex offered beer, wine, coffee, or tea. Phoebe, Lluvia, and Abby were exhausted, and wanted peppermint tea and a place to sleep. Isaiah was packing his things in a duffel bag.  

“So where is everybody?” asked Isaiah.  

“Well, George and Ishmael are in Sara’s dorm,” Cali answered. “Eddie is somewhere with Stephanie, and I’m invited to a party and only stopped by to bring you the news.” 

I’ve got to say something, thought Abby. I need to know something! “Cali, wait a second. I haven’t seen George since that disaster in the churchyard. He hasn’t returned to Middletown since then. 

I need to know how he’s doing… It was so painful for him.” 

“Yeah, it was,” Cali replied softly, almost in a whisper. “But he likes it here. It’s kind of… well, liberating for him to be away from all that tension. He’s writing songs, gets along with Sara and her friends. He can’t stay in Sara’s dormitory forever, but so far it’s okay.” 

Abby breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, that really helps.” 

“It’s all okay,” Cali said. She headed out the door and said she’d be back in a couple of hours. There was a long silence.

Then Lluvia looked at Alex. “Where were you? We saw your gallery, but you didn’t show up.” 

“I’m sorry… I was at the big staff meeting. We’re organizing tomorrow’s…” He hesitated. “Event…gathering… demonstration? Who knows what it is, or how it will come off. Sara and Amy are desperate to give it some respectability and prestige. They asked everyone to act as security, speak to the campus police about any problems, intervene on people trying to disrupt. The meeting went on and on, but at least we have a plan. Staff will show at 8am and drink coffee, and greet people as they arrive. I’m not used to this sort of thing, but I’m doing my best. No banners, no signs allowed. We’re all supposed to wear STAFF t-shirts. Here, I’ve got a few to give you.” He reached into his backpack and handed out the shirts. 

“How exciting,” exclaimed Lluvia. “That’s wonderful… I’m so… proud of you. I can’t wait.” 

Alex smiled at her. “See, I’m not such an irresponsible, no-good, undisciplined…” 

“Now that’s unfair!” Lluvia retorted. “I never said those things.” 

Alex was surprised and immediately apologized. “Of course you didn’t. I was just thinking of what my sister used to call me, maybe even still calls me. I shouldn’t pin it on you. Please forgive me.” 

They hugged. Phoebe and Abby looked at each other and smiled, nodding at each other. They had guessed correctly. 

They drank their tea in silence. Alex looked around anxiously. “I know I haven’t been much of a host, but we do have a bed and two cots in the front room upstairs. Cali sleeps right here on the couch. George stays with Sara, Eddy stays with Stephanie, and Ishmael stays with friends I haven’t met yet. Isaiah and I have the back room. I hope that’s okay.” 

He looked from one to another. No one replied. “Please, we can change the arrangement if there’s a problem…” 

“No, of course not,” Abby said. “It’s all fine, please don’t worry, just wake us early. We’ll wear our new shirts and follow everything you do in the morning.” 

“I’m thrilled to be here!” exclaimed Phoebe. “Thank you, Alex!” 

Abby reached out and touched his hand. “Yes, and please don’t apologize. We’ll have a chance to catch up on the years gone by… maybe tomorrow afternoon?” 

“Oh, I’d love that, I’m so curious about all you’ve done. And by the way, I’ve got a print to give you tomorrow before you leave. I’d love to hear your reaction to it. I was thinking of you when I drew it. I don’t know what it means. It came out of a dream.” 

“I’d love to see it. And I loved your show. I even bought a print!” 

“You shouldn’t have done that! I’ll give you any print you like.” 

“That’s okay, I’m glad I bought it, and I’m eager to see whatever you want to give me.” 

“I’ve got to tell you,” Alex went on, “you’re famous here in Evansville. Everyone follows the news. You should know that people will try to interview you tomorrow.” 

“No, please! If anyone asks, just say I’m only here to listen. Tell the other staff.” Abby was very firm, and obviously worried. 

“Ah, I’m glad you mentioned it,” Alex replied. “I’ll bring it up early tomorrow. That’s the kind of thing Sara and Amy need to know. They’ll probably assign campus security to watch over you.” 

Please! thought Abby. I need to be invisible.  

Phoebe and Lluvia were looking at her. “We’ll stick with you,” Phoebe said.