#anyway so george calling florida home back to back to dream saying they will probably get another place “soon” KILLS ME

[demonstars]

FL/LA shift, many dnf thoughts (dream, nov. 2023—george, feb. 2025)

[alaffy]

Nancy Drew, 1x11 – The Phantom of Bonny Scot

Just out of curiosity (and I know I could looking this up) was the actor who played Ace also finishing up another job?  I know sometimes actor’s who play main characters might, occasionally, disappear for an episode or two; but usually not during the first season.

Nancy has a dream that shows that she clearly is unsure of her feelings for Owen and Nick.  At least, it’s clear she feels something for Owen; but she’s either not quite ready to face that her feelings for Nick have changed or feels guilt that they have changed.  However, it doesn’t matter as there’s suddenly a loud pounding sound coming from the crawl space under the stairs.  Nancy investigates, there’s a jump scare with Lucy, and Nancy wakes up.

Assuming Lucy isn’t actually interested in Nancy’s love life, Nancy goes downstairs and starts to rummage through the items under the crawl space.  There she finds some of her mother’s old files from when she worked at the school as a guidance counselor.  Unsurprisingly, one of those files is Lucy’s; but it’s empty.  Scratch that, someone has purposely removed the papers from the file as there are fragments of torn paper left behind.  

Nancy goes to visit Carson in jail.  Nancy immediately starts apologizing and telling him she’ll show that he isn’t guilty; but he’s more concerned with how she’s doing.  Nancy tells Carson about the file and asks if he knew why it was empty. Carson says he doesn’t as Nancy’s mom was very careful with her paperwork.  And while Carson could be a good actor, it does seem like generally he’s surprised about the folder being empty.  We learn after that Carson and his wife did share an office at home.  What’s more, Everett Hudson did stop by the house, which means he could have taken the papers.  But he would have destroyed them (which, I mean, he literally has stolen treasure kept in semi-secure areas; so I wouldn’t be so sure about that). Anyway, Carson wants Nancy to leave this alone.  Nancy says she will if he fights this.  They go back and forth. Scene ends.

Nancy goes to The Claw and finds Bess out front.  Bess in excited/panicking because she’s been invited to have lunch with Aunt Diana that day. Meanwhile, George finds out the owners of The Claw are going to put the restaurant on the market as, mostly, the restaurant isn’t doing well.  Outside, Nick is meeting with his court ordered counselor.  It turns out it’s their last meeting.  We also find out that Nick has been avoiding his parents, who are in Florida, since his time in prison.  

Nancy goes to meet with Everette Hudson.  She wants him to place a phone call to a judge and let him know what the money Carson was paid was actually for, as that is one of the main reasons he’s being held (still, wouldn’t explain the fingerprints Nancy).  She knows he’ll want someone in return.  Everett basically wants Nancy to stop Owen from “falsely claiming” his family had anything to do with the Bonny Scot sinking or that that they have any of the treasures.  Or rather, he wants Nancy to do the job Carson normally would do; find out what evidence Owen has.  

As Nancy is about to leave the house, however, Lucy leads her upstairs.  There she finds a picture and there’s water leaking at the base of it. But here’s the interesting thing about the photo.  It’s a portrait of Everette, Celia, and Ryan.  The funny thing is, there is a huge gap between the parents and Ryan; almost as if there should be a person in between them.  Sure enough, we see Dead Lucy in the painting for a moment.  It means that probably somebody has been removed, but who?

Meanwhile, Bess shows Lisbeth her home and tells her more about herself.  We find out she came to the US to be an Au Pair; but was fired for steeling.  She can’t go back to London, but her Visa is expired.  She’s hoping the Marvin’s can help her get a Green Card.  But here’s the thing, if her mother is still a US Citizen and they can prove that her mother is a citizen; she wouldn’t need a Green Card. I mean, it’s still proving the mother’s citizen status and that Bess is her daughter (and probably the wonderful questions of why the mother didn’t report the birth to the US Embassy).  I’m probably thinking about this too much.  

Back at The Claw, George has called Ryan over to ask for his help.  If he will front the money for The Claw, George is sure that she can get the business running with a profit again.  Ryan asks why George doesn’t just go work somewhere else…well, it seems like the town isn’t exactly a fan of George’s family.  Ryan, in the end, tells George he can’t because of what’s he’s got going on with his family.  

In the locker room, Nancy and Bess talk about the impending lunch.  Long story short, Nancy wonders if Owen will be at the lunch.  Nancy tells Bess what Everette wants her to do. Now, Nancy isn’t planning on selling out Owen; but she hopes that she can get some leverage if Everette thinks she’s willing to do so.  Bess is able to let Nancy know where Owen is.  Nancy tries calling him one more time.  As she sees him reject her call; she and Bess fallow him in Nancy’s car.

It turns out Owen has been avoiding Nancy because he’s been investigating the Bonny Scot and he’s found a survivor.  Someone he was just about to meet with at the survivor’s apartment.  The man was a stowaway (although he was probably a teenage at the time).  He had paid one of the crew members to allow him to hide on the boat, so he could come to America.  It was easy to hide, because the treasure never made it into the shipping containers on the boat.  The reason this person, Bashiir, survived is because he happened to sneak above deck one night.  When he was on deck, a bomb went off below deck.  Then he made it to a life raft and when he was picked up by a fishing crew. He told them to drop him off where the boat was supposed to go.  Of course, he didn’t tell anyone the truth because…well, he’s an undocumented Somalian and there is a good chance that he would immediately be viewed as a suspect. Bess and Owen suggest that, if there was someone who would help with his immigration status, then he could come forward in return.  Understandably, he’s afraid as there’s a lot of risk involved here (and, let’s face it, it is extremely unlikely that his story would be believed at this point). Nancy sees water trickling down his walls and asks how his apartment got the water stains.  At which point, the man asks them to leave.  

Bess, of course, wants to help him as she does understand not wanting to be forced to leave.  And on that note, she goes to the lunch with Diana. Nancy and Owen talk.  Owen didn’t tell Nancy about the man because of what’s she’s been dealing with recently.  It also seems to be foreshadowing that Owen isn’t going to be in Nancy’s life for the long run.        

Back at The Claw, George opens up to Nick about why this place means so much to her.  Basically, it’s been more of a home to George then her actual home.  Nick suggests a party to remind the locals of why The Claw is such a big deal.  He even offers to help for free.  As much as these two characters are hanging out together, I’m guessing they’re going to hook up at some point?  

The lunch with Diana seems to be going well.  Diana wants to bring Bess into the family business and hopes that this young heiress they know will kind of mentor Bess.  Well, there is one issue…maybe.  They don’t mind Bess having fun with Lisbeth, but it can’t be more then that.  Of course, they also think Lisbeth it just a driver; so opinions might change if the truth is known.  Anyway, they want Bess to come to dinner tomorrow night.  

Back at The Claw, oh wow, they’re having the party so soon?  Um, gee, it would be better to give time for promotions, don’t you think?  Uh, so George convinces Nick to add his name to one of the undersides of a table (it’s a thing) and they seem to be getting close; when Nancy walks in.  George goes elsewhere and Nancy has a talk with Nick.  Nancy feels like she’s a bad person because, while she isn’t going to turn over the witness to Everett, she has thought about doing so.  Even if she could hide his identity, it would mean Everett gets away with killing twelve people.  Nick lets her know that, if Nancy were a bad person, she wouldn’t be having these thoughts.  Nancy also tells him about the water damage in the apartment.  The thing is, the water is salt water; which seems like a Lucy thing.  But it couldn’t be…unless it’s those who died on the ship.  Nancy flashes to a clock in the apartment, which seems to have stopped at a specific time.  Nancy says that she and Nick should go visit him.  Which Nick agrees to.  Of course, this means he just abandoned George to get ready for the party.  

They go to the apartment and there is water running from under the doorway.  Nancy manages to break open the door and she hear the Bashiir screaming and just a wave of water comes rushing out.  But we see that part of the apartment is the Bonny Scot.  It turns out Bashiir did try to save the crew, but…the door on the boat must have been locked as nobody seems to be able to open it. Does this mean someone from the crew set the bomb and locked in the crew?  If so, they must have escaped somehow.  

So, we find out that Bashiir has been haunted like this every night for three weeks.  Which means that this is happening because of the séance. Nick and Nancy are able to convince Bashiir that if he wants to do right be those who died, as well as stop the hauntings, then the best thing Bashiir can do is let the authorities know the truth. Bashiir wants to show Nancy and Nick something.  And now I’m lost.  It turns out to be a fragment of the bomb.  Which Bashiir said he used as a shield to protect himself from the fire when he broke out to escape the fire.  But earlier he said he was on the deck and he knew it was a bomb because he grew up during a war. So, did he go back inside to get the men or….? It’s the Dues ex Machina thing again.  He just so happens to have a piece of the bomb, but it doesn’t make sense that he would have it.  Unless this is supposed to be suspicious.  

The next day, Nancy calls Ryan and she tells him about her deal with Everett.  Ryan doesn’t want to get involved, but it seems like Nancy isn’t really interested in Ryan.  See, Ryan was driven there by Lisbeth and it’s very clear by the look Nancy and Lisbeth give each other; Nancy wants Lisbeth to know something.  But, and I really have to ask this, if Lisbeth is working for the Hudson family why would Ryan even have this conversation within earshot of someone he thinks is loyal to his family?  After all, he’s not paying her.  

At The Claw, Nick realizes that George has been up all night getting ready for the party.  Nick apologizes and George doesn’t want to hear it.  She accuses him of hiding behind other people’s projects…which is sort of true?  But at the same time, Tiffany was someone who cared about him and, of course, he’s going to want to deal with someone who may lead them to finding out what happened to her?  

We’ve skipped to the dinner Bess was invited to.  It’s a meal between the Marvins and the Hudsons that is nothing more then a bitch fest with vague threats.  Suddenly, Nancy comes in and says she have business with Everett; she then announces to the room that Owen has found a survivor of the Bonny Scot.  Nancy and Everett go into his office to talk.  The families snipe at each other.  Celia says the insurance money would be a pittance compared to what they actually would have made; so, there’s no reason for them to destroy the ship. Diana suggests that maybe Everett wanted to kill Sabastian because he was screwing Celia.  Ryan is shocked and Bess is clearly cursing she ever took that DNA test.  

Meanwhile, Nancy is with Everett.  She lets him know about all of the evidence.  Everett wonders what he can do to make this all go away.  Nancy says that Bashiir just wants a retirement package and a Green Card.  Everett says it can be done and he’ll also set up a new identity so Bashiir can’t be found.  Nancy hands over an account number and Evertt, who you’d think would be savvy enough to want an ounce of physical proof, just decides to immediately wire over 2 million to the account.  However, the account is a fake and Lisbeth is there to arrest him for the deaths of those on the Bonny Scot (Which, realistically, all you really have him on is impeding a police investigation.  Maybe insurance fraud if they’ve found some of the missing items.  But Everett wanting to hide Bashiir, while suspicious, isn’t concrete evidence that he had something to do with the bomb).  

Anyway, Everett is arrested and Celia demands how he could let this happen.  Everett said he should have left when he found out about the affair. Meanwhile, in the confusion, Nancy goes back to the painting upstairs.  She feels around the corner and finds a hidden panel.  Inside, are her mother’s missing documents about Lucy.  (Knew he wouldn’t be smart enough to get rid of them). Nancy goes to her car and Owen catches up to her.  It turns out that Owen was in on the plan all along.  Good news, Owen is going to help Bashiir.  And then Nancy and Owen share their first kiss.  Owen asks if he can take her out, but Nancy refuses.  

Back at the Hudson’s, Celia and Ryan are sitting outside while the police cart off several box from the house (also, there’s a maid cleaning inside, which…somehow I don’t think would be happening at that moment). Celia says Everett will be out soon, however Ryan tells her about the Grecian urn from the Bonny Scot.  It’s clear he’s trying to make some sort of threat but, honestly, seeing as how the family seems to be keeping a number of these treasures just lying around…I have a feeling the police will run into something sooner or later.  But let’s go with the threat.  Ryan is going to try to take control of the company.

At The Claw, the party is a hit.  Dawn, the owner, is impressed with what George has done.  Still, it isn’t enough to change Dawn’s mind.  In fact, she already has a buyer lined up.  At Bess’ camper, Bess and Lisbeth admit that they’re falling in love with each other.  Back at The Claw, we find out that Nick is the one who inquired about buying The Claw. The plan is Nick would go into partnership with George; fifty-fifty.  However, since George doesn’t have the money, Nick will loan her the money and, once The Claw is making money again, she can pay Nack back.  

Nancy is talking to her Dad on the phone.  Nancy is hoping that, by stirring the hornets’ nest, she is forcing Carson to start defending himself in order to come back and keep Nancy safe.  Carson says that he’ll call his lawyer.  He can’t prove anything about Lucy.  But there are things about the Hudson’s he can use to leverage a plea deal for now.  Is Carson going to make is past the first season?  (This is rhetorical, I already know the answer).

I like how we see, at the end of the episode, that Nick is staying with Bashiir in order to see if the ghosts come back.  They do not. Which is great.  Now, how is Bashiir going to explain the water damage to the apartment manager again?  

Meanwhile, Nancy is going through Lucy’s file.  Lucy says Celia is spreading rumors about her.  Lucy says that, if her mother finds out, she’ll kill her.  The thing is, Lucy sounds like she’s serious.  So, could Lucy’s mother be the killer?  (Most likely not.  But we have seven more episodes, so we have to drag this out somehow).

Meanwhile, Celia calls someone on a cell phone and let’s them know she wants Carson silenced permanently.  Then, Celia throughs the phone into the bay.  Well, at least there’s one smart criminal in this show.    

[dontlikemelons]

influence II reader x dream

(please only consume this content if you are 18+, this fic contains sexual themes that may not be the most appropriate for younger audiences. thank you!)

it’s my first post! im still very much testing out the waters with my writing style, so i am totally open to any (constructive) criticisms you guys have (ex. nicknames you’d like me to use, certain things you’d like me to write about,etc.) i hope you enjoy! 

- mel (a.k.a. melons 🍉)

Clay has been on a call, talking with George and Nick for a while since you got home. Usually, you’re understanding about the hours that go into the behind-the-scenes of his channels -- even encouraging him to work when he’d rather spend the days cuddled in the Florida apartment you share. This time, however, you’re not having a good day. After countless incidents with stubborn customers and a run in with some family you’d distanced yourself from, all you could think about was getting home to Clay and Patches. When you got home though, he seemed too preoccupied to even say “hi”. You hopped in the shower, hoping that he’d be a bit more attentive by the time you were done. After finishing your shower and changing into comfier clothes, you go to ask him if he’s nearly done. Surprisingly, you’re only met with a cold “no” and nothing else. You leave and go to the bedroom, annoyed with his sudden coldness towards you. 

Clay notices your stiffness in response to him. “Shit- one sec guys, sorry. I think y/n’s mad at me. I, uh, I think I should log off for the night anyway, we’ll finish this tomorrow. George, make sure the coding for the video is all set please. I’ll talk to you guys later.” He quickly moves from his chair to the closed bedroom door. Concerned, he tries to apologize. “y/n? I’m sorry I didn’t mean to be so harsh. We’ve just been working on the code for this video all day and-”

 You stand about a foot away from the mirror, arms crossed, facing away from him. Noticing your bothered demeanor, he starts to walk towards you. His footsteps were firm and purposeful, but soft. He knew that heavy footsteps made you nervous and he didn’t want to make you even more upset than you already seemed. 

“y/n? Little flower...” he says in a somewhat soft and teasing tone -- he knew you had a weak spot for that nickname. You feel your hair stand on edge as he approaches you from behind, his brooding figure towering over you in the mirror you now share. You try to keep looking down, but can’t help but shoot him a glance in the reflection. This glance shows the both of you that there’s more than just anger on your mind.

“Oh, c’mon now, look at me. You know how I love those gorgeous eyes of yours.” His arm snakes around your waist, grips your left hip and spins you to face him. As he steps closer, you step further, determined to maintain your authority. Soon enough, your upper back meets the cool mirror you were just staring into. He reaches out with his pointer finger, tilting your chin upwards to meet his gaze. “Chin up for me, baby.”

For a moment, you forget that you’re supposed to be angry with him. You drown in his glare, swimming in his olive green eyes and taking in the universe that seemed to exist behind them. “There’s my baby, just look into my eyes,” he says, noticing the sudden softness in you. “See the love I have for you, I know you can feel it.” You snap out of it, but as you try to look away, his hand moves to the back of your head to keep you where you are. He thinks for a moment before speaking, his thumb narrowly brushing your cheekbone and the area under your left eye. You love when he makes his thinking face, when you can see the gears in his beautiful mind turning. Even more, the anticipation of what he’s going to say next.

He moves his right hand from the nape of your neck to match the other, which is firmly planted on the wall on the other side of your head. “You try to act like this stubborn little thing, like you’re looking for a reaction. I know you’re not bitter like this, and when you are it probably means you’ve had a bad day. Even so, this whole act you’ve got going is a bit more exaggerated than it usually is.” Shit. You really were frustrated, and you know your feelings were valid. But at the same time, you know that your stress can sometimes require more...sensual coping mechanisms. 

“Your stress tends to make you a little more bratty from what I’ve seen. All this while I know that the only thing I have to do is whisper a couple special words into your ear and slowly...run my fingers...down your body…” He trails off in thought, tracing your body in a way that sends goosebumps spiraling everywhere. He starts to lower his voice to a tone that he knows is another weakness of yours, and continues his sentence. “...And you’ll be melting at my touch. Isn’t that right baby? Show me how you melt for me, you know how I love it.” As your eyes flutter closed, you can feel your knees go weak and your head spin at his words. He lowers himself to be at eye level with your waist, running his hands down the back of your thighs. 

“You...You know exactly what you're doing don’t you? I-I’m supposed to be mad at you here. You’re being incredibly i-inconsiderate right now-” you struggle to exclaim, losing the sharpness you intended to add with those words. 

He whispers, “Oh am I?” Noticing the faltering in your knees, he tightens his grip. As he slowly moves his hands back up towards your back, your legs give out. When you fall to your knees, he stands and looks down at you with an air of satisfaction in what he’s accomplished.

“Look at you. My little mess, not even able to stand after my hands make contact with your skin. When I asked you to show me how you melt for me, I didn’t think you would actually end up on the ground but...I do like looking at you from this angle.” You feel yourself getting wet and look up at him, face red from embarrassment. He can tell by the look on your face (and the small squeal that you happened to let out as you fell) that you’re unsure of what to do. He kneels back down beside you, placing his hand by your crotch, where you knew he’d feel the heat and dampness radiating from your core. 

“My goodness, already a whimpering mess for me,” he says, tucking a bit of hair that fell into your face behind your ear with his free hand. Seeing your fluttering eyes, he slowly and teasingly inches his fingers closer to your clit, noticing the wet patch on your underwear. “Oh, what’s this? A puddle forming already? Poor little flower, do you want me to help with that?” You nod, prompting him to pick you up bridal-style and carry you to the bed.

“T-thank you,” you mutter quietly. 

“Of course, baby, anything for you,” he whispers. “You know how much I love you. Now, relax and breathe steady for me. I’ll be expecting more from where all that came from…”

[princessofprocrastination]

Nothing But Hatred (GeorgeNotFound)

MASTERLIST 

pairing : georgenotfound / george davidson x reader

summary : you had nothing but love for people, even strangers. so how could george hate you so much? 

a/n : long imagine? i owe you guys this. also, happy new years!

you were taught since young to love people. 

“you don’t know what they have gone through before.” your mum always reminded you whenever you would complain to her about someone. 

and since then, the quote stuck to you. it was planted in your head even more when she passed away. you couldn’t describe the pain to other people. 

your dad also left the earth soon after her, following suite. his last words to you in the hospital were “i know you can take care of yourself, i believe in you. always.” you just turned eighteen then. 

since you were a legal adult, the house was automatically yours. now, you’re twenty-one, and since then, you have moved out. 

you found yourself a decent sized house. born and raised in florida, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the country, or state, that is. that’s just one thing you couldn’t bring yourself to do. 

you often forget that you’re on your own, no parents. born the only child, no siblings. and since you are a legal adult and everyone thinks you’re all good on your own, seeing that you have done many things on your own, your relatives don’t pry in your life. 

no, you weren’t lonely, if you say so yourself. you and dream, or clay, as you call him are best friends. literally platonic soulmates. you met him when you both are seventeen. he stayed with you through everything. 

when he started blowing up on social media, you were ecstatic. but you would often jokingly brag to him that you blew up way before he did. 

you didn’t understand why people watched you, if you were being honest. clay would say that it’s because of your charming and kind self that brought so many supportive people. you don’t agree. 

you never once pried in clay’s life. in social media and in real life. who’s his friends are his and you never would try to come across that. your friends and yours and his friends are his. simple. 

when clay blew up, no one knew that the two of you even knew each other, let alone best friends. they found that out weirdly. somehow they heard clay screaming in your kitchen when you were streaming. that clearly was a common occurrence for you since you barely even acknowledged it. 

yes, before anyone asks, there were shipping comments immediately after that. but, you two talked about it on stream, about how you two were nothing but amazing friends. but neither of you mind the ship comments. the fanarts have always been so incredible. 

being the biggest supporter of clay, or dream, you watched every single stream, video, liked posts of his, so you knew who his friends were. 

although you told clay that you didn’t want to pry into his life, he begged you to talk to his friends. you clicked so well with everyone. beside george. you didn’t understand it at first. whenever you’d watch his streams, he’d seem so nice and welcoming. 

but somehow, whenever you’d join in their discord or play in the dream smp, his tone would change drastically. 

after some time, you got the memo. he just didn’t like you. and you accepted that. not everyone would like you, so you backed off. you gave excuses to clay if george was present. 

you didn’t want to be the one interrupting his stream or be the cause of his mood change. so you stayed away, and so far, it had been better that way. 

you and clay were different in some ways. everyone is. but to be more specific, he made his money off of social media. and no, this wasn’t to say that he is below you. in fact, he was lucky that he got to do that. 

and this also didn’t meant that you couldn’t live off of your streaming money, you just rather do something other than social media. you wanted to make sure that if one day your social media career were to flop, you’d have a backup plan. 

but you didn’t want to put your degree to waste. your mum used to tell you all the time to study all while you are still young, so that you don’t regret it when you’re older. 

so that is what you did. you spent your years studying psychology, something you’ve always wanted to do. and in your free time, you’d stream or make videos. you didn’t tell that to the public, wanting that part of you to be private and away from social media. 

and one more thing, you never once brought up the loss of your parents to the public. you wanted people to like you for you, and not want them to like you for pity. hence, no one besides clay knew about your parents. 

and lucky for you, clay understood and no one had brought up any questions about your parents. they just knew you lived alone. 

you sat on clay’s bed, on your laptop, typing in important paperwork that had to be done from home. he invited you over. he told you he was lonely and that he needed the company. and in exchange of your company, he’d buy the both of you takeout for dinner. 

so you agreed. you told him that you being there would make no difference since you would be sat in the corner doing work anyways but he still begged you to come, saying that he didn’t mind it, that he just wanted you to be there. 

that is another common occurrence. there are days when he just needed someone to be there with him, in the same room. you never asked why but you enjoyed the company too, so you never bothered to know. 

as you sat on his bed typing, he was on his desk recording a minecraft hitmen video for his youtube with george, sapnap and badboyhalo. you could feel the nerves coming from him. 

he did need to pay his friends if he lost, after all. not that he cared about money but his ego was too big to lose now. 

you heard him bang his desk as he won, somehow by flying a boat. your best friend was a genius anyways, so you were not surprised that he did something new. 

now they were just talking on discord, you still typing on your laptop, unmoving from your spot on his bed. 

“you hungry?” clay asked you, to which you didn’t reply, since you were too focused into your work. he called your name another two times before you stopped typing and looked up at him. 

you shook your head, and pointed to your laptop, telling him that you just wanted to get this done before the two of you ate. he continued talking to his friends after that. 

“yeah she’s here. i just needed the company.” you heard him say. you knew he was talking about you. his friends probably asked who he was talking to earlier, anyway. 

“george, stop.” you heard him say. your heart sunk a little. you could hear the conversation going on in discord. you had heard george saying something along the lines of ‘if she’s here i’m out.’

that really hurt, but you knew you had to suck it up. “i’ll leave, it’s okay.” you said, closing your laptop and picking up your stuff. 

“wait, don’t leave. he’s jok-” 

“i’ll see you another day, clay. go have fun.” you cut his sentence, smiling at him as you left his room, and place. 

as you sat in your car, driving home, you wondered if you were really unlikeable. clay always said that you are the nicest person he’s ever met yet you never believed him. this was the reason. why did his friend hate you so damn much?

you tried to push it to the back of your mind. you parked your car in your house garage, but stayed in the car. 

at this time you wished you had your parents still. death comes to everyone at some point, and you knew that. but it felt unfair, not having both your parents. you wished you still had them to talk to, to hug and cry to whenever you had a bad day.

weeks pass since that uneventful day and you are not having the best day. 

to sum it up, you went to work early, ready to meet your mentor, to teach you the way around your workplace. however, your mentor had called in sick and apologized to you. 

everyone gets sick so you didn’t blame her. but that would mean that you had to do things on your own, no one to guide you, so you were lost constantly. this also meant that you were screamed at a lot. 

they called you names, saying that you are useless, slow, lazy, and that you are just a pretty face but you didn’t have the brains to work professionally. sure, that hurt. but at the end of the day, this was what you wanted, so you continued, you pushed through all the mean words. 

you went home with a heavy heart. you were exhausted, mentally drained as well. you facetimed clay on your way home, when you were driving to tell him everything. you just needed to let it out. 

he told you to go home and relax, that you would be all good tomorrow. 

at first, you believed him, but then you felt like you weren’t feeling any better, so you decided to stream. 

“i just showered, please ignore my wet hair.” you told chat as you started your stream. 

as the hour passes, you started to feel better. clay watched your stream, donating you at times to ask you questions. 

your phone goes off, signaling someone calling you. you picked up, knowing it was clay anyways since no one else would call you at 10pm. 

“discord.” he told you and hung up. 

“wow, not even a hi. what a friend.” you told your chat while you got in discord. 

you silently went in, not greeting anyone. you had a feeling that it isn’t just clay in the call. 

“there she is.” sapnap called you out. you said hi to all of them, even george, who you knew was in the call too. he only grumbled a reply to you. 

you guessed that george streaming since sometimes he would talk to himself, not muted. sapnap told you to join the smp and play with them, to which you agreed since the night was still young anyways. 

you spawned at sapnap’s house somehow, but walked across the smp towards where the rest of them were. you heard george say something as your character walked closer to them, you were still in the discord call, anyways. 

“dream, why did she need to be here?” you heard him say.

“maybe cause i’m his best friend?” you replied, innocently. you didn’t realize that you saying this would cause a huge problem, or could potentially lead to a fight between the boys and you. 

“i’m his best friend, you butt off.” he says, somewhat using an angry tone. 

“wait, i didn’t mean to-” you tried to say but was cut off by george. 

“you’re literally so fucking annoying. i don’t understand how clay can stand you.” he almost shouted. 

you could feel the tears coming, but you tried your best to keep it in, not wanting to cry on stream, especially with your facecam on. 

“george, language.” bad told him off, trying to ease the tension. 

“no, no. i’m not going to just sit and keep quiet anymore. i don’t like her here.” george starts another sentence.

“i’ll go.” you tried to say, voice small.

“georg-” clay tries to stop him before it goes too far. 

“chat says she’s about to cry? well go cry to your mum, don’t waste your time here on the smp.” he scolds. 

fuck. that one really hurt. “george what the fuck.” you heard clay say before you silently left the smp and discord chat.

you still had your stream. you didn’t want to disappoint so you still kept your stream going, trying not to cry. 

you connected your ipad to your laptop so they could see what you were up to. you decided to draw since you didn’t feel like going on your own world in minecraft. 

“chat, i drew this of sapnap the other day cause i was bored.” you showed them, zooming in the drawing on your ipad. 

your intention was to only show chat your drawing of sapnap but you didn’t realize that you accidentally clicked off that drawing, and showed a different drawing on stream.

“oops, you weren’t suppose to see that, chat.” you told them as you clicked back from the drawing you accidentally showed them. specifically, you had shown them a drawing of george that you made. 

“calm down, chat. i draw everyone.” you tried to ease the comments that arrived to your stream. 

“i even drew dream but that’s in my private section cause you guys haven’t seen his face yet.” you told them. 

the comments were positive. some of them were telling you to post it on twitter, that the boys would appreciate it. “oh my god, chat. fine i will, i’ll post them right now.” 

you went on twitter and posted every single drawing of them, even clay’s but you picked the ones that you had drawn a mask on him. you captioned it “chat told me to do it and i couldn’t disappoint them.” 

slowly you saw that your positive chat started to turn very negative. the name calling, the degrading. people were calling you attention seeking, that you are nothing but a whore for drawing them all. 

“okay guys, i should go to bed, i have things to do in the morning.” you told them, saying goodbye, leaving the stream and turning your pc off. 

you had your twitter notifications off so that you wouldn’t be annoyed at the constant pinging but since you were already on twitter, you had known that most of the people you drew had already noticed it. they retweeted it, screenshotted it, asking for your permission to post it or use it in their profile. 

you replied to most of them, before turning your phone off to get ready for bed. 

you sat on your bed, staring at your wall opposite you. you could feel the exhaustion come over you, the tears streaming down your face. it had been a good couple of hours. 

streaming definitely did take your mind off a lot of the things from your job earlier. but somehow you felt like your day got worse. 

you didn’t blame george, nor anyone for the matter. you needed to just suck it up, that not everyone will like you and that it’s okay for someone to call you out like that. 

that didn’t mean what he said didn’t hurt. in fact, nothing hurt you more than this. the fact he reminded you about your mum. you wished you could cry to your mum. everyday. you just wanted to hug her, talk to her. you wanted nothing else than to have a couple more moments with your parents. 

you needed to be tough, as your dad told you to be. you won’t be torn down because of this. your phone rang. you already know it’s clay facetiming you. you dried your tears and quickly went to wash your face.  

“hi.” you started, smiling to him as you picked the call up. 

“you don’t have to act like you’re okay. you’re allowed to cry.” he reminds you. 

“i am okay, don’t worry.” you told him. 

“you aren’t” he starts. “he went too far, i’m sorry.” he says. 

“don’t apologize. neither of your faults. i am tired though, i’m going to bed and so should you.” you replied to him, reminding him not to remain awake for too long.

“sleep well, hopefully tomorrow won’t suck for you. i’ll sleep later. goodnight. i love you.” 

“i love you too.” you told him before you ended the call. 

you laid down on your bed, continued crying and praying that tomorrow would be better. with that, you cocooned yourself in your covers and went to bed. 

-

DREAM’S POV

“what the actual fuck, george.” i scolded the british boy as you left the smp and discord call. 

“turn off your streams, all of you.” i told them. 

i had your live put up on my other monitor, so i knew exactly what was going on and what she was doing. so far, her chat had nothing but nice things to say and now she’s showing her drawings to them. 

good. she’s good so far. she’s probably only trying to take her mind off things. 

as all the boys turned off their streams, i told them to wait before i continues saying anything. we were all still on minecraft, doing our own things. i couldn’t just sit and do nothing, i would end up being too mad and breaking things. 

“i am so fucking disappointed in you, george.” i started to say. i was truly disappointed. i knew the two of them somehow didn’t get along well but i didn’t understand why he’s such an ass about this. 

“i find her so fucking pretentious. i refuse to sit here and not say anything about it.” george told all of us. i wish i could shake him awake right now. 

“she has been nothing but nice to you, what is wrong with you?” my voice louder now. 

“clay, i fucking hate her. she’s acting nice in front of everyone. you, chat. i don’t like that.” 

“acting nice? she’s the nicest person i’ve met.” i scolded him, bad and sapnap agreeing with me. 

“then you clearly haven’t met many nice people, clay.” he told me, scoffing. 

at this, i got more angry. i didn’t want to hold back. i couldn’t anymore. although i knew she’d get mad at me for telling people this, i didn’t care. i had to tell them, tell george. he will not just step on my best friend and get away with it, not when i’m around. 

“you dickhead. you told her to cry to her mum. her mum isn’t there to be there for her, to console her, to calm her down when your bitch-ass decide to talk crap about her. her dad isn’t there to hug her, to tell her that boys like you don’t deserve her. you really fucked up this time, george. i can’t believe you.” i basically screamed at him. 

“what?” i head sapnap say. “you don’t say-” he tried to say again. 

“her parents passed away when she was eighteen. she had no one but me. even her relatives don’t give a shit about her anymore.” i told them. that felt good to say. sure, it is a private matter about you and i should respect her boundaries but i can’t listen to george talk shit about you like that and not do anything. 

“i hope you’re happy, george. you probably fucking broke her.” i told him before leaving the smp and discord call. 

before i left, i heard him. “fuck.” i knew bad and sapnap would torment him anyways. 

i called you right after that. you looked fresh and looked like you haven’t been crying but i knew better. i knew you went to the bathroom before picking up my phone call. i knew you too well. 

when she hung up on me, i went to check out her twitter. i saw my twitter notifications earlier and saw that she posted something. i knew it had to be one of the drawings. chat must’ve told her to post it. 

my heart sunk when i saw a drawing of george. you are too nice for this world. no one on this earth deserves you, not even me. the fact that you still posted him when he was the cause of your tears prior to this. 

and the fact that he has been mean to you since the start yet you still spent hours drawing him just melts me. george really needs to wake up. 

i saved the drawing you drew of me and had it up as my profile picture. it was too wholesome. you really are talented. not to mention, really smart too. you were incredibly forgiving, it wouldn’t shock me to hear that you’re not even mad at george for being so rude to you. 

-

YOUR POV

i heard a knock on my door as i was finishing reading a book. i went to the front door not really expecting it to be anyone. maybe it’s clay, since he comes to your house often and never told you earlier. not that you mind, anyways. 

you were shocked, to say the least, to see a slightly shorter than clay, boy standing in front of you. that isn’t the shocking part. it is the fact that you are well aware of the man standing in front of you. 

george. and for some reason, he was holding flowers.

when you opened the door, he smiled sheepishly at you. you just stared at him, waiting for him to say something before you decide to. 

nothing. he says nothing. “is this about the things you called me? i totally get why you said what you did and i don’t blame you.” you said first, since it didn’t seem like he would. 

“how am i not one to blame when i was so incredibly rude to you, not even getting to know you first.” he finally opens up. 

“did clay ask you to come?” you asked him. he shook his head. 

“i offered, actually.” he started. 

“i couldn’t just sit around and not try to apologize. i’m so sorry for turning a blind eye and calling you such things. i didn’t mean any of it.” he says.

before you try to say something, he cuts you off. “and i know you’re going to stand there and tell me i did nothing wrong, that i have nothing to apologize about but that’s not true.” he says. 

you smiled. were you that predictable. you knew he had a couple more things to say, hence you kept your mouth shut and told him to continue, and that you wouldn’t cut in this time. 

besides, him apologizing with bouquet of flowers in his hands is just too adorable for you. so you decide that you should enjoy this. 

“clay told me how much of an idiot i am for talking about your mum. i didn’t mean anything i said, i swear.” he starts again. 

“i just- it seems like you and clay are so close and it made me feel so alone, like i barely stood a chance with you in the first place. and that thought alone made me feel enraged. i know that doesn’t count as an excuse, nothing can count as an excuse bu-” you cut him off by pulling him by behind his neck to kiss him. 

the kiss was short, but sweet. it was for two reasons, one, to shut him up, for him to stop rambling, and two, for him to realize that you liked him just as much. 

as you pulled away from the short kiss, he was already looking at you with a glint in his eyes, as if he was looking at the last piece of donut in a coffee shop.

he showed you a grin, a grin like none other. it showed you how much he did actually like you. 

it’s safe to say he only spent the rest of his stay at your house, or in your company. even clay couldn’t steal him from you. 

[ardett]

all dead hearts to you

Description: George and Dream have never met in person. It isn’t a problem until Dream calls George to tell him he’s going to kill himself.

check this out on Ao3 if you wanna be cool!

Author’s Note: Not me crashing recklessly into another fandom (also this is assuming sapnap went home to Texas after living with dream idk let me live)

title from Dead Hearts by Stars

also I'm new here, anyone wanna give me a welcome to the boys?

warnings: suicide warning (obviously) but no actual suicide, general anxiety and panic attacks

It’s 3am when George gets Dream’s call. 

Late, but only really for him. It’s still before midnight in Florida, right around 10pm. He’d like to say that he’s so practiced with converting time zones that he doesn’t even have to think about it but he still has to count backwards on his fingers, thinking on the jump between late late nights and early mornings.

He’s still awake but the leds in his room have been turned to red, set to the dimmest mode. He was streaming with Quackity up until about half an hour ago and his room has settled back into quiet again.

He feels the thrum of anxiety as he hears the ringtone. Dream usually only calls him when George is about to sleep through something important or if he’s on the road. George wonders if he forgot something today or maybe he let something slip on his call with Quackity.

Now that it’s on his mind, he realizes that he hasn’t heard from Dream all day. Or yesterday?

They’ve both been busy, though George has been busy with the usual things and Dream said something about needing to put his affairs in order or whatever that meant. They usually text at least but even that has been quieter.

George grabs his phone off his desk and picks up the call.

“Dream. What’s up?” he asks. George runs a quick hand through his hair, checking his screen quickly. It’s a real phone call, not even a discord call. “Hey, I’m putting you on speaker. I’m gonna put on my pajamas.”

He’s about to set the phone on his dresser when Dream says, “Oh, I probably shouldn’t be on speaker.”

There’s something off in his tone. Something flat. It sets George’s nerves on edge. 

“Yeah? Okay.” George tucks the phone back by his ear, slumping back on his bed. “Did you have something you had to tell me?”

“Yeah. George, I’m going to kill myself.”

Everything in George stills.

And then starts to spin.

“What?”

“I’m going to—”

“You’re not serious.” George jerks upright, ignoring the lightheaded feeling sinking its fingers into his skull. “Dream, this isn’t funny.”

“I don’t think it is. It’s just going to happen.” 

There’s not even a tremor in Dream’s voice. George can’t feel anything past the bone deep shock in his system.

All he can think of is Dream, wrists bloody and split open. Dream, fingertips dusted white with the residue of unnamed pills. Dream, rope burns fracturing the long line of his neck. 

Dream, dead.

How is he even going to do it? Is he actually going to do it? George wants to ask but then he realizes he doesn’t want to know.

He imagines the first time he sees Dream in person is when he attends his funeral.

He imagines all the words he’s held in for so long, waiting and waiting for the moment he could say them to Dream face to face, finally being said to dead air.

But George can’t say that so all he manages is an obstinate, “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Stop disagreeing with me.”

“George,” Dream laughs. Laughs.

George feels dizzy with the disbelief swirling inside him. Surely this can’t be happening. What reason would Dream have to make this up though? Dream would never joke about something like this. Why is he laughing? 

How can Dream be so casual when George’s world is shattering? 

He doesn’t know what a future without Dream looks like.

They’ve always lived miles apart but Dream has never felt so far away. George has never felt like this. Like he couldn’t reach him.

“Dream.” Dream’s laugh cuts off as soon as he hears the plea in George’s voice. “Is something wrong? Are you— I can come there. I can be with you tomorrow. Sapnap can stay with you again. You don’t have to do this—”

“I know. But I want to. So I’m going to.” Any trace of mirth is gone. Dream sounds the same way he did when he decided he was going to break a world record or make YouTube work for him.

Determined. Steadfast. His voice has the steely confidence of knowing he won’t fail.

Usually it’s inspiring but now the familiarity of it just makes George sick. He’s never known Dream to be someone content with failure.

George's phone digs into his palm as his grip spasms. He tastes blood.

And he doesn’t even know why yet.

“What happened? Whatever it is, we can fix it.”

Dream sighs. “Nothing’s wrong, George.”

“There has to be something wrong. You can tell me,” George insists. Then he changes tactics and lies through his teeth. “I swear I won’t tell anyone else. We can work this out together, just the two of us. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I already told you nothing’s wrong,” Dream repeats.

“Then why would you… do that?” George trips over the word, rephrases it instead.

And then Dream rips that tiny defense to shreds.

“You can say it you know,” Dream says. “I’m going to kill myself. You should probably get used to it actually. People are going to ask you about it. I’m sorry about that,” he adds as an afterthought. 

The harsh, blunt words sting against George’s skin.

“Don’t apologize,” he strangles out. “Don’t apologize for that out of everything. Just don’t do it.”

“George,” Dream breathes, exasperated.

“I just don’t understand,” George begs. For the first time, his voice wavers.

Dream, cold gun in his cold hands. Dream, long limbs hanging over the railing of a bridge as he stares down. Dream, slumped over his table with a bottle of vodka nestled near his feet. 

Dream, dead.

Dead.

Dead.

“Don’t cry, okay?” Dream’s voice softens. George forgot how gentle Dream could be with him when he wanted. 

“I didn’t want to make you cry. Look, it’s just…” Dream trails off. Eventually, he continues even quieter. “This is it, you know? This is the top, this is the peak. It can’t go on like this forever, crazy numbers on videos and trending on twitter and all that shit. I’d rather go out like this than wait to hit the bottom. Doesn’t that make sense?” Dream persuades.

“No,” George insists, all the air leaving his lungs at once.

“Come on, George. Can you even picture yourself growing old? What happens when we’re 30, 40, and all of this is gone. Do you want that?”

The sick part of it all is that George has imagined the future. He imagines it lovingly, not viciously. Not like this.

He imagined a future with Sapnap and Bad and Karl and Quackity but most of all with Dream. He wants so badly to be with him. Sapnap talked about living together, how great parts of it had been, how he would have stayed if he hadn’t had to return home for family, and George so selfishly wants that for himself.

And he’s always known that’s not what Dream pictured. Dream doesn’t want what he wants. Dream doesn’t want to grow old with someone, much less George.

Can you even picture yourself growing old?

It hurts because George can and he always wanted it to be with Dream.

“What are you even saying? Do you want me to kill myself too?” George bites. He scrubs viciously at his eyes and stabs at the power button of his computer, teeth piercing into his lip as he waits for it to turn on.

“No, no, of course not. I would never— Come on, that’s obviously not what I’m saying.”

George fumbles with his keyboard, pulling up his discord messages with Sapnap.

He just needs someone else to help him, someone else to know. Someone who can do what he can’t. Someone who isn’t as fucking helpless as him, who doesn’t live an ocean away and who has never seen Dream in person and has never touched Dream, not once, has never known what the sun feels like in Florida.

Of course he was lying when he said this was going to stay between the two of them.

This isn’t the kind of thing he can do alone.

 George: Sapnap dream says hes going 

George: to kill himself

George: you have to get someone to him

George: call 999 

George: 911

 Sapnap: what

 George: please now sap Im on the phone with him

 Sapnap: are you joking

 George: no

George: do it

George: please fast now

 “Are you typing?” Dream questions, a note of warning in his tone.

George jerks. “No, I—”

He’s cut off by a beeping from his phone. 

His heart stops.

“What’s that sound?” Dream asks.

Sapnap is calling him.

George can picture him, knee jumping as he clutches his phone, hoping against hope that George is joking. He can practically hear the adrenaline trembling in Sapnap’s voice, can see the way Sapnap stands and paces.

He can’t answer though. He can’t leave Dream.

George declines the call, hand shaking.

“Who was that?” The question is flat.

“No one,” George says too quickly.

“No one?” Dream repeats. Only a second or two passes before George hears the same beep through his phone speaker, this time coming from Dream’s end. “Wow look who’s calling me. Sapnap. Wonder if he changed his name to No One,” Dream says without emotion.

 Sapnap: fck are you serious

 George bites his tongue, wincing.

“Dream—”

 George: y

 George can’t manage to type anything more before Dream snarls, “You’re such a fucking snitch, you know that? It’s fine though, I thought this might happen. I was gonna call him after you, for the record.” It almost sounds like Dream is smiling. George’s heart twists. Why is he smiling? “I know you have to try as a friend to save me, or whatever you want to call it, but you really don’t have to. I want to do this. I’m going to.

“It’s not like you could really stop me anyway,” Dream continues. “You don’t even know where I live. You barely know what I look like. What, are you going to ask the police to search the entire state of Florida?”

“Sapnap knows,” George whispers. 

He tries to shake off the savagery seeping into Dream’s voice. He tells himself Dream is defensive, Dream is nervous, Dream is scared. Dream isn’t thinking about what he’s really saying.

Though things have never mattered before, the fact George has never been to Florida, that George has never seen Dream in person. But now Dream is weaponizing them against him, forcing George to acknowledge that for everything their relationship is, it can never replace an in person friendship. And Dream has always been a better fighter than George.

“No, he doesn’t. Me and Sap rented a house, remember? We never went to my house. I never sent him my actual address, I checked.” And Dream sounds so smug. Like he won.

George’s gaze darts back to his computer. 

But he already knows Dream isn’t a liar.

 Sapnap: I dont know his address

Sapnap: fuck

Sapnap: Im calling bad

Sapnap: dont let him hang up

 “People are so dumb about it, you know? They tell all their friends and then they get caught before actually doing it,” Dream goes on, not paying attention to George’s disconsolate silence.

“But you’re telling me,” George mutters. Hopelessness strings through him.

Sapnap isn’t writing anything else. George can only hope Bad picked up.

“Yeah but you’re literally in another country. What are you going to do about it?” 

George can’t manage any words. He doesn’t even know if he remembers how to breathe. 

Dream is right, he always seems to be right. George just wishes it wasn’t about this. Anything but this. He has to believe that Sapnap and Bad will figure something out. He has to trust them.

“Just think about how many people are found before they actually do it,” Dream goes on in George’s quiet. “Because they can’t commit. Most people are cowards. It’s dumb honestly. Just do it or don’t.”

“Don’t then,” George whispers.

His eyes burn with unshed tears. His fingers spasm on his bedsheets.

He doesn’t know what Dream wants. Does he want George to beg? To get on his knees and plead with him to save his own life? Because he would in a heartbeat but he doubts it would make a difference. 

Dream sighs. “I feel like you’re not listening to me, George.”

“No, I am.” George’s voice rises with his wrath. Suddenly all his terror and frustration comes to a bursting point. “I’m listening. I’m listening to you talk about killing yourself. I just think you’re wrong. I think it would be a lot fucking braver to stay alive even if your views go down, even if you’re not fucking famous, Dream. What the fuck? You’re a fucking coward for trying to leave!” George’s breaths heave through the staticy phone microphone. His fear and anger wind him.

There’s a moment of emptiness.

Then, lip curling, Dream says, “Trying to leave you?”

George chokes.

“What?”

“Don’t try and pull this card, George. That’s what you’re trying to say, isn’t it? I’m a coward for leaving everyone behind? For leaving you?” 

Dream’s voice drowns out George’s. George flinches, though Dream can’t see it. 

“Don’t be so fucking selfish. I hate that, you know that?” Dream growls. “Everyone thinks they’re enough to save someone all by themselves. Wow, the sheer force of your love just fucking yanked me back from the edge of a cliff, give me a fucking break,” Dream scoffs. George’s ribs feel tight. “You can’t just reverse psychology or guilt me out of this.”

“Jesus, Dream, is it so hard to believe that maybe I care about you and I don’t want you to fucking die?” George grits out. 

The room swims before him. He can’t remember how to uncurl his fingers.

“Well it’s not up to you, is it?” Dream practically smirks.

And that’s it, isn’t it? The winning phrase. Because Dream’s right. 

It’s not up to George. 

George can only listen helplessly as Dream considers his own grave. He’s a constant witness to the storm that is Dream. He was always grateful to be dragged along in Dream’s hurricane winds and now he dreads the day they calm.

“You’re being cruel,” George murmurs. His aggression leaves him as soon as it came.

“I’m being honest,” Dream contends.

George sinks his head into his hands. “Why did you even call me then? To— to gloat?”

Dream’s voice goes low and quiet, vulnerable. George’s insides twist and melt and contort. “No, no, I just… I don’t know. I just wanted to talk to you one more time.”

“Don’t say that,” George hisses. The words are half muffled into his palms.

“Don’t say what?” Dream asks defensively.

“Don’t say one more time. You can’t— you can’t—'' It all hits George at once. He’s going to lose him.

He’s going to lose Dream.

Before he knows it, he’s sobbing into the phone, loud ugly heaving sobs. “Don’t do it, Dream. I’m serious. Please— Just wait for one of us to get there. We can be with you. We can help.”

Dream’s voice hardens again. “You mean you can stop me.”

“Dream—” George starts to beg, trying to figure out how to lie without Dream catching him.

But Dream beats him to it. 

“I’m gonna hang up now—”

Panic rips through George. The shock of it physically hurts in his veins, in his heart.

“No!” he almost screams. “Dream, Dream, don’t hang up—”

“Oh my god, relax. I’m calling Sapnap. I’m not doing anything yet.” He can almost hear Dream rolling his eyes. It’s not comforting.

George sniffles. He knows it sounds pathetic. He’s not one for pity but if it gets Dream to keep talking with him, he’s willing to stoop to any low. He just doesn’t know if he can believe Dream.

“Can’t you just… stay on the phone with me?” 

“What, forever? Is that your plan? Just keep me on the line until someone inevitably finds me somehow?” Dream mocks.

Yes.

“No,” George says instead because he thinks it’s what Dream wants to hear.

Dream switches tactics. George recognizes the persuasion in his tone. 

“Don’t you want me to call Sapnap? Shouldn’t he also get the chance to talk with me?” Dream questions.

Guilts rests against George’s ribs. 

Of course he wants Sapnap to get the chance to talk to Dream. What if this is their last chance to talk? But George is too selfish to think about it much.

“That’s not what you’re asking me. Don’t try and pull that shit. You’re asking me to hang up. You’re asking for me to say goodbye and I’m…” George’s voice drops, almost inaudible. “I’m not ready.”

“George…” Dream’s voice trails off. His next words are nearly silent, something bitter and mournful about them. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” George mumbles.

“Are you gonna say it back to me?” Dream demands. George doesn’t know what holds him back now but something does.

“You know I do, Dream, why—”

The dial tone rings in George’s ears.

Dream hung up.

-

Not even 30 seconds pass, not nearly enough for the abrupt end of their call to sink in, when George’s phone is ringing again. He fumbles with his screen but manages to pick up.

“George?”

George’s heart sinks. It’s not the voice he wants to hear. That he needs to hear.

“Bad?”

“Yeah,” Bad affirms. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? Am I—” George scoffs and it feels like it rips his throat. He feels like he wants to scream. Like he wants to punch a wall. Like he would give anything to be somewhere warmer right now. “No, I’m obviously not okay, Bad. He’s going to— to—”

“I know. Sapnap told me.” 

Bad’s voice is collected, even. It just makes George more frustrated. How can everyone be so fucking calm about this? 

“George, just try to take some deep breaths, okay?” George ignores the suggestion. “Sapnap is on the phone with Dream. He just hung up on me to talk to him. I’m driving there right now, okay?”

George pauses. Something cold washes over him. He doesn’t know yet if it’s relief.

“You’re— you’re driving to Dream?”

“Yes,” Bad affirms. “We just have to keep him talking to someone for the next hour—”

“Hour? Are you serious? That’s too long!” George knows he’s screaming now. He doesn’t care.

“George—”

“We have to call an ambulance, the police. There has to be someone we can call.” 

George squeezes his eyes shut, trying to think of other ways they could possibly get there in time. He comes up blank. He can’t accept it. He can’t.

Dream, alone. Dream, bereft. Dream, dead.

“I know but I can’t— I was trying to tell you.” Bad’s words are muffled. It sounds like he’s biting the inside of his cheek. He confesses, “I don’t know his exact address. Sapnap is going to try and get it while he talks to him. I’m driving to Orlando and hopefully Sap knows it by the time I get there but we’re just—”

“No, no, no—”

George thinks of Bad arriving just in time to find Dream’s body still warm. He’s going to be sick. His chest hurts. His lungs burn.

“Try and take some deep breaths—” Bad placates as George speaks over him.

“I’m never going to talk to him again. He’s going to kill himself.” George is spiraling. He can’t stop himself.

“George, I’m going to get there in time.” But Bad doesn’t sound sure of himself. George zeros in on the weakness.

“You don’t know that,” George hisses.

“This is hard for all of us, George!” George startles at Bad’s yell. He’s heard Bad raise his voice before but never at him, never seriously. “I’m sorry,” Bad apologizes, words quieting again. George hears a sniffle through the phone. 

Bad’s crying. 

God, George is a terrible person. He didn’t even think to check in on Bad. Bad’s the one who might find Dream halfway there or already committed. He’s the only one who’s even close to being able to do something and maybe that’s the worst position to be in.

To be so close and lose a friend anyway.

“You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… I know it’s hard for all of us. I know you’re doing everything you can. You’re doing more than me.” George tries to laugh but it gets stuck in his throat. It’s not funny anyway.

“It’s going to be okay,” but it doesn’t even sound like Bad believes himself.

“I don’t think I can talk about this anymore,” George murmurs. He feels exhausted. There’s so much adrenaline coursing through him that it hurts. “Can we just talk about something else just… just for a little?” he begs. Like anything could distract him from this.

“Yeah George.” George can hear the sympathy in Bad’s voice. He’s too far gone for the pity to bother him. “Let me— Let me tell you about what I did this weekend on the SMP.”

George sucks in a sharp inhale. “Not— not the SMP. Can you talk about something else?” 

“Of course,” Bad agrees easily. “So last Friday I went to visit my family…”

George lets Bad talk in the background. Every once in a while, one of them will sniffle or sob or take a breath that’s too shaky to be normal. Neither of them mentions it.

George listens to people walk past his window, their voices carrying up into the stars.

The noises of the highway drone on through his phone.

Bad drives.

-

George thinks about what it would be like to go on without Dream.

He’ll never be the same, he already knows. It will haunt him for years. For the rest of his life. The thought of being so close to someone and then losing them.

Death is natural. He knows that. But it’s the intentionality of it that aches the most. The idea that Dream would leave behind everything for something so painful and unknown.

And George just knows… part of him will die with Dream and never come back. 

George doesn’t know who he’ll be with that part missing.

part 1/3, though the next update won’t really be an update but it will be soon

[delicrieux]

the phases of a firework

pairing: fred weasley x f!reader

fandom: harry potter

summary: fred weasley experiences the lana del rey-esque american dream 

d’s note: not written by me, but rather by a lovely nonnie! it’s a honor to post it xoxo leave some love in the comments! 

-------

I. Lifting Charge

Mother says they’re going to Florida for the summer. Florida means mosquitos, and sunburns, and salty skin and hair and breath because yes, Florida is a fucking cesspool, but for some reason, he doesn’t find himself thinking of any of that and is actually, really when you think about it, kind of calm. Everyone in the household finds this alarming. -“You’re not upset?” -“No.” -“Disappointed?” -“Not really.” -“Dad’s got a cousin in the Keys, that’s why we’re going.” -“Sounds like it’ll be nice.” -“We went to Egypt, you know, like, saw the pyramids and everything.” -“We can make sand pyramids.” But Florida doesn’t have sand. It doesn’t have beaches, either, at least not the part they could afford, because Molly and Arthur Weasley had scraped together everything to get that trip, because the kids didn’t need to know that it was possibly the last time they could leave the Burrow for a summer, because things weren’t safe at home and maybe a temporary home could suffice for a while. They didn’t need to think about the fact that people would die, statistically speaking, people they probably knew, and the kids didn’t need to worry or ask questions or complain, and they didn’t, because all they could afford was a trailer, enchanted, yes, but not exactly a condo, but you know what, no one really paid it any mind. Everyone was quiet, actually, and Molly and Arthur Weasley gripped their trunks and asked themselves how they thought they could hide a war under a swimming suit.

II. Time Delay Fuse

It’s not that it’s hot out, it’s just that balding grass patches and What Type of Blue Even is That sky doesn’t attract many, or really anyone at all. Ginny is on her side of the bunker, writing letters to friends, or maybe no one, just herself. Ron has been napping since they hopped off the portkey, Percy didn’t bother to come, and the parents are off doing parent-y things. George is who’s left, and that’s never a problem, but he’s worried about sunburns, and Fred assures him mate, we’ve got sunblock but it isn’t enough, and that’s why he’s sitting by himself in a lawn chair, Wayfarers resting on a sweating nose, and Johnny Thunder’s playing in a distant trailer and world. It’s oddly therapeutic, the bottom of the classes. There’s no worries, no cares, it’s like retirement but better because there’s no one they know anywhere around, and everything is finally kind of calm. He finds that alarming. -“You like fireworks?” It’s a nasal, chirpy sort of a voice she has. Like an alarm. An alarm goes off in him, not anything bad, just the inner male siren that blares and rings and screams Girl! Girl! Girl! He smiles to himself, thinking about the gargling sort of noise that would make when spoken aloud. George would’ve found it funny. -“Hello?” -“Sorry?” -“Fireworks. You good with them?” He doesn’t know why he’s nodding, maybe it’s because her hair shines that weird, oil gas spilled on a pavement colour, or maybe it’s because she’s standing there, expecting him to go, and who is he to disappoint, and he finds himself leaving the security of the lawn chair and following her up and into the empty part of the balding grass field. It takes half a day and three bottles of what the fuck is this anyway and they’ve managed to set up the perfect show. It’s the fourth of July, American Independence Day, yet it feels like everyone in the park is shackled.

III. Bursting Charge

He’s proud, drunk, and finding himself patriotic for a country he’s spent barely seven hours in. He’s had too much of Swamp Juice, that’s what she calls it, the mixture of Fanta and Bourbon, and the bottom of his stomach is twinkling and tingling, like there are mini little bombs going off in his gut. She says it’s a normal feeling, but he’s not too sure about that. He’s had liquor, of course he has, and one could consider him a sommelier, of sorts, in the way teenagers often pride themselves on knowledge of Grown Up Things. One of his favourite memories are when he and George broke into the liquor cabinet and stayed up till six in the morning downing bottle after bottle of gigglewater. Their stomach hurt, cramped, and their eyes were dried, but it was a night he’d cherish to the grave. But that wasn’t the same feeling. That was what it meant to be drunk and happy, happy that you’re drunk and drunk enough to be happy, but this, the sinking yet soaring and bubbling and fizzling sort of brew in his gut wasn’t that at all, and he’d heard Charlie mention a year back about some guy he’d met that bred some creature he couldn’t remember the name of at the moment. Charlie’d said it was indistinguishable, a feeling you get once or twice. Fred didn’t believe in soulmates, and he didn’t know if he really believed in being in love. It was a dangerous thought to have in a time as dangerous as these, but it wasn’t as if he cared all that much about the danger of things. -“You gonna dance?” She had her hand stretched out to his, hip cocked and lip quirked, and maybe it was the way the fireworks danced behind her shoulders. She was metallic nail polish and Disney World flip flops, two dollar tube tops and stolen hair ties, but she was smiling at him through a Cherry Coca Cola flavoured lip gloss grin, and who is he to disappoint, so he’s standing, swaying, dancing along to the sound of cracking and popping and booms, and he may have snuck in an enchanted firework or two, and the crowd is cheering and smiling and just nearly crying, and so is he when she leans in for a kiss. They’re proud, drunk, and Fred decides that Cherry Coca Cola is the greatest drink in the world.

IV. Stars

The summer stays hot, in every way possible. They spend afternoons melting ice cubes on each others backs and smoking cheap hash on the roof of her mobile home. He learns her parents are dead. She learns his aren’t. He doesn’t invite her to meet the family, but she, in a way, invites herself, and Molly and Arthur are absolutely ashamed when they find out that Fred didn’t immediately bring over the poor girl, look at her, she’s far too skinny. Ginny, dear, put on a kettle and a warm meal, she’s positively gaunt! She finds it amusing. She has dinner that night in the Weasley vacation trailer, and every night after it, too. Fred doesn’t mind. Some nights, he sneaks to her place and they read travel maps, planning future road trips to Nevada and eating Quaker Oats by the handful. She looks at the stars, he looks at her, it’s all very cliche, including her admiration for his super cool accent. He finds it amusing. -“So, what’s gonna happen when summer ends?” -“Whatya mean?” She huffs her smoke, a sign he’s familiar with. She’s frustrated but calm. Patient, but not for long. -“I mean, what’s gonna happen to you? To us? You’ve got school, yeah, but after, I mean, like, I don’t wanna jump to conclusions or anything but-” -“I like you.” -“I like you, too.” -“And I like hanging out with you.” The light in her joint goes out, and it matches the light in her eyes. -“So that’s it then.” - “I’ve just, I mean, there’s a lot going on back at home and, really, I don’t wanna drag you into it.” -“Yeah.” -“There’s a lot, really, there is, and I just wouldn’t want to-” -“No, yeah, it’s fine. I get it.” It takes him a few days, and a few talks with George, but it’s three in the morning and he’s had some liquid luck and he’s knocking on her door in Tommy Bahama shorts and a Life is Good shirt and he’s pretty sure he should’ve put deodorant on and spent more than two-fifty on the gesture but- -“It’s three in the fucking morning, Freddie. Either I’m about to die or you’re about to die, and neither option is really good, so what the fuck-” -“Marry me.” She stops talking, and breathing, and she’s about to laugh until he holds up a plastic little Made in China ring he got at one of those machines in the front of the supermarket, and it probably doesn’t even fit her, but all she can really think is thank God it’s not a damn Ring Pop. -“Are you fucking kidding me, red?” -“I don’t mean today, or tomorrow, or anytime soon. I mean that when that thing going on is over, and when I’m out of school and ready to live life, I wanna live it with you. We could get a bigger trailer, or maybe an RV, and we could ride around America and, and collect special fireworks from around the world. We could have a kid or two, and they could live with us, or maybe we’d just start out with a dog, I don’t know, all I know is I wanna live my life like it’s a never-ending summer with you.” She’s not sure now if she’s laughing or tearing up, either is pathetic, but she crosses her arms over her Betty Boop pajama top and decides to find this adolescent adoration somehow sweet. - “What colour RV are you thinking?” - “Red.”

V. Ash

It’s in the form of a letter, and in a way, that’s better than a call, because then they couldn’t hear her sobbing on the other end. She doesn’t really know why she’s crying. They hadn’t spoken in years. They were sixteen and stupid, as all sixteen year olds are, but the worst part is believing in that sixteen year old dream and thinking the flame was still lit. She couldn’t blame it on her age anymore. She was just stupid. She stares at the paper, passed away, as if that was a better way of phrasing it instead of just saying dead. She can’t be too horribly upset. As far as she was concerned, he’d been dead for four years. Four years. Fuck. He was four, already. -“Where are we headed?” -“I dunno. Nevada?” -“Cool.” He’s got his hand stuffed in a Quaker Oats box, and she finds hers traveling to the two-fifty Made in China ring she keeps on her neck. She’ll tell Molly and Arthur someday soon, maybe once they hit Oregon, she’s not ready for England winters, because right now, life is red. Red with pain and anger, yeah, but also with love, and with red hair, and red lips, and red Cola, and red American fireworks, and red rings, and flip flops, and RVs, and yes, life fucking sucks and war fucking sucks and everything nowadays should be really very alarming, but when she sits back in the driver seat, travel maps sprawled and a four year old in a faded Life is Good shirt sitting in the passenger seat, she finds that life is actually, really when you think about it, kind of calm.

[abbydraper]

Who Gets a Seat in Peter’s Cockpit?

The bios for this seasons’ Bachelor contestants went live today and I just can’t help myself. My justification for this round is that ABC is finally back to giving me what I want... more than just a “job” title and an age. Yep, this season we are getting the full on, horribly written bios. Which means I have so much more to work with. 

Alayah (unsure of pronunciation) 

After failing 3 times before, Alayah (unsure of pronunciation) was finally crowned Miss Texas this year. And she really likes talking about it. The Bachelor franchise interns that wrote this bio also added a teaser that, “familiar faces” might resurface proving that Alayah (unsure of pronunciation) is batshit, and like, we already had this drama with Caelynn and Hannah last season, so no thank you. She claims her favorite social media platform is Reddit and I hope we learn that she goes deep on Reddit conversations about romantic relationships with wildlife animals, or something.  

 Avonlea (not a real name)

Cattle Rancher by day, runway model by night, Avonlea (not a real name) shares that every time she milks one of her cows, she thanks it for its hard work. That would be like me kissing my laptop any time I finished a press release. Except less strange. She also claims that in her spare time she likes snuggling up by the fire to listen to a good audiobook and I’m interpreting this as an admission that she can’t read.  

Alexa (can you not start fights this season? Get it, that’s an Alexa joke)

Alexa wants us to know that she decided to move to Chicago during a game of heads or tails, and I’m assuming that’s to make us think she’s adventurous and up for anything, but her hometown is Springfield, Ill. and when I Google map the distance between the two cities, it’s a three hour drive. I made the decision to move 3,000 miles away over a mid-day FaceTime with my boss and have never included that in a bio when looking for love. She’s going to require a lot of attention and I’m already annoyed. 

Courtney

Courtney is proud to be a Florida girl, “through and through” which isn’t something anyone should find pride in. She has had a lot of plastic surgery, but is wearing a cross necklace over a mock turtleneck tank top in her Bachelor photo which means she’s boring to talk to, but makes up for it generously in the bedroom. 

Deandra

Why are all of these women from Texas? Was it the last place on the audition city tour? Anyway, Deandra describes herself as an “independent, intelligent” woman, which translates the same way as when a guy describes himself as “funny” on a dating app... no way it’s true. She is a self-proclaimed “famers market aficionado” and that’s not a thing. 

Eunice (also not a name, but could be an allergy medication)

Eunice (also not a name, but could be an allergy medication) really wants to rid herself of the party girl reputation but when asked her favorite country, she responded with “Greece” because she can knock back ouzo like it’s water, so she’ll be the first to chug a bottle of champagne and make a bad joke about Peters cockpit. Kind of like I did in the title of this post. 

Hannah Ann (I really hate when people have two first names)

Hannah Ann (I really hate when people have two first names) looks like she was on a show on the WB called “Teenage Darkness” that was canceled after one season and likely could have been as she still lives at home with her parents. Her “home” (room at her parents) is decorated with artwork that she painted herself. The background on my phone is a picture of me, so I have no room to judge. But I am. 

Jade 

Like 80% of the other contestants, and The Bachelor himself, Jade is a flight attendant. Unlike other flight attendants, Jade claims she is afraid of heights. What a risk taker. She is also a mormon and was divorced at age 22 so there’s a lot to unpack here. No travel pun intended.  

Jasmine

In a single paragraph, we learn that Jasmine wants a guy that can do the impossible (bring her Chick-Fil-A on a Sunday), build her a table, give her babies (but not until they’ve traveled the world together) and doesn’t play video games. Pretty specific list of “musts” from a guy who wears a bandaid on his forehead and gets off to windmills. 

Jenna

I feel like Jenna and Peter are this seasons Ben H. and Lauren B. He’ll fall hard, but wonder if she’s too quiet and reserved and she’ll spend a lot of time telling him she’s super fun while actually being incredibly boring. She has a pet goldfish named George, the most boring name on the planet, and she believes that George, her pet goldfish, gives great advice. That’s all the proof I need to validate my assumptions.

Kiarra

She is a self-proclaimed social butterfly who loves shopping, fashion, style and social media. So she’s here for the Fab, Fit, Fun + Fit Tea Instagram deals. 

Katrina 

Katrina has a hairless cat (her words, not mine) that she does everything with. She claims that she dressed up like her hairless cat for Halloween and I need to see what that looks like. Or maybe I don’t. The cat is named after her favorite Disney princess and at age 28 I don’t think someone should have a favorite Disney princess. Her mom is worried about her biological clock ticking and I think she should be more concerned that Katrina brings her “hairless cat” with her to birthday parties. 

Kelley

Kelley needs a man to take care of her, and her most recent relationship was an “international long distance” lover that paid for her to go to Jordan to see him once or twice a month. So, she had a sugar daddy. She decided to end it because she “couldn’t see herself moving to the Middle East”. Which reads, she found out she was on The Bachelor and had to call it off... for now. She has been to 26 countries, so I’m guessing Mr. Jordan wasn’t her first SD. 

Kelsey

Kelsey is a “professional clothier” in Iowa and that’s not a real thing. She claims she’s had relationship issues in the past but Pilates cured that right up. She says she’s not looking for drama, which means she will cry a lot this season. I hope it doesn’t ruin that spray tan and smokey eye look.  

Kylie 

Kylie is an entertainment sales associate in Santa Monica, which means she probably passes out fliers for nightclubs on the Santa Monica Promenade during the day and is a bottle service girl in Hollywood at night, in hopes that she will be “discovered”. She is looking for that “rom-com kind of love” which translates to auditioning for The Bachelor and then dating in the franchise pool for press when it doesn’t happen with Peter. 

Lauren

The most important part of Lauren’s bio is that she conducts exit interviews with all of her exes to find out what went wrong. Imagine that. Your boyfriend comes over to break up with you and you’re like, “I understand. Are you free Thursday between 1 - 2 so I can document when you became unhappy in this role and why? Want to make sure the next person we hire (I date) doesn’t face the same challenges” and him responding with, “Oh yea, totally. See you at 1:30, Thursday.” I’m pretty sure if I called an ex and asked for a SWOT analysis on our relationship he would say, “Abby, this is exactly the reason things didn’t work out.”  

Lexi

Lexi would rather be buried alive than trapped in a room full of frogs. That’s it. The thought of being buried in the ground, alive and breathing, is more appealing to her than being in a room of small amphibians for a short amount of time. Sounds like a ball of fun.

Madison

Madison really wants you to know that she loves basketball. She would even rather rock a pair of Jordan’s (I think those are basketball shoes) than heels. She also loves Jesus. A lot. And if Peter doesn’t, it will be a technical foul for their love. Sports jokes, am I right? 

Maurissa (not how you spell Marissa)

Maurissa (not how you spell Marissa) broke up with her long-term boyfriend, moved to Atlanta and lost 80 pounds. She will be the one that works out in the morning instead of having a mimosa with the other girls. She says if she hits it off with Peter right away, she plans on going hard, so she’ll be the one to steal him away during every other conversation. She’ll probably make him feel her newfound biceps, too.

Megan

Another flight attendant joins the season. This one has aspirations of visiting Zion which is literally a 5 hour drive from San Francisco, where she lives. Dream big, Megan. I see her making it to hometowns and since her mom is her best friend, she’s going to put Peter through the ringer which will be very difficult for their relationship. Do you think I’ve watched a season or two of this show? Megan also looks like a hybrid of every Bachelorette this franchise has ever had. 

Mykenna

Mykenna is barely out of college and has only been in one relationship, so this will be tough for us all to endure. She is a fashion blogger which isn’t a real job, from Canada, who has a BHAG of starting a charity. For what, we don’t know. Her grandfather proposed to her grandmother after their first date. All of this wrapped up in one person means a lot of tears will be shed. 

Natasha

An event planner from New York (who in New York isn’t an event planner?) Natasha loves her legs and her back because she has a cross and a dagger tattoo there. What do you think inspires someone to get a cross and a dagger tattooed on their legs all the way up to their back? Real question. 

Payton (not how you spell this name) 

1. “Payton (not how you spell this name) is the type of woman who goes into a bar alone and leaves with 100 new best friends”. No she doesn’t. 

2. Payton (not how you spell this name) found out she had a fifth sibling, “thanks to some serious Facebooking”. No she didn’t. 

3. Payton (not how you spell this name) currently lives in her parents’ basement. That explains why she included 1 + 2 in her bio. 

Sarah

I put my thousands of hours watching every iteration on this show that Sarah is in the final three. She is the Whitney B. of Chris Soules’ season. Like, exactly. Job in medicine, sweet looking blonde, thoughtful and targeted responses to bio questions... calling it now. 

Savannah

Savannah has done her research on what makes Bachelor Nation contestants famous, post show. She claims she enjoys shopping at Revolve, a brand that thrives on leveraging former suitresses as influencers. See: JoJo, Kaitlyn, Hannah G., Caelynn, Caila and other misspelled names from Bachelor seasons past. Her indulgence is Vampire Facials, a trend also posted to IG stories from the aforementioned. She refers to herself as the “turtle princess” and I hope that means what I desperately need it to mean. 

Shiann

In her bio, she claims her dating history includes men with wives, men that ghost her and men that like her friends more than they like her. Sounds like Las Vegas (where she lives) to a tee. She will not make it past night one. 

Sydney

Sydney is coming onto the show with a broken heart. Her favorite holiday is Valentine’s Day and her hobbies including planning fantasy vacations for her and her unknown future husband. She will absolutely come out of the limo with a cupcake and a poorly written poem for Peter, that he won’t remember. 

Tammy

Tammy wanted so desperately to be on the mens wrestling team in high school, that when they told her no, she just showed up to all of their practices until they let her...wrestle. She will be interrupting one-on-one time when she’s not supposed to and show up to Peters hotel room unannounced more than once this season. Tammy also has a vanity license plate and the combination of all of this is just too much for me to think about.

Victoria F. (apparently there is more than one Victoria this season) 

She wants it to be known that she likes a man that cries in public and I already do not relate. She also responded to her bio questions with run on sentences so again, I do not relate. Good luck, Victoria F.  

Victoria P. (the second Victoria it seems)

I’m fairly certain I’ve seen Victoria P. in a porn, but either way, she leads with losing her father at a young age, her mother and sister struggling with drug addiction and her boyfriend cheating on her, but she states that nothing upsets her more than finding raisins in her cookies. Like, despite it all, dried grapes really piss Victoria P. off. Priorities. 

What are your thoughts after reading the bios? Will you watch this season? Tell me everything. 

[spine-buster]

I Thought You Might Be Mine (Ricochet) - Part V

January 16, 2018 Orlando, Florida

Iris was conveniently left out of the loop.  She had no idea what was going on.  No idea what was happening.  She thought, at first, that it was fake news.  That he would have told her beforehand.  That he would have mentioned something so she didn’t have to find out through the internet through a headline.

Trevor “Ricochet” Mann Joins WWE Performance Centre.

On the outside, she maintained her cool.  There was a lot of buzz and energy around the Performance Centre because Candice LeRae and War Machine had also signed.  But on the inside?  Iris was freaking out.  Freaking.  Out.

She had texted him at least twenty times since the press release had gone out, each message getting progressively more vulgar since he wasn’t answering her.

Is this real? Are you for real right now? You signed and you didn’t tell me? Okay, so you definitely signed.  Why wasn’t I informed?! Are you going to be here today?  It says you are but are they just saying that? Trevor you better start answering me. BITCH!!!! Candice is here too!!!! WHO CARES ABOUT YOU?! TREVOR MANN YOU BETTER ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW you sumbich ANSWER.  ME.  BITCH.   RICK O’SHEA I’M GOING TO PUNCH YOU WHEN I SEE YOU WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING ME!!!!!!!!!!!! IF YOU WALK IN THOSE DOORS WITHOUT TEXTING ME FIRST I’M GONNA SKIN YOU ALIVE WITH A POTATO PEELER I’M GONNA CUT U UP SO BAD U GON WISH I NO CUT U UP SO BAD ok I see how it is

She could barely concentrate on her work.  The thought of him being in the same building without her knowing occupied most of her thoughts.  She wondered if he would ask to see her, or if that would be seen as unprofessional on either of their parts.  People knew that they were best friends, though – so it couldn’t be deemed unprofessional.  Right?

She spent her time pacing in her office and obsessively refreshing Twitter on her phone to see if there was any more news to do with his signing or his showing up at the Performance Centre since he wasn’t answering her in any capacity.  She was trying to see if he had been spotted at the airport or something.  Maybe one of the novice recruits had tweeted something out.  God, she felt like such a stalker.  

Just as she was about to open another search tab, a loud knock came at her door.  “Miss Capshaw, are you in there?” she heard William Regal on the other end.  “I need to speak to you for a moment.”

“Come on in, Mr. Regal,” she called out, switching her screen to a lesson instead of Twitter.  She even went so far as to pretend to ‘look busy’, a move she learned from George Costanza, and shuffled some papers on her desk.  

The door opened slowly, and William Regal stood in a suit in the doorway.  “You have a visitor, Miss Capshaw, whom I believe you know very well,” he said, a small smirk on his face.  

When Trevor appeared beside him, already decked out in a WWE shirt and shorts, Iris jumped up from out of her seat.  She tried to remain as calm as possible, but her sudden movement made both Trevor and William chuckle.  “Trevor!” she smiled from ear to ear.

“Is the potato peeler you’re gonna skin me alive with in your desk or what?” he asked.  

The rhetorical question garnered a chuckle out of Regal.  “I’ll let you two catch up and I’ll be back in five minutes.  I think someone has some explaining to do,” he nodded his head towards Trevor before leaving the room, closing the door half way.

When he was gone, Iris ran to Trevor and jumped into his arms.  He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face into the crook of her neck, letting her scent intoxicate him.  It had been so long.  So long.  “Hey, baby,” he whispered.  

“Is this a dream?”

Trevor chuckled.  “I told you I’d follow you wherever you go.  Just took me a bit longer.”

Had he ever lied to her?  He even kept his promises he’d said in the heat of the moment.  “You actually signed here.  Why didn’t you tell me?”

He set her down but kept his arms wrapped around her.  If it were up to him, he’d be touching her all day.  “I have to keep some things as a surprise.  Makes life interesting.”

Oh, did it ever.  They were finally living in the same city.  The possibilities now were endless.  She wouldn’t be constantly asking him where he was in the world so she could work out the time difference.  She’d know where he would be.  And she’d probably be with him.  At least when he was in Orlando.  “Do you have an apartment yet?  A hotel?  Where are you staying?” Iris asked.

Trevor couldn’t help but laugh.  She sounded exactly as she did four years ago when they first met each other in Japan.  “Where have I heard that before?” he winked.  “I’m closing on a place in about a week.”

She gulped.  He was really here.  He was staying.  She brought her hands up to cup his face.  “I can’t believe this, Trev.”

“I know.  It’s nuts.”

“You should come over tonight,” she blurted out.  Now that she knew he was here, and here for good, she wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.  “We can order in, catch up, all that good stuff.”

“I’m never gonna say no to that.”

When Trevor knocked on Iris’s apartment door with two bags full of sushi, he was already thinking about what they could do together next.  He’d already managed to drive his everyday car and was using it to get around, but he still had his retro Mustang to drive to Orlando from Paducah.  He wondered if she’d be able to get two days off to fly out to Paducah with him and drive it down together.  That time together, alone, would be a luxury he’d pay a million dollars for.

When Iris opened the door, she was on the phone.  She greeted him by giving him a hug and let him in her apartment, but she made no attempt to end the conversation.  She was speaking Spanish, and she spoke it with such life and passion that all Trevor could do was stand in her kitchen dumbfounded, listening to her talk.  He’d heard her speak her vast array of languages before – English, French, Spanish, German, Arabic, Persian, Cantonese, and Japanese – and every time it was music to his ears.  She could speak Klingon and make it sound good.

By the time she hung up, Trevor had already laid out the sushi, gotten plates and cups, and was sitting down at her coffee table, flipping through the channels on the TV to see if there was anything good on to be playing in the background.  Judging by the fact that she was speaking Spanish, he knew she was more than likely on the phone with her mom, who was originally from Cuba.  

“Sorry about that,” she said as she approached the coffee table, taking a seat directly beside him instead of across from him.  “You know my mom.  When she gets going she really gets going.”

“It’s all good,” Trevor said.  “For someone who hasn’t been home for more than two weeks in five years, you’re allowed to talk to your mom all damn day.  You could have kicked me out and I would have understood.”

“Who would eat all this sushi though?”

Trevor gave her a look.  “Don’t think I can’t eat all this by myself.  You remember that Korean barbecue restaurant.”

Iris snorted.  “They almost kicked you out cause you wouldn’t stop eating.”

“Exactly.  So all this sushi is nothing to me.”

She nudged him with her elbow before grabbing a pair of chopsticks and breaking them apart.  Trevor watched as she took the entire tray of red dragon rolls and unloaded seven out of the eight pieces onto her plate.  He gave her major side-eye.  “What?” she asked.

“Am I gonna starve?”

“Bitch shut the fuck up!” she screamed, causing Trevor to throw his head back and cackle.  “I will fucking end you.  You don’t even like red dragon rolls!”

“Whatever, girl.  Just eat your food.”

Iris rolled her eyes.  She was so fucking happy.  So fucking happy.  Sushi was in front of her and Trevor was beside her.  What more could she want?  What more could she need?  “So anyways, when’s Tessa coming in to celebrate with you?” she asked.

Trevor shook his head.  “She’s not.  We broke up.”

Iris didn’t even bat an eyelash at the statement.  She stuffed her face with a piece of sushi.  “When are you guys getting back together?” she asked, knowing their routine.  It was all too familiar.

“No no,” Trevor shook his head.  “There’s no getting back together.  We broke up for good this time.”

That made Iris pay more attention.  “What happened?”

“She thought it was selfish of me to sign with WWE because she wants to sign with Impact.  It made me realize she’s that person who thinks that another person following his or her own dreams instead of her’s are selfish.  And I absolutely cannot be with a person like that.”

Wow.  So this was it – this was the end of Tessa and Trevor.  She couldn’t believe they had finally, finally called it quits.  Despite their breakups in the past, it always felt inevitable that they would get back together – they always managed to work it out.  But something in Trevor’s tone told her he was done – there would be no turning back from this decision.  He’d made the decision to sign with the WWE and move down to Orlando for himself and himself only – to follow his dream, and nobody else’s.

“I’m really sorry, Trev,” Iris said, setting her chopsticks down.

“You don’t have to be sorry.  It was a long time coming.”

“You invested two and a half years into that relationship.  She’s met Cameron,” Iris said.  “I know this is probably better for the both of you in the long run but you’re still allowed to feel sad about it.”

“That’s the thing though…I don’t feel sad,” Trevor revealed.  “I don’t exactly feel liberated, or happy, but I’m not sad about it.  We were going down two different paths.  She couldn’t acknowledge why mine was important to me.  She couldn’t acknowledge that I wanted to live my dream.  That’s it.”

Iris didn’t know what to say.  On one hand, it was a long time coming, like Trevor said earlier.  On the other hand, breakups were never nice.  She’d met Tessa a handful of times over the years, however briefly, and she seemed like a nice enough girl – whether or not Tessa was putting on airs and graces, Iris would never know.  She would never know what Tessa was like in private with Trevor.  And she would never find out.  

“So have you and Ryder set a date for the wedding yet?” Trevor asked suddenly.  “It’s been like, what?  Almost a year since you two have gotten engaged?”

Iris tried to look anywhere besides at him.  “Uh, no.”

This was going to be an interesting conversation.  “Why the hell not?”

“He um…he’s working really hard and it’s leading to another promotion soon, and he wants to get that promotion before we get married.”

‘This dude loves work more than he loves you’ Trevor thought.  He wanted to scream it into her face.  He wanted to scream it from the rooftops.  He wanted to call Ryder and scream it into the phone.  He wanted to rent one of those planes that fly a message from the tail and have it circle her apartment for an entire month.  Why couldn’t she see it?  Why wouldn’t Ryder just break up with her?  He was chasing promotion after promotion.

“We have decided to do it in Manhattan, though,” Iris revealed.  “At least that’s been decided.”

“Well that’s a step,” Trevor tried to say diplomatically, but Iris could hear the sarcasm in his voice.  Now they’d have to wait another two years to get any venue in Manhattan.  

“Can we…can we not talk about it,” Iris mumbled, fiddling with her chopsticks.  

“Why not?”  

“Because I know you don’t like him.  And I know you wished you had met me eight or nine months earlier than you did so that I wouldn’t have met him,” she said.  “But we’re best friends instead.  And I love it that way.  I love that we’re so close and we can talk to each other about anything and it’s never weird.  I only want to talk about happy things tonight because tonight is cause for celebration – nothing else.”

‘We were lovers once, too’ Trevor wanted to say.  He was still unable to get that night out of his mind, almost a year later.  We were lovers once, and it was beautiful.  And I would do it again in a second.  Instead, he found himself nodding his head.  “We good, baby,” he agreed with her.  “Shoulda told me it was a celebration cause I would have bought some Dom.”

“Joke’s on you because I have Knots donuts on the counter.”

Trevor watched as Iris loaded the dishwasher of their plates used at dinner.  With sushi and donuts sitting in his stomach, he was ready to plop down on the couch and not move for a solid three hours, or at least until everything digested.  He and Iris had taken their sweet time with eating, catching up on every aspect of their lives and work.  He showed her how his house was just a short drive from the Performance Centre, and therefore just a short drive from her apartment, too.  Then he thought about how much time could be spent together due to the simple fact they lived less than fifteen minutes away from each other, and he got even more excited.  

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Iris asked as he was lost in thought.  “Are you in a food coma or what?”

“I’m just thinking about all the fun we’re gonna have in Orlando,” Trevor smiled.  

Iris smiled too, loading the last dish before closing the dishwasher and jumping up to sit on the counter.  “We’re gonna have such a great time.  It’s no Tokyo, but it’ll do.”

Trevor walked over to her slowly, keeping his eyes on her as he stood in front of her, between her legs.  He brought his arms up and around her waist, inching closer to her.  She brought her hands up and rested them around his neck.  Trevor looked up at her, taking in the sight of being so close to her.  “It’s taking every ounce of self restraint in me not to kiss you right now,” Trevor said.

“Good.  Because you can’t.”

“I know that,” Trevor digressed.  “Ain’t exactly happy about it, but I know.”  They didn’t break eye contact, even for a second.  “We can still cuddle though.  We always cuddle and watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine.  That’s our thing.”

They had a lot of things, that was for sure.  Tokyo.  Sushi.  Brownies.  Donuts from Knots Bakery.  Cuddling and Brooklyn Nine-Nine.  “Let’s go,” she found herself saying, and she couldn’t conceal the smile that appeared on her face when she saw the smile on Trevor’s.

He picked her up from the counter and she wrapped her legs around him as he carried her towards the couch.  He saw down first, with her on top of him, and she rearranged herself so that her legs were in his lap and she could lay her head on his chest.  Trevor’s arm was wrapped around her, his hand already finding her exposed skin from where her shirt had ridden up, while the other rested in between her thighs.  She thought back to the last time they were in this position and the…actions they had gotten up to.  Iris knew that Trevor would never expect it to happen again, but she did wonder what was going through his mind as they cuddled so close to one another.  She could never tire of cuddling with him, but he always managed to find a way to make the opportunities more touchy and intimate.

When the cold open of season two of Brooklyn Nine-Nine began to play, she focused her attention on the TV.  Joke after joke, laugh after laugh, they stayed wrapped up in each other.  Trevor would joke that she was exactly like Boyle, her favourite character, which caused her to laugh even more.  Throughout the night, his hands wandered slowly, his left finally settling into playing with her hair while he placed light kisses on the crown of her head and forehead.  

Iris never asked him to stop.  

When it was almost one in the morning, the sun having gone down hours ago, the giggling and laughing becoming fewer and farther in between due to the fatigue from the day, Trevor’s hands were still playing with her hair, his lips still firmly planted on her forehead.  

“Iris?” he whispered, making sure she was still awake.

“Mhm?” she mumbled back to him faintly.

“I don’t care where we are in the world.  Tokyo, Orlando…I don’t care if we’re in the Sahara Desert or in the middle of fucking Kazakhstan.  Wherever I am with you is where I’m supposed to be, and I know I’m gonna be having the time of my life.”

Iris smiled, biting her lip nervously.  For the first time that night, she moved so she could look directly at him.  “I feel the same about you, you know.  Whenever I’m with you I’m having the time of my life.”

When Trevor smiled, she smiled back at him and went back to resting her head on his chest.  She could feel his lips kissing her forehead before he whispered, in a soft, faint whisper, “I love you baby.”

She didn’t freeze.  She didn’t gasp.  She didn’t overthink.  What she said next was pure instinct.  An automatic reaction.  Something she knew.

“I love you too.”

@wrestlewriting @wrasslin-x @thegenericluchadora @thewriterformerlytaggedas@fan-fiction-galore @anerdysouthernbelle @spot-of-bother @amaranthine-reign@baleesi @flnnbalor @smuppies @sarahmatthews7 @daintymissdevitt@newjapan @corey-renee @running-ropes @balorsomega @karleedaniels27@kazuchika @ileana0300 @alexahood21 @ohcristimhookedonhavocimsodunne@fembxt @heelturn-timesten @kaitlynwwefan @50shadesofadamcolebaybay@50shadesofkennyomega @chasingeverybreakingwave @thyestean-feast @thecandicej @devittsbalor @sp00kylesley @danahart @sietefinns@kaydee-kayyyy @powerbombshell @swedish-strong-style @blondekel77@irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @nickysmum1909 @houndofjustice-imagines @wwesmutdonedirtcheap @wweximaginesxd @indywrestlinglover-life @mandi512 @kakakatey @ourscratcheddreams @sleeplessandcynical @badame124 @thevixeniris @fabulousrockstar @lunatic-sambrose @caramara3 @crossfitjesusinskinnyjeans

[jedwussy]

all of them? ;)

Look,,,, why do any of you take me seriously i hate you thanks xxxx this is gonna be the last well formatted section i hope u know that.  @lgbtposts here u mcfuckin go

200: My crush’s name is: probs amy but im trying for that to not be the case rn199: I was born in: Blackburn, 1999.198: I am really: fuckin cool197: My cellphone company is: EE196: My eye color is: blue195: My shoe size is: I mostly wear sixes but im actually between a 4 and a 5.5194: My ring size is: i dont fuckin know i dont even know my bra size193: My height is: see above192: I am allergic to: pollen191: My 1st car was: nonexistent190: My 1st job was: in a shop189: Last book you read: fuckin hell thats a throwback and a half. Probs The Rest Of Us Just Live Here188: My bed is: warm187: My pet: dogs186: My best friend: either Katie or Beef xx185: My favorite shampoo is: not a shampoo but Snow Fairy184: Xbox or ps3: PS4183: Piggy banks are: lame182: In my pockets: washed paper and probably a lighter181: On my calendar: who the fuck has a calendar180: Marriage is: for lame-os and i want to be a lame-o one day179: Spongebob can: go away178: My mom: is boring177: The last three songs I bought were?: probs this good robots album who pays for music. 176: Last YouTube video watched: Phils new one175: How many cousins do you have? None that i know of, my mam has loads with kids so i call them cousins but theyre some other convoluted thing174: Do you have any siblings? aye173: Are your parents divorced? aye172: Are you taller than your mom? aye171: Do you play an instrument? aye170: What did you do yesterday? fuck all, pretedned to write an essay mostly. played some overwatch[ I Believe In ]169: Love at first sight: aye168: Luck:aye167: Fate:aye166: Yourself:nah165: Aliens: i want to believe164: Heaven: aye163: Hell: of course,, thts my life ha ha ha162: God: nah161: Horoscopes: sure 160: Soul mates: totally159: Ghosts: why not158: Gay Marriage: Comme une lesbienne, je suis partial. 157: War: what is it good for156: Orbs: why not, idk what this means tho155: Magic: nah[ This or That ]154: Hugs or Kisses: kisses153: Drunk or High: either or, never together. rn probs high152: Phone or Online: online151: Red heads or Black haired: Cherry Red like party mcfuckin poison i love them150: Blondes or Brunettes: probs brunette149: Hot or cold: hot148: Summer or winter: summer147: Autumn or Spring: autumn146: Chocolate or vanilla: vanilla145: Night or Day: night144: Oranges or Apples: apples143: Curly or Straight hair: straight142: McDonalds or Burger King: Mcdonalds141: White Chocolate or Milk Chocolate: White140: Mac or PC: PC139: Flip flops or high heels: Heels138: Ugly and rich OR sweet and poor: Ugly and rich fo sure137: Coke or Pepsi: pespi136: Hillary or Obama: obama135: Burried or cremated: set me the fuck on fire134: Singing or Dancing: singing133: Coach or Chanel: what the fuck are those132: Kat McPhee or Taylor Hicks: idk131: Small town or Big city: city130: Wal-Mart or Target: targe129: Ben Stiller or Adam Sandler: neither128: Manicure or Pedicure: get away from me,, leave my nails alone127: East Coast or West Coast: east126: Your Birthday or Christmas:christmas125: Chocolate or Flowers: flowers,, but living ones. plants. 124: Disney or Six Flags: disney123: Yankees or Red Sox: neither[ Here’s What I Think About ]122: War: use your words121: George Bush: go away120: Gay Marriage: gay119: The presidential election: fuck off118: Abortion: dont want one dont mcfuckin get one117: MySpace: dead116: Reality TV: boring115: Parents: eh114: Back stabbers: bye113: Ebay: amazons shitty cousin112: Facebook: boring but i use111: Work: kill me110: My Neighbors: named their kid the same as me fuck off shouting her name109: Gas Prices: idk i dont pay attention stop using crude oil108: Designer Clothes: i cant afford that shit107: College: cool106: Sports: not cool 105: My family: eh104: The future: *screaming at the void*

[ Last time I ]103: Hugged someone: Rosies mam on tuesday lmao102: Last time you ate: popcorn rn101: Saw someone I haven’t seen in awhile: uh idk maybe morgan when i last saw them at lloyds?100: Cried in front of someone: probs katie during my Major Breakdown of february99: Went to a movie theater: fuckin civil war i dont go to the cinema98: Took a vacation: florida, 201497: Swam in a pool: summer 201696: Changed a diaper:never95: Got my nails done: pre-mothers wedding94: Went to a wedding:mothers wedding93: Broke a bone: never92: Got a peircing: septum in november91: Broke the law: i smoked weed a couple of weeks back90: Texted: rn[ MISC ]89: Who makes you laugh the most: beef88: Something I will really miss when I leave home is: my bed and or dogs87: The last movie I saw: ¾ of the green mile86: The thing that I’m looking forward to the most: leavers85: The thing im not looking forward to: c2 on wednesday84: People call me: kyra83: The most difficult thing to do is: live82: I have gotten a speeding ticket: nah81: My zodiac sign is: aquarius80: The first person i talked to today was: Amy79: First time you had a crush: i was like, 878: The one person who i can’t hide things from: beef77: Last time someone said something you were thinking: beef rn76: Right now I am talking to: ally, morgan, amy.75: What are you going to do when you grow up: be a skience74: I have/will get a job: in science73: Tomorrow: never comes72: Today: sleep71: Next Summer: screaming70: Next Weekend: get10 smashed for leavers ayyyyy69: I have these pets: 2 dog ,, revel n jack jack 68: The worst sound in the world: poorly tuned violin being played very poorly67: The person that makes me cry the most is: amy r i p 66: People that make you happy: hannah hart, beef, keg65: Last time I cried: last night64: My friends are: fuckin lovely63: My computer is: shitty62: My School: sux61: My Car: doesnt exist60: I lose all respect for people who: are bigots59: The movie I cried at was: pride58: Your hair color is:blonde ( 4 now)57: TV shows you watch: watching through friends and yoi rn. just started futurama, putting off watching greys56: Favorite web site: dont got one55: Your dream vacation: flo rida to new york gay road trip54: The worst pain I was ever in was: brace pain 53: How do you like your steak cooked: medium rare52: My room is: grey, green and a mess51: My favorite celebrity is: hannah hart  (ilhsm)50: Where would you like to be: somewhere sunny49: Do you want children: aye48: Ever been in love: probs idk anymore i think so47: Who’s your best friend: Beef or Keg46: More guy friends or girl friends: girls45: One thing that makes you feel great is: Validation44: One person that you wish you could see right now: beef probs she could do with a hug43: Do you have a 5 year plan: bitch i dont even have a 5 minute plan42: Have you made a list of things to do before you die: nah41: Have you pre-named your children: nah. but i like Atlas40: Last person I got mad at: myself lol39: I would like to move to: canadia38: I wish I was a professional: science[ My Favorites ]37: Candy: skittles36: Vehicle: cool motorbikes35: President: obmam34: State visited: florida33: Cellphone provider: EE32: Athlete: a what now31: Actor: chris pratt30: Actress: uh probs scarjo dont come for me i love her voice in her ok29: Singer: Miley cyrus atm28: Band: mcr27: Clothing store: fuckin love asda me26: Grocery store: fuckin love aldi25: TV show: atm yoi24: Movie: Her23: Website: idk22: Animal: Tapir21: Theme park: Busch gardens or however the fcku you spell it20: Holiday: xmas19: Sport to watch: rugby18: Sport to play: a who now17: Magazine: i secretly love vogue16: Book: either wicdiv or killjoys15: Day of the week: saturday14: Beach: south shields13: Concert attended: fiatc,, i touched his butt12: Thing to cook: pasta11: Food: pasta10: Restaurant: deanos9: Radio station: kerrang8: Yankee candle scent: vanilla7: Perfume: theres an Alexander Mcqueen one that was designed to smell like sex but i love it anyway6: Flower: orchid5: Color: pink4: Talk show host: gotta say ellen for the lesbians3: Comedian: fight me i like jimmy car2: Dog breed: i love all doggos1: Did you answer all these truthfully? idk i think so

[junker-town]

Why did you choose where you went to school? Share #CollegeSigningDay stories

The “Reach Higher” initiative was founded by First Lady Michelle Obama as a way to inspire students to realize their potential and continue their education past high school. It’s increasingly difficult in today’s economy to compete with a high school diploma alone, which makes the importance of completing a professional training program, community college or four-year university more critical than ever.

The “North Star” goal was set to attempt to have America have the highest proportion of college graduates in the world by 2020. Today members of Vox Media would like to share with you our stories of how we picked our colleges by asking “Why did you choose the college you went to?”

Alex Kirshner:

I went to college at Maryland, and I picked it because it had my desired program (journalism), was near a city I loved (Washington), was big enough to give me a lot of choices, and was close to some family. Those things were all good, but it turned out the best thing about it was the people I met there.

Jessica Smetana:

My mom and my dad graduated from Notre Dame in the Class of 1982 with accounting degrees. They raised me in Chicago and Saturdays in the fall were synonymous with road trips to South Bend. During those weekends I feel in love with the campus, the traditions, and unfortunately the football team itself. I cheered for the Irish through the Bob Davie era, the Ty Willingham era, the Charlie Weis era, and even the ever so short George O’Leary era. I was lucky, or sometimes...unlucky enough to attend Notre Dame during the Brian Kelly era. But graduating inside Notre Dame Stadium while my parents watched from the bleachers was a dream come true.

James Dator:

I accidentally picked the wrong college after thinking I was attending North Carolina, but really I was attending the University of North Carolina - Greensboro. Sure we sucked at sports, but I got an amazing education and met friends I’ll have with me for the rest of my life.

Christine Conetta:

I was one of the first people in my family to go to college, so deciding where I wanted to go was a big deal. I ultimately decided on Towson University because it had a strong journalism and tv production program. Four years later, all of my family was there cheering me on when I walked across the stage at my college graduation. I could feel their pride from the crowd, and it was a moment I knew I would never forget.

Kurt Mensching:

I chose Michigan State because it was truly the school that fit me best. A little bit country -- it is Moo U, the original land grant agricultural college -- but also enough of a city feel to it with great opportunities to do cultural things while getting a great education. I loved the campus at first sight, the way the Red Cedar flows through it and turns the entire campus into just a beautiful park. There are gardens everywhere. It's the kind of place you just want to spend all day at. I really enjoyed my time there and think it prepared me well for the future.

Morgan Moriarty

I graduated from the University of Florida just two years ago. The reason I went to UF is that it was my absolute dream school growing up, so it was the No. 1 school on my list I applied to. My mom went there, so I was pretty much born and raised worshipping Florida football -- my first game was when I was still a baby! My four years there were the best of my entire life, and I'm so grateful for my time there.

I also have this hilarious picture I drew in 3rd grade of my graduating from UF.

Dayana Sarkisova:

As an immigrant, I knew from a very young age that in order to attend the school of my choice in the United States I'd have to get good at — something. I started fencing at the age of six, and was fortunate enough to be offered a full athletic scholarship to Northwestern University after my junior year of high school. I didn't know anything about the university except that it was in my favorite city — Chicago — but the opportunity was enough for me. What followed afterward was easily four of the best years of my life.

Louis Bien:

Why I went to Wisconsin:

My sisters are six years older than me, and I watched them go to Wisconsin first. I had a great time whenever I visited them -- Madison is beautiful, and the sense of community there was unlike anything I had ever felt. It was the perfect combination of serious academics with a laid back, fun atmosphere. And it helped that I liked sports, too. I can't imagine going anywhere else.

Grant Brisbee:

I turned 16 my senior year because I'm a damned genius, and I was going to go to a community college because I was damned lazy. This was fine with my parents, who (rightfully) suspected that I was too young to be on my own in college.

Then the spring came, and all my friends started getting acceptance letters. "I'm going to UCLA!" "I'm going to UC Davis!" I felt incredibly left out, so I panicked and looked for schools that had open application periods.

And, ho, what's this? Southern Oregon State College has an open application period? And they're in Ashland, a city I had been to and enjoyed? With a robust theater program, which was going to be my major? And they're so thirsty for my sweet, sweet out-of-state money, they'll overlook the 2.6 GPA? It was meant to be.

tl;dr: I applied to one college in May of my senior year after being a bad student for years, and somehow it worked. I'm reminded of this fact when the $300 auto-withdraws from my account every month.

Julia Rubin:

I went to Penn, which was my first-choice school for a whole bunch of reasons. I was set on going somewhere that didn't have a journalism program, but did have a great student paper. I wanted to be in a city, but on a contained campus. Being able to get back home to St. Louis via a direct flight was important to me. I liked that it had a pretty big student population relative to its peers, and that it was known for being social. Also, the old buildings: so pretty. But mostly, when I went on a tour there the summer before senior year, it just felt like a place I'd like to call home.

Ryan Van Bibber:

College wasn't really a choice for me. My dad worked in construction, and I joined him for a couple of summers. He knew I would probably starve if I followed him into the building business. That was his joke anyway. The construction business, as we experienced it, had a lot of ups and downs, occasional layoffs and plenty of underemployment thanks to economic forces well outside our control. My parents were adamant that I went to school so I could have a better life and not have to constantly be worried about paying the bills that month, much less paying for my own children to go school or retirement.

The only caveat was that I wanted to go far away, get the hell out of the Midwest. So picked the University of Wyoming, roughly 900 miles from home, relatively affordable and generous with the scholarship offers. More importantly, it was out West, and that's where I wanted I be.

In four (well, four and a half) years there, I made lifelong friendships and earned a history degree, which isn't nearly as worthless as people tried to tell me it would be. It honed my critical thinking skills, made me a better writer and editor and it let me tell and share stories, which is what I love doing more than anything else. Oh, I also had plenty of time for fly fishing, skiing and long stretches of vagrancy throughout the Mountain West.

And ultimately, though it took some time, it did lead to a better life.

Seth Rosenthal:

Friendly student body, small classes with interesting professors who do interesting research, gorgeous campus, no frats.

⚡️ “You'd Better Make Room, #CollegeSigningDay is HERE. ” by @BetterMakeRoomhttps://t.co/ZuDjj7omjs

— Better Make Room (@BetterMakeRoom) May 5, 2017

Sarah Hardy:

The boring reason I decided to go to Ohio State — THE Ohio State University, just to annoy the rest of you — was because my parents went there. And when you grow up with Ohio State fanatics, you’re going to become indoctrinated too (I say this with love and an unapologetic amount of pride).

But to be honest, the real reason I chose Ohio State is that I had a premonition and knew that one day, The Spot would be good.