#me when DoorDash gets my order wrong and I get a free drink

[taxonomicons]

[didnt-hear-cold-as-you-live]

How do I even put this. Where do I even start. I tried to write a song but I don’t know what to even say because I don’t know if words can even touch what this feels like.

I have not set foot in one place that I was in the summer of 2022.

That was the summer of my first bus tour. My first big tour. The tour of my dreams. The kind of tour I’ve fantasized about being on since I was 15. The kind of tour that made me want to do this as a career. The whole tour package was a family in a way it has never been before or since. The opening bands took me out for ice cream some mornings. We all explored new cities together. We stayed out drinking until 4am. I had long talks with a random new person every day. I was creating the best work of my life. I was surrounded by 20 people or more at all times. I was making more than people my age with salaried jobs in finance.

On July 5, 2022, a part of me died. A part of me was ruined. A part of me was torn apart by a thousand hyenas while I was fed something to keep me alive, to force me to sit and watch in horror. A hand covered my mouth as I tried to scream. Nothing was ever the same. People talk of a light in my eyes that was present before it. Which hasn’t returned. And won’t. No matter how much time moves. Nothing will undo it and nothing will ever set it back. No innonence will return. My heart was cut open and a weight was put inside and I was stitched back together weighted but empty, and broken in a way where there will always be cracks.

On June 25, 2022, ten days before, I was in the room I’m in right now. I don’t remember anything about it because it was blocked out by the horror that came after, and yet being here now I’m remembering everything. DoorDash fucked up my order. There was a rave in the downstairs part of the venue. We could participate from the balcony. We spent a lot of time out there. The room was sweaty. The night was sweaty. It felt free like the summer that was laid out before me, seemingly endless. The show was good. I SEE it. I see it unfolding before my eyes as I stand here like a movie I’m watching. My memories are never that vivid.

It was 10 days before the day that would kill me off and I didn’t even know.

I checked out of that tour after it happened. It was hard to try. It was hard to think. It was hard to focus. I was there but I was a ghost. My mind was somewhere else. All I remember about the whole thing is The Empty. It got worse as the days passed. The people around me cared but they were afraid for me. Because they knew it could get worse. They knew the tour was the only thing holding me together. They told me I needed to hold it together because if it was too obvious something happened and too many people asked too many questions, the wrong people would find out WHAT happened. And I’d have to be gone for optics.

They were right to say that because it’s the cruel way the world works. But it understandably made it harder to focus. I was there and I watched the days roll by, but half of me was a ghost. I cried every singular moment no one was looking. I had many shoulders to cry on but strangers could only be that so many times. They told me, “Holly, don’t fuck up this opportunity for yourself. Don’t you dare do it”. I still hear their voices ringing in my head when they said it. I heard it in my head all summer. And I knew they were right, so I didn’t fuck up the career part of it.

But so it goes, it was the best summer of my life and I don’t remember any of it because a tsunami washed over it and dragged it and pummeled it and washed it away until there was nothing left. I don’t feel that many ways about what happened anymore, if I don’t have to think about it. But what I do feel, is the fact that I lost that summer to sea.

And now here I am in this room that saw me back when everything was fine; 10 days before Vesuvius exploded, unaware that anything happened at all. Washing the memories back over me of the last 10 days I’ll ever be able to have felt lightness about me. The last 10 days I didn’t have something I had to lock away. The last 10 days I felt capable of people knowing everything about me and that fact feeling safe. Feeling like aspects of me could be relatable to anyone, before knowing that my greatest heartache I’ll ever feel in this life was so unique, so strange, a depth and genre of pain no one around me could EVER feel, or begin to even imagine. A level on which I will never be fully understood by anyone, ever again. I tell some people because it comes up and I pretend I’m over it. But I tell them because of a strange compulsion. Not because I feel safe. A new part of me finds a way to die every time I think about it. And this room saw me right before it all. When my world was still beautiful, when the light still came in.

Nothing about this room knows.

But I’m in this room, and I know.

I see all of the ghosts.

[pettyvxbes]

COLSON BAKER x READER - OCEAN EYES IV

BRIAN, JIMI, JANIS, KURT, AND. . .COLSON?

"Can we get two 16oz house drips, one black with two sugars and the other with two sugars and a splash of cream?" He ordered, remembering exactly how you took your coffee, even after all the time you'd been separated. It made you smile, knowing that you still occupied some space in his mind.

"So this is your coffee shop?" You asked, leaning against the side of the counter as you waited for your drinks.

"Yeah, I opened it last year. It turned out pretty cool." He smiled as he looked around the room. You could tell he was proud of it.

"It's badass" You agreed with him.

"If you're hungry, we serve brunch." Colson handed you a menu to peruse. "This is actually why I was at the farmers market. All of our fruits and vegetables are local." You looked over the list of food, noticing all of the fresh ingredients.

"That's so cool. Everything sounds delicious." You said, flipping the menu over to continue exploring. On the opposite side, you found a cocktail menu. Some of the drink names made you chuckle. There was 'the gunner,' 'sex, dope, and cheap thrills,' 'screw me' with its counterpart, 'screw you,' and the 'you know I'm no good.' Without even seeing the ingredients, you immediately thought that the last one sounded like a drink you'd choose.

Colson exchanged the menu in your hands with a coffee cup filled with hot coffee. You looked at him and gave him a weak thank you smile which he inadvertently returned, and just like that, you were taken back to the first morning you had ever spent together.

You woke up randomly as the sun was shining through the tiny window of your dorm room. You were still wearing the same clothes from the night before. It confused you because you hadn't even remembered falling asleep. The last thing you could recollect was laying with Colson in your XL twin bed, which he noted multiple times was fantastic because his tall, lanky ass fit perfectly.

"Good morning," Colson whispered. It took you a moment to fully wake up, but you noticed how your bodies were intertwined when you did. Your head was on his chest, and his arm was holding you close to him. It was cozy.

"Good morning." You repeated, squeezing him and nuzzling your face into his neck. "How long have you been awake?" You asked sleepily, afraid that you were the only one who had dozed off.

You and Colson had agreed to stay up as long as you could talking to each other. After all, it was the first time you had seen each other since Atlanta, and even though you had basically talked every day for the last 3 months, you still had a lot to talk about.

"Not long, maybe like fifteen.. . twenty minutes" He shrugged. "I didn't want to wake you. I just wanted to lay here and hold you a little longer, watch you sleep, smell your hair." He squeezed you, placing a small kiss on the top of your head. "I wanted to memorize all of it because this weekend will be over before we know it, and then It'll be back to facetime calls and falling asleep on the phone."

"Blahhh, don't remind me." You pouted, sitting up to face him. You enjoyed every single second you got to spend with that blue-eyed boy in your bed, and you never wanted it to end. He had quickly become your best friend, your person.

"Sorry. Y'know, you're fucking cute when you're sleepy" Colson smiled at you, no makeup and hair a mess. To him, you were perfection. "Oh, I ordered coffee." He said excitedly as he sat up, reaching for the cups on the table next to your bed. "Remind me to thank your roommate later. She was not very happy when she was woken up by the Doordash driver." He chuckled.

"She'll get over it" You took the warm cup from him, sipping slowly. Careful not to burn your mouth. You immediately spit the coffee back into the cup, scrunching your nose up at the taste. The coffee was sweeter than a glazed chocolate donut filled with thousands of tiny sprinkles. You thoroughly enjoyed coffee, and you liked to be able to taste the flavor in every sip.

"Shit, did I get it wrong?" He asked worriedly. It was one of the topics you had discussed last night, and he had already forgotten.

"Yeah, but we've never had coffee together, so I'll give you a free pass." You joked. "Two sugars and a splash of cream," you reminded him with a small smile.

"I swear I will never forget again." He promised, passing you his coffee to share.

"Let's sit back here" Colson's voice pulled you from your memory. As you followed him to the back of the coffee shop, you noticed photos of different famous musicians on each table.

"What's with the pictures?" You asked, gesturing towards a table with Kurt Cobains' face on it.

"They're all a part of the 27 club." He could tell by the expression on your face that you had no idea what that meant. "a bunch of artists and entertainers that died at the age of 27." Colson explained.

"Oh." you gasped, finally understanding the name of his coffee shop.

Colson led you to a table in the back corner. It was secluded enough to offer a little privacy from the rest of the customers. You took a seat, instantly noticing the photo that was on your table. It was him. Your narrowed eyes and knitted brows caught his attention, and he followed your gaze to determine the look of confusion on your face.

"You're 31." You stated the obvious.

"Yes, but most days I feel like my life ended when I was 27." He let out a small chuckle.

You took a sip of your coffee, waiting for Colson to elaborate further. Quickly getting distracted by the liquid in your cup. When the coffee first hit your tongue, you could taste a combination of floral and fruity notes, but as you swallowed, you noticed a nutty caramel tone. It was unique and unlike any other coffee, you had ever tried.

"Mmm," You hummed quietly, approving of the noteworthy java in your hand. "You remembered how I like my coffee." You said without thinking.

You regretted it almost instantly. You didn't want to discuss your past relationship or talk to Colson like old friends. You just wanted the explanation you deserved so you could be on your way. It wasn't necessary to spend any more time with him than need be. You didn't want to conjure up old feelings any more than you already had by being in this stupid city.

"I said I would never forget, didn't I?" He looked at you like you made the whole world spin, and for a moment, it was like time stood still.

"God. I'm so stupid." His words came out as a whisper as he looked away from you. Shame and guilt wallpapered his face. "I made the biggest mistake of my life by losing you, and it's something I'm never going to forgive myself for."

"Why'd you leave Colson?" You were blunt, and your words were shaky.

"Because y/n, you deserved better." He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "I was laying there with you in my arms that morning thinking to myself, 'how can I possibly love this amazing woman the way she deserves to be loved when I don't even like who I am."

The sadness in his voice was evident, and you could clearly see the pain in his glossy blue eyes. He hurt himself just as much as he had hurt you.

"I was the biggest fuck up on the planet. You sacrificed your happiness to be with me, to support my dreams, and be my biggest fan. . .I was selfish, and I took you for granted. I broke your heart, and somehow you still managed to see the best in me. It wasn't fair to you. -- Y/n, I had to go because I knew that staying would have been even more painful for you. I was a sinking ship that was burning, and I couldn't bear to be the reason you went down in flames too." A silent tear slid down his cheek.

You sat there speechless as you listened to the explanation you had waited years to hear. You hadn't even realized it, but at some point, you had started tearing up too. Colson reached over, wiping the tears from your face.

"I hate myself for fucking things up with you." He said, staring at you.

You didn't know what it was about him, but when you looked into those blue eyes, you saw a reflection of your soul staring back at you. He was your person, always had been, and always would be. You and Colson had a once-in-a-lifetime connection. The kind of connection that made you feel alive by just being near him, even the silence between you, was comfortable because you felt complete in each other's presence.

"You are worth so much more than second thoughts and maybes'. I am so sorry y/n" You could feel the emotion in Colson's words. His apology was like rain on a dehydrated garden. Grossly overdue, but miraculously just in time.

You sat in silence for a few moments before speaking. "Earlier, when you said you lost your life at 27, what did you mean?" You questioned.

"Y'know, everyone thought I was overreacting after our breakup. . ." He started. You had no idea where he was going with his response, but you let him continue." what they didn't get was how much of my life you really were. . .You were more than just another relationship down the drain. You were my past, my present, and my future. Y/n, you were my life."

At that moment, you understood why his photo sat on a table in that coffee shop. He was a part of the 27 club, not because he physically perished at 27, but because that was when he lost the only thing that ever made him feel alive, you.

TAG LIST @canyoubuymetoast @ticketstomydaydreams @mvrylee

[quinnfebrey]

When the girls get lit we see Toni watch Shelby walk off. Do you think she puts 2 and 2 together or do you think Shelby and she talks about why she’s scared of leaving? And what do you think that looks like for them?

At first, Toni thinks it was just a one-off. Maybe bad day, maybe the fact that Shelby was clearly struggling with the kiss that had occurred, or, maybe it could really have been anything.

But then it happens again, and again, and again. Leah brings up the plane that flew overhead, Martha talks about seeing her mom, or Fatin jokes about ordering a thousand dollars worth of DoorDash when they get back, and... Shelby retreats.

Sometimes it’s mental, just sort of detaching from the conversation. Her smile fades, down into that sort of close-mouthed grimace she does, and she starts playing with the sand or busying herself with sorting the firewood. Other times, it’s physical. Giving a small “excuse me,” or a curt upturn of her lips, she shuffles off in another direction.

It’s pretty clear she doesn’t want to talk about it, if the immediately leaving any time it comes up is any indication, but Toni can’t help herself. She never was the most patient of people, but she does have the decency to try and wait for the right moment, which presents itself as late that evening.

For being stranded on a deserted island, it’s shockingly cozy to be leaning up against a log with Shelby wrapped up behind her. The crackle of the fire just kisses the tip of her nose, and she hates to ruin it, but the other girls have long since been asleep, and it’s hard enough as it is to get any actual alone time.

She shuffles around for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to say, but she can tell Shelby has noticed and is about to ask her what’s wrong, so she blurts out, “Why don’t you like talking about getting rescued?”

And, okay, it’s not the subtlest she’s ever been.

read on ao3 OR click to finish below

Shelby’s arms around her immediately tense, but Toni’s fingers come up to her sleeved bicep, and the gentle rub she falls into manages to ease her back into a relaxed slump.

“What do you mean?” Shelby asks cautiously.

“You know,” Toni says, shrugging back. “You always seem kinda down when it gets brought up.”

“Oh,” Shelby says, as if even she’s surprised. “Sorry, I didn’t intend to —“

“No,” Toni interrupts quickly. She flushes at how utterly wrong this is going. “I wasn’t trying to accuse you or anything. I’m just curious.” She has an urge to turn and get a glimpse of Shelby’s face to try to gauge what she’s feeling, but decides eye contact would be too much, and settles for, “I want to know.”

“Well, it’s complicated.” The exhale that follows is heavy, breathing a small puff of air onto the back of Toni’s neck, but it doesn’t seem to actually expel any of Shelby’s agitation. Then, “Or, maybe it’s not. I don’t want to go home, Toni.”

Toni gets as far as, “But —“ when Shelby cuts her off.

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” she says, and her tone is laced with a strange sort of fear. “My past, my family, my friends, my future.”

“How can you know your future?” Toni laughs, but Shelby doesn’t share the amusement, and just sighs again.

“It’s been planned for me since… forever, I guess,” Shelby tells her. There’s no humor in her chuckle that follows. “I’m going to follow Andrew to wherever he goes to college, and then I’m going to study something totally toss-away, and drop out whenever he wants to get married. Stay-at-home mom, PTA on Thursday’s, drinking every evening, and eventually, a slow, painful death.”

“Oh.”

This time, Shelby’s giggle is a bit amused.

“Look, my point is that all that stuff you said about being free here?” she asks. Toni nods. “You’re right. And I want that. But that’s here. I don’t know who I’m kidding trying to… be myself, but there’s a Shelby out there that I’ll have to return to.”

It immediately catches in Toni’s ear how she struggles over the phrase ‘by myself,’ as if she doesn’t even know what that’s like. Toni shifts, turning on her side so she’s curled in towards Shelby’s chest, and coaxes their gazes together. “Can I tell you what I see? For us?”

Shelby looks away. “Please, don’t.”

“Hey.” Toni presses a soft kiss to the underside of her jaw until Shelby starts looking down, kissing her away up the side of her face until their lips meet. She pulls back just enough to meet her eyes. “Let me tell you what I see for us.”

“And when I don’t get it?” Shelby asks helplessly. “That’ll be worse than never hearing it at all.”

“What if I can promise you’ll get all of it, and more,” Toni murmurs.

“You can’t,” Shelby whispers back, but with a soft kiss it fades into a breathy, “Okay.”

Sentimentality has never really been Toni’s thing. Not now, not ever. Even comforting Martha through her whole thing with the doctor was more physical hugs and just being there for her. Talking just isn’t Toni’s strong suit, unless she’s cussing someone out.

The truth is, though, she’s thought about this a lot.

She tells Shelby as much, and explains, “Growing up in the foster system, you always picture your dream home, you know? And mine has changed a lot over the years. In the beginning, I just wanted to be back with my mom. We grew up in a little apartment on the edge of the reservation. Two bedrooms, one bathroom. Small, but it was cozy.”

“That sounds nice,” Shelby hums.

“It was,” Toni agrees, but then emphasizes, “It was. Slowly, it fell apart. She stopped cleaning, so dirty dishes piled up. Stopped doing laundry, so I had to learn to use the washing machine, but then eventually we ran out of soap. Barely any food, water and heat turned off…” she trails off.

“Toni…” Shelby starts, but it falls flat.

“Anyway,” she continues, “that’s when I went into the system. But for so long, my dream home was that one, only I always pictured it the way it was in the beginning. My mom cooking me dinner, and teaching me what she was doing as she did it. Tucking me into bed, and making sure I had my stuffed basketball pillow.”

“Of course,” Shelby says, rolling her eyes.

Toni grins. “Baller since day one. And I’d sleep through the night, drifting off to the sound of her watching TV, and in the morning she’d shake me awake, and there would be breakfast when I went into the kitchen before school. That was my dream home. Just that, and her.”

“What happened?” Shelby asks, sounding almost too afraid to pose the question.

“I grew up,” Toni says, clenching her jaw at the way she feels her throat tightening. “I grew up, and I learned that dreams don’t come true. My mom wasn’t made to be a mother, she never was. And that’s not her fault, it’s just the way it is. That home wasn’t meant to be mine, it definitely wasn’t meant to be hers, and it was — is — never going to be ours.”

“That’s a lot to give up on,” Shelby whispers, pressing a soft kiss to her ear.

Toni closes her eyes and relaxes into Shelby’s lips. “Yeah. But as I got moved from home to home, and the wish changed. The first time I went to a really nice, stable home — and, I mean really nice, like food from Safeway, not Walmart or any of that, a fence without peeling paint, sheets that didn’t have holes in them, that became my new dream home.”

She must pause for too long, because Shelby prompts, “But?”

“But they moved to Florida, and —“ she sucks in a breath. “And they didn’t want to bring me with them.”

“Oh.”

“One time,” Toni says, a chuckle bubbling up, “I decided my dream home was, like, a full on mansion. An indoor pool and basketball court, twenty bedrooms, a giant yard, and one of those addresses with, like, six digits, you know?”

“So, a house that Fatin’s parents would sell?” Shelby teases.

Toni feels Shelby’s tighten around her as she laughs, and she nods. “Exactly. Like one of those houses.”

“Well, what changed your mind?” Shelby asks, and really, Toni has never been able to figure out what did change her mind, until now.

“It would be lonely,” she decides on. “Playing basketball in an indoor court in my home would be a great luxury, sure, but my community was built by hopping into pick-ups at the park with total strangers. So many bedrooms might be nice for guests, not that I have more than, like, three friends —“

“Seven now,” Shelby interjects, and Toni can feel her smile against the top of her head.

She snuggles further under her chin. “Yeah, so maybe I need six other bedrooms.” She pauses. “We’d share, obviously.”

“Presumptuous much?” Shelby scoffs.

“That’s not what you were saying —“

“Alright, finish your story,” Shelby says, cutting her off, but there’s a smile and a flush to her cheeks when their eyes meet again.

“Well, anyway, some of my favorite moments from my childhood, or even all the homes I’ve been in, is being able to feel the presence of other people,” Toni says. “My mom watching TV as I fall asleep, Martha breathing in the bed next to mine, the chatter of the older kids that had a later bedtime. You don’t get that in a big house.”

“No,” Shelby agrees, and it’s more melancholy than anything.

“I’ve had damn near every version of a dream home in mind,” Toni sighs. “An apartment in the middle of somewhere crazy like New York City, a quiet cottage off in the nature of New Zealand, a cabin in the woods of Washington, a beach house in California. If it exists, at one point I wanted it.”

“And now?” Shelby asks.

The words feel heavy and unnatural rolling off her tongue, but the beam of sunshine of a smile Shelby gives her when she says, “Now, it’s you,” is worth it a million times over. Quickly, before Shelby can say something that’s guaranteed to be painfully sappy, she adds, “And me. Us. That’s home.”

“I like the sound of that,” Shelby breathes, and when her fingers lift Toni’s chin up so they can meet in a kiss, Toni wonders when it became that she says the sappy things. Shelby is the first to pull away, eyes wild in the dim light of the fire, and her breath is hot in Toni’s mouth when she mumbles, “Tell me more.”

“We’ll move to New York City,” Toni says, until Shelby furrows her eyebrows. “California?” she tries again. Shelby smiles. “Right, so we’ll move to California, more up North so it isn’t as freakishly warm.”

“Beach house,” Shelby mumbles.

Toni turns to look at her slightly. “Yeah?”

“Santa Cruz,” she confirms.

Toni eyes the way the fire is dancing in her eyes with an almost amusement. “You’ve thought about this, then?”

“We all have reasons for dreaming about home,” Shelby shrugs. “And I like Santa Cruz.”

“I’ve never been,” Toni says.

“I’ll show you,” Shelby promises.

“Alright,” Toni continues, “so a beach house in Santa Cruz. Maybe a dog, so I can take him on runs.”

“There’s no way you run,” Shelby mutters.

Toni scoffs. “Excuse me?”

“Not with form like that,” Shelby argues.

“When did you become such an expert on running?” Toni huffs.

“Since I ran a half-marathon when I was fourteen, and then another every year since,” Shelby says, grinning. Toni practically growls. “It’s okay,” Shelby says, soothing her with a kiss to the temple. “We’ll get a dog, and we can all go on runs together.”

“And I’ve always wanted, like, a really cool looking house,” Toni muses. “You know those ones with a bright red door, or the kitchen is painted some crazy color like lime green? I want a house like that.”

“I could go for a bright red door,” Shelby says thoughtfully, “though could we make it yellow?”

“Anything that tells me I’m home as soon as I see it,” Toni says, and she can’t even believe she’s telling Shelby all this. “I want to walk in, and know that it must be my home because nobody else’s is like that. I want to walk in, and know that it’s a home I made for myself.”

“How would we decorate it?” Shelby asks.

“Just, like, a bunch of stuff from our friends,” Toni says, poking at the fire with a stick to keep it going. “You know, Martha would give us a woven tapestry or something to hang up in the living room. Fatin would buy is a seriously expensive couch.”

“And a TV to match, please,” Shelby says. She hums a bit, playing with a bit of hair that’s escaped Toni’s ponytail. “Dot would buy us a record player, and a bunch of stuff to listen to. And Nora all her favorite board games.”

“Rachel would help us move in,” Toni guesses. “Heavy-lifting and all that. Leah would…” she trails off.

“Punch us in the face?” Shelby offers.

Toni rolls her eyes. “No, she’d get us books, probably. Or, maybe a plant.”

“We should put a garden in the front,” Shelby says, shifting her weight slightly further back. “Yeah? Some flowers, a tree, and we’ll have a front porch, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Toni agrees. She shrugs. “So, anyway. That’s what I see for us. Eventually.”

And then the atmosphere drops, and suddenly the fire isn’t as warm as it was before, and Shelby’s arms aren’t as tight, and she exhales heavily. “I don’t know if I can wait for eventually.”

“I promise we will have it,” Toni murmurs. She kisses away Shelby’s doubt as best she can, and just whispers, “I promise,” again and again and again, hoping that Shelby starts to believe at least one of them.

[adiwriting]

Sunday Mornings 3/?

Notes: Thank you all for your continued love and support with this! As promised, here’s another Sunday update of our soft boys <3

Week 3: 

“Are you telling me that you really aren’t going to cook me breakfast?” Alex pouts. 

“No, I simply suggested that if we ordered Doordash and had them leave it on the porch, then I could use my telekinesis to bring the food to us and neither of us would have to leave the bed,” he explains, earning him a loud laugh from Alex. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Alex says to him. 

“I’m a genius,” Michael argues. 

“Or just really lazy,” he teases. 

“You don’t get it,” he says, trying to find some way to explain it. He reaches out to run his hands through the mess that is Alex’s hair. The man looks completely sexed out with his swollen lips and flushed skin and Michael can’t look at him and find the desire to leave anytime soon, no matter how hungry they both are. “You’re not getting the same view I’m getting.” 

Alex looks him up and down with ever darkening eyes and proceeds to lick his lower lip. “Oh, I don’t know, I think my view is practically perfect.” 

Michael runs his hands down Alex’s chest, careful to brush against his sensitive nipples, smiling at the way Alex’s breath hitches. 

“Do we really need food?” he asks, smiling at him in that way he knows always gets Alex going. 

Alex grabs onto Michael’s wrist to stop him before he can wrap his hands around the semi that Alex is sporting. 

“Let’s compromise,” Alex says. “You don’t need to cook, but can you at least go grab me a bowl of cereal or something?” 

As if on cue, Alex’s stomach growls loudly. Michael sighs and falls back into the pillows dramatically. He grumbles about it, but he’s not about to deny his boyfriend food when he so clearly wants it. 

Michael rolls out of bed, not bothering to put any clothes on. What would be the point? He’s planning on being naked, and keeping Alex naked, the rest of the day. Sundays are their only mutual day off and thus, it’s the one day of the week they are both allowed to enjoy each other the entire day. 

He reaches the kitchen and starts a pot of coffee as he moves to pull the milk out for the cereal. He pours Alex a bowl of the Honey Nut Cheerios he loves while he digs around the cabinet for the box of Pop Tarts he knows he brought over here before. It takes him a minute, but he does eventually find it hidden behind the healthy granola bars that Alex likes to eat on his way to work. 

“Isobel is texting you asking if you’re going to come over today?” Alex calls from the bedroom. 

Michael rolls his eyes. “Text back and remind her that it’s Sunday!” 

A few minutes later, Michael walks back into the bedroom with his arms full of various food and Alex’s bowl of cereal and two mugs of coffee floating beside him. 

“What’s this?” Alex asks, grabbing his cereal out of the air and setting it on the nightstand before reaching for their coffees. 

“Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and whatever snacks we need,” he explains. 

Alex’s eyes go wide before he starts laughing. 

“Damn,” he says, as Michael drops the food on the ground and crawls back into bed. “You clearly have a lot more confidence in my recovery time than I do.” 

Michael grins at him and his attempts to play coy. Michael knows better than anyone that Alex has a fairly endless libido and there’s certainly nothing wrong about his recovery time. Still, as hot as it is to think of having sex with Alex all day, he honestly hadn’t been planning that. He just wants to lay in bed with Alex today and not have to worry about leaving. And if they have some sex here and there, he’s not going to complain one bit. 

Michael accepts the coffee that Alex hands him once he’s settled and downs it pretty quickly before he opens up his package of Pop Tarts and lays his head down in Alex’s lap. 

“I know that I said I was craving one of your famous omelettes, but actually, this cereal is pretty good,” Alex says, leaning his head back against the headboard. 

Michael smiles up at him. “It has the added benefit of being quick. Omelettes take forever to make.” 

“Only because you insist on chopping your own veggies. You know they sell the pre-cut kind at the store,” he explains, drinking the last of the milk out of the bowl before setting it back on the nightstand. 

“That stuff’s super expensive,” he complains. 

He’ll never understand how you can take a pepper that’s worth a quarter and the simple act of chopping it and putting it in a container jacks the price up to $4. But then, Alex is the kind of guy who will pay for such a convenience while Michael doesn’t see the point. 

Most people assume that Michael is cheap because he’s poor. And while he’s not exactly rolling in dough, he does better than people seem to think, especially now that Sanders has left the business to him. It’s just that Michael is very particular about how he spends his money. He doesn’t see a point in paying for his booze at the Pony when he knows that eventually something is going to break and Maria will let him work off his tab with manual labor. He’s got a similar deal worked out with the Crashdown, where he’s in there fixing something at least once a week. He doesn’t see a reason to eat at fancy restaurants when he can cook food just as good at home for a quarter the price. It seems stupid to buy nicer patio furniture when somebody is always throwing something perfectly functional away at the junkyard that he can keep for free. And he would rather spend the money he does have on parts for his ship than on new clothes. 

Though, if he’s being honest with himself, his desire to work on his ship has become much more of a desire to see if it’s possible than one born out of a need to leave the planet. He hasn’t even been down to his bunker to tinker in over a week. After all, the home he’s spent his life looking for is materializing in front of him. And with each passing day where neither of them manage to screw this up, Michael is starting to believe this might actually be the forever home he’s been searching for his whole life. 

Alex’s hands make their way into his hair and start massaging his scalp in the way that always makes Michael feel like he’s turning to jello. 

“I don’t even need to have sex, just keep doing that and I’ll be happy,” he confesses, earning him a wide smile. 

“You’re like a cat, Guerin. You arch into every touch,” Alex teases him. 

“I like being touched by you,” he says with a shrug. “You’re not any better.” 

To prove his point, he reaches up to cup Alex’s cheek with his hand and Alex leans into the touch before kissing his palm. 

“Your sister is mad at me,” Alex explains. “After I texted her back on your phone, she texted me to complain that I was hogging all your free time.” 

“Isobel is fine,” Michael says with a roll of his eyes. “She’s just not used to me being in a relationship and having plans that don’t include her.” 

“But you were with Maria all last year,” he argues. 

It’s not that Michael forgot he dated Maria. He certainly remembers that fact well enough. It’s just that dating Maria and dating Alex were very different experiences for him. When he dated Maria, he honestly never made her his number one priority. He saw her regularly enough and she was a priority for him, but she was never the priority. And yeah, the longer he’s with Alex, the more he understands why Maria dumped him. Because with Alex, Alex is the priority. 

It’s different. He believes that he loved Maria, but it has nothing on his feelings for Alex. 

“That’s different,” is all he says. 

“Isobel is going to hate me if you don’t spend time with her,” Alex continues to argue. 

“She isn’t going to hate you, and I spend plenty of time with her,” he explains. “I just don’t spend Sundays with her.” 

“Fair enough,” Alex relents. 

Michael gets a sinking feeling that maybe Alex wanted him to go over to Isobel’s today. He sits up and looks Alex in the eyes looking for his response when he says, “Sundays are ours.” 

Alex smiles softly. “Of course they are.” 

“Did you want me to say yes to Isobel?” he asks, still trying to get a read on Alex. 

Alex reaches out, placing his arms around Michael’s shoulders and shakes his head. He then leans in to rest his forehead against Michael’s and takes a deep breath, causing Michael to chuckle. Alex is always smelling him. It’s kind of weird, but oddly sweet at the same time. 

“Okay then,” Michael says. 

“Okay,” Alex whispers. 

“Do you want to test that recovery time of yours?” he asks, earning him a big belly laugh. However, Alex is the one to roll them over so that Michael is on his back and Alex is laying on top of him, so Michael is pretty sure it’s answer enough. 

Tagged: @callieramics​

As always if anyone wants to be tagged, let me know!

[lennythereviewer]

A word from your local GrubHub/DoorDash/PostMates driver

I’m a Grubhub driver here, here’s a few things that will make both you the customer happier and me the driver happier 1. DO NOT ORDER DRINKS

Listen, if there is one thing we Grubhub/Postmates/DoorDash drivers hate the most its getting drink orders.It’s one more thing to juggle and this one is decidedly more fragile than the meal; they can spill (In a recent experience I had to deliver four sodas from KFC in the middle of a rainstorm, and the drink holder disintegrated) Trying balance 5 drink orders in a car with only two cupholders is not making any of our lives easier. Now if it’s like, a smoothie place where the whole POINT is the drinks; I get that. But if you can avoid it, please for the love of god don’t order drinks. Just drink something at home. Without drinks to balance we can get the food to you quicker.

2. Want your food faster? Tip us on the app

Don’t get me wrong; we LOVE cash tips! The thing is though that GH base pay is kinda shit. When you tip us on the app it adds to the total GH pay and that’s the total we see when the offer comes through on our end Example: You wanna order in some Taco Bell. You’re planning to pay us say a six dollar tip in cash. That’s awesome! But when we get the offer on our end it looks like “Make 4 dollars to deliver this persons tacos”; and a lot of GH drivers ignore very low paying offers; we’re paying for gas, we need to at least break even. Even though we drivers work for a big company we’re basically independent contractors and we can choose to not take an offer that comes out way... our companies love to punish us for being picky, but we have the right to refuse

Now, play this same scenario again but this time you tip us on the app, and to us that looks like “Make 10 dollars to deliver this persons tacos” Now THATS more like it! Your offer will be picked up extremely fast and therefore you get your food quicker! Side note: If you ARE going to tip us in cash, please specify this and let us know ahead of time in the notes section, like, where you would put instructions for the driver coming up to your place

3. Double Check the address of the place you’re ordering from

I work in an area that’s spread across four towns (Ormond Beach, Daytona Beach, Port Orange, and New Smyrna Beach specifically) and I can’t tell you how many times someone will order something unassuming like KFC but they’ll accidentally order it from a restaurant TWO TOWNS OVER when there’s already one in their town Sure, I may get paid more for the distance; but there’s kind of a point where you have to ask if it’s worth it or not. It’s more wear and tear on my car and it’s more time for you the customer has to wait to receive your food Make sure the place you’re ordering from is the correct address to save you money and time, and save us trouble

4. KEEP YOUR PHONE HANDY AND BE AVAILABLE

Sometimes we the driver need to reach you (Gate we can’t get past, apartment building we can’t find, 30-50 feral hogs have surrounded our car...) and if we can’t get ahold of you that’s more problems for both of us.  If you don’t answer the door and you’re unreachable after multiple attempts, we’re stuck holding the bag. We gotta call up our driver support system, and if THEY can’t get ahold of you themselves, then they tell us “Screw it, keep the food, go to your next delivery”

NEITHER of us wants that: You don’t get your food, and we’re stuck with extra shit in our car while we have to go deliver more food. The idea of free food is killer for sure, but it’s one more thing we have to deal with/dispose of, and calling up the driver support system is a hassle in and of itself, ask ANY driver.  Like, sure, I may have gotten free food from someone elses neglect; but what am I going to do with a family-sized KFC meal that there’s no way I can possibly eat on my own, and there’s no one homeless around to give it too? I can’t just throw out perfectly good food and you see what I mean? Be available and have your phone nearby! Your dinner may depend on it

Keep all of this in mind when ordering your meal and things will be much smoother for you, I promise

[onemansbaddatinglife]

November 29th 2020 - Twist and Turns of life

So starting this story out, I’ve been seeing “Christian Girl” for awhile. On and off. After a few months of seeing each other she admitted to falling in love with me. However she didn’t want to ‘be with me’. Which hurt but I stuck around hoping she’d change her mind.  A few weeks ago while prodding her to understand why she would say she’s in love with me but wouldn’t be with me, she explained that she doesn’t feel like I’d make a good father. A bit of background, my father passed away when I was 6, and I’ve spent most of my life dreaming of being a father one day. Maybe it sounds stupid, but I desperately want to be the father to my kids that my dad wasn’t given the chance to be. Don’t get me wrong, he was an amazing dad, but he was taken too early on and didn’t get to watch us grow up. So that’s always sort of been my goal. Anyways. I last saw Christian girl, who my friend group now refers to as “Simba” (Read August 2nd) on November 24th. She came to my house after everyone left for work and while I was working from home. We spent a few hours snuggling, kissing, and whatever else ended up happening. On Wednesday she sent me a text “Missu” and sent me a selfie of her in bed. Something seemed off though. So I sent her a text saying good morning and trying to talk to her. No reply. As the day went on I’d send a few more text, but never receiving replies. On Friday, November 27th, I called her phone at like 5am. Usually she woke up early for work and would text me so I figured she’d be awake. She answered and acted weird. I asked why she had ghosted me and she danced around the question for awhile. After an hour of talking she admitted that the next day she started talking to her exboyfriend from college’s best friend that tried getting with her after she had split with her ex. (This would’ve been like, 10ish years ago). She said she “doesn’t like talking to multiple people at a time and felt like he’d be better for her” or some bullshit. I spent the next day or so extremely depressed because I foolishly thought she was going to get over the drama and finally officially be with me. My mistake. So Saturday night comes around. Another girl I had matched with and casually texted with told me she had just gotten home from Ohio (drove) and had some edibles for me. She said if I’d like, I can come over and get them and stay the night with her.  Since I’m heartbroken and wanting to get over Simba, I agreed. I drove an hour out to Denton, Texas and went to her apartment. She sat across the room from me for a few minutes which was odd, then got a call from her sister asking her to pick up her (sisters) kids from their dad because she (the sister) was still at work. The girl asked me if I wanted to come, and then said “errr wait you probably shouldn’t. I don’t want my sister to find out I’m talking to someone and tell my family and make things weird.” Then asked if I’d stay at her apartment until she returned. I figured since I just drove an hour in a wild ass storm (if you’re from Texas, you know how crazy our ‘storms’ get) that, yeah fuck it. So I laid on her bed and scrolled through my phone and waited for her to return. After half an hour the girl texted me again that her sister needed her to babysit the kids and that she’d be gone awhile and asked if we could just reschedule. I was pissed that I drove all that way to basically get ditched and told to leave. So I told her don’t worry about rescheduling, we can text and see where things go from there. Then proceeded to drive an hour home. Once I got home, another girl I had been casually texting said that she was free tonight and wanted to see me. I was iffy at first because I had just dealt with one girl I really like ghosting me, and another girl I was trying to see inviting me over then bailing and texting me to leave. But I said whatever fuck it and went. So now I’m driving another hour, in the same big ass storm, to the opposite side of Dallas, Texas to a city called “Terrell”. I go to a Holiday inn, check in and get a room, and go upstairs. The girl comes in and she’s a bit awkward, but its whatever. We snuggle for a bit, then she goes into the restroom to shower and ‘freshen up’. While she’s in the shower, I order some Applebees because the restaurant was so close you could see it out of our window. When she comes out of the bathroom, we snuggle for a bit more and wait for my order.. After over an hour of waiting, we decide to say fuck it and start making out. We eventually fuck and after, I check my food status because I was like “where the fuck is my food?” Doordash finally tells me “yeah we can’t find anyone to deliver. Do you want a refund or we can give you $36 “Doordash credit”. (The food I had ordered was like, $41). So I’m annoyed and ask for the refund which apparently takes 5-7 business days. Annoyed, I ask the girl if she’d like anything from Whataburger or if she’d like to come with and she declined. She said she was exhausted and wanted to sleep. I put my clothes and shoes on and walk out. As I walk down the hallway, I notice another girl, looked to be about 16, sitting outside of her door with her head in her arms. Something felt a bit off so as I approached (headed for the elevator), I asked if she was okay. She looked up and smiled and said “yeah I’m just fighting with some friends.” I noticed she had some tear spots on her dark red shirt. So I said “Okay.” and kept walking. I pressed the elevator button around the corner and waited. As I waited, I couldn’t help but to feel bad for the poor girl. So I leaned around the corner and said “Hey, I’m gonna go get food.. did you want anything?..” at which point her face lit up and she said she’d appreciate that as she hasn’t eaten. I walked over an exchanged numbers with her so she could text me what she wanted. I texted her a little bit on my way to Whataburger, and found out she was from a neighboring town, and we made small talk. When I got back to the hotel I walked up to her and handed her a drink and a bag of food she had requested. She thanked me and I made sure to let her know that if she needed anything, she could text me. I proceeded back to my room, and ate. I couldn’t get her out of my head, so I sent her another text and asked if she had been kicked out of the room. She replied she had. I offered to rent her a room for the night. However she said that her friends came out after I went into my room (I guess because they heard me talking to her) and let her back in. I told her that regardless, if she needed anything, text me asap and I’ll help out.  She never texted me. --- Despite the shit week I had, and the fucked up way the night had started out, I feel good about what happened. If Simba hadn’t ghosted me, again, and if the other chick hadn’t changed her mind and asked me to leave, I wouldn’t have met up with this other chick, in another city, and wouldn’t had been there for the girl crying in the hotel hall. And even though I didn’t do anything insane for the girl, the fact I was willing to stop and check on someone and buy them food, despite them being a stranger, sits warmly in my heart. We live in an age where so many people would’ve seen a crying chick and walked by thinking “That’s not my business”, or would’ve asked if she was okay, but would’ve accepted “yes I’m fine” as a valid response. Even though we all know that “yes I’m fine” is a reflex response because we’ve learned over years that sometimes it doesn’t matter how you feel, no one cares. But I promise you sometimes people do care, and not doing anything to help will eat away at them. I didn’t do anything spectacular for the girl. In fact, I’m aware I was at the hotel sort of being a douchebag by seeing multiple chicks in one night after being ghosted by another chick I was seeing. Regardless, I saw someone that needed a friend and I wanted to make sure I could help in whatever manner the girl felt comfortable accepting help. Give your heart but keep your head.