#oysters miss i will never forget you….

[fricklefracklefloof]

if anyone has any old recordings of the wylan chapters of crooked kingdom audiobook (like the one that used to be on youtube before it got taken down) i will pay you. i will literally pay you. i will do literally anything to hear that awful va’s interpretations of the characters of the way he read wylan’s lines of HIS KAZ INTERPRETATION please please please please please please i just need to hear smokes-six-packs-of-cigarettes-a-day kaz brekker again it would make my day so much better

[samkerrworshipper]

the lawn is dead

it’s suicide awareness month and i want to emphasise the importance of reaching out. you are loved. there are options. you will be missed. suicide is a permanent solution to temporary problems. you can get better. you are not a lost cause. talk to somebody.

warnings: reader discretion advised. heavy suicide, self harm, depression themes

There was an overall assumption that all children were born innocent.

Not you.

You swore that when you were born, a coin was flipped, and it landed on the complete wrong side.

Sometimes you felt like your brain and body were disconnected, that everything inside of you worked separately, like you were a sewed together body on the inside, a internal frankenstein.

It was tough feeling like you didn’t belong in your own boyd, but it was even harder when you knew that you were an imposter inside.

It was ironic, that you had imposter syndrome, and yet there was nothing wrong with your life.

There had been.

Had. No longer. Past tense.

You’re supposed to be happy, you suppose. You have the world at your feet, you have the life everybody wants, the world is your oyster.

It doesn’t matter how many times you rotate those thoughts through your split up brain, it never sinks in, because there is a deeply onset belief inside of you that can’t deny the dishonesty behind the words.

You should be happy, you should be utilising the gifts you’ve been given, you should be appreciating the life you have, and yet all of it just feels like a big ball of tangled up yarn, a clump of knots and mess that makes no sense.

You’re not allowed to feel numb, so you try and pinpoint what it is that you are feeling.

Are is too hard, so you start with aren’t.

You aren’t mad, you aren’t sad or it doesn’t feel like normal sadness, you’re definitely not happy, not scared, are not anxious, it feels like nothingness.

Yet nothingness doesn’t feel so all consuming, nothingness is lying in bed down in bed and doomscrolling until somehow 8 hours have passed and you’ve wasted a whole day and don’t find yourself caring. Nothingness is sitting down in the shower and covering your ears with your hands and finding solace in the intense rain noises. Nothingness is driving until you forget where you were supposed to be going and have autopiloted your way to the opposite side of town somehow. Nothingness is being so obsolete of your own body that everything is a fog, nothing makes sense, you’re devoid of all emotions and all the discombobulated sections of your body.

If anything, this is everythingness, this is all the feelings in the world beating down across your skin. You’re itching with agitation, itching with everything in your life and yet none of it penetrates the surface beyond the rotor of thoughts that continue to circulate like the blood in your veins.

It’s like your sitting inside a plastic bubble, and every variable is crashing down against the plastic. It’s all there, it’s crashing down, but it doesn’t touch you, it doesn’t penetrate, there is just a constant reminder that it’s all there. If you try to break out of the bubble you’re forced to face it, but you feel like you’re suffocating and the bubble is slowly depriving you of oxygen.

A part of you wouldn’t mind for it to suck the life out of you.

Sometimes it’s inevitable, letting the thoughts in your brain win, or syncing the truth out so much that it all distorts into a messy mixture of non-emotions that are more hurtful then helpful.

You’re in a weird funk, that’s hwat you keep telling yourself. With injuries and off-season and change of seasons. You tell yourself that it’s unescapable, that there aren’t any ways to escape the deadly habit that is you’re self-inflicted brain rotting and slowly decomposing.

There are outlets, there are options, but in it;s current state you’re brain denounces them all.

Occasionally, you’re brain falls into the same death trap that it was conditioned into as a child. Survival was solely your own responsisbility, there was no leaning, no relying, just yourself and your own strategies that occasionally kept you functioning.

Most of the time you were fine, most of the time you were able to isolate the darkest, disconnected fragments of your body but not all the time.

Sometimes you don’t though.

Every so often, you suffocate yourself, intentionally or unintentionally isn’t always clear, sometimes you’re so lacking on oxygen and everything that makes survival a possibility that you just stop. Those times, when you stop, when you fall, when you plummet. It’s when you drop into the death pit of unthinkable thoughts.

It’s when you get to the part of your brain that you wish had never been stitched up with all the others.

You try and avoid it, if you work hard on a normal day then you can normally disconnect it from the functioning parts that you rely on, but occasionally, when you’re left to fend for yourself that one part that’s normally off, lights up like a christmas tree.

It flashes bright red, like a alarm in the deepest parts of your brain, and it won’t stop flashing until you do something about it.

You’ve got coping mechanisms that you’ve developed over the years, running, football, eating, cooking, reading, sleeping, sex. None of it has even begun to strike the surface, normally your best bet was sleeping it off, depression, or depressive thoughts always seemed to fade with sunlight, it was the moments in the dark when everything suddenly felt… heavier.

You hadn’t been able to sleep since you’d gotten injured, everything was harder when you had so much weight on your back. Weight to recover, weight to get stronger, weight to be the same on the pitch.

It was a minor injury, some grief with your ankle ligaments that weren’t actually injured but also weren’t fixed, it was annoying, and everyday was a drag.

A drag of back and forth recovery and rest that had your mind buzzing from the inside.

It was no secret that you didn’t handle injuries well, you craved the physicality of being a professional athlete, your brain needed the stimulation that it involved. Without it, you struggled, it was clear to everybody around you that you couldn’t function sitting on the sidelines, it had inevitably made you crazy.

You were walking on eggshells, your friends had tried to point it out to you and you’d ignored it up until now.

It was impossible to ignore it at this stage though.

It was all you could think about, the constant pain, the overwhelming brain fuzz, the weight of it all.

Over and over and over and over and over again.

Your hands are shaking, your breaths are staggered, your skin is prickly, your throat is dry, your body is cold and there is a deep set pain in the centre of your stomach that no matter how many times you try and shift it away nothing works.

You’re too deep.

Your whole life, it had always been your biggest wish that the part of you that was broken and threaded together would fix itself, medication made it manageable, therapy made it calmer, but sometimes in life it was impossible to contain the uncontainable. Life was unpredictable, and yet your circumstances were on trend with how your life had been recently.

You should have seen this coming, but a part of you thinks that you did and you’d been content with letting all of these thoughts infiltrate deep in your mind.

Sometimes you look at yourself in the mirror, and you can’t even notice it, it’s like all of the pain and trauma will fall so far from the surface on occasion that you’re foolish enough to believe that maybe it’s all finally gone.

Not now, not at all.

But a part of you wants to make it all gone.

It’s all you can think about, you know how easy it would be, you have it all planned out.

The letters are written, the plan has been made for years, it’s your execution that is lacking.

You aren’t scared, you are more than happy for a big blac cloud of nothingness to come and take you from your life, it would make it all so much easier.

You just need to know that you’ll succeed.

Failure is not an option, in ever single part of your life it hasn’t ever been. But specifically with your life.

If you’re out, you’re out, end of sentence.

There isn’t any recovery, there isn’t any coming back, no psych holds, no hospitals, no treatment, just death. It’s an answer, it’s conclusive. Right now it would solve all of your problems, literally, you could count on every single finger and toe how it would solve the fucked-up puzzle of your life. Normally, there is always something holding you back though. Football had been the main excuse for most times, the headlines would be miserable and all of the fuss and fake-sentiment would be so much worse. Once it had been because you were in love, and that was the best reason. But, like most thing you were unable to keep it alive, and so it died out.

It was all a metaphor for your life, football had been good, until it all slowly self-detonated, love had been good but you were a ticking time bomb of sabotage.

It would be oh so easy.

You knew the tips and tricks, you’d been thinking about it for years. Four long vertical lines, deep enough to need stitches but not deep enough that it would all fade immediately. You wanted to feel the pain, you wanted it all to be a big black and red painful mess, your vision swimming and body giving up because of the pain, not because of the damage you’d done.

It sounded so perfect.

It would be oh so easy, nobody would even notice, it would probably be days before anybody even realised you were gone. You would fade from earth and life like nothing, and nobody would care, and you were happy for it to be that way. You were happy to just disappear, you wanted it all to end.

It’s all hitting that hard, you don’t want help, you don’t want to feel normal, you don’t want treatment, you don’t want meds, you just want to be gone. You normally experience life with so many emotions, too many, but right now, in the bubble of your depression, the only think you feel is a desire to vanish.

There isn’t any hesitation, nothing holding you back as you pick up your poison of choice. It’s always been the same since you were a teenager, you’ve known how you’d go out from the minute it had gone downhill from the very first time. That had been a long time ago now, but not much had changed. Sure, maybe your face had matured a bit, you’re body had changed with being a professional athlete, and you weren’t as self destructive but really when it all boiled down nothing had truly changed.

You were the same broken, lost and alone girl that you had always been.

The same girl hiding in the corner of her bathroom in a pair of sweats that made her body seem so much smaller then it was, a razor blade in one shaky hand and the other hand busy forcing the sleeve of her hoodie up, leaving a easily accessible patch of skin.

It was the same old routine, except this time with a different intention.

You had your scars, you had your invisible marks that nobody could see but you. You were as good at hiding them as you were at your depleting mental health. Over the years you’d learnt how to hurt yourself without leaving permanent marks, you’d learnt how to hide it all from the people closest to you.

Until Alexia.

Love made a person dumb, and being in love with Alexia made you happier then you’d ever experienced and from the moment fireworks had gone off between the two of you, your barriers had fallen down. It had been good, until it hadn’t. Once again, you were left all alone, due to your own self-destructive habits. You couldn’t let yourself be happy, you didn’t know what long term happiness looked like for you and it was terrifying.

It had all been downhill from there, if there was no happiness in the future for you then what was the point? Your life was blowing up, football was the only thing you’d ever lived for and you still had football but football wasn’t for ever, if there was nothing beyond that then what was the point. You didn’t have a education, and whilst you earnt a decent amount off of football, it wasn’t enough to live off of, and now you had nobody else to live for.

Your life, from your perspective, had become pointless.

Whilst you were certain that your behaviour and gone unnoticed, that was far from the truth.

Most of your teammates had picked up on your particularly low mood. You weren’t ever the happiest person in the locker room, one of the more lowkey people who always allowed yourself to fade into the shadows. But that didn’t mean that people didn’t notice you, especially the people who had come to care for you.

You were injured, and that had come to be the main justification for your particularly down moods, but there was also a sneaking suspicion across some of your teammates that something more was wrong, that there was some other kind of cause for the way you dragged yourself around the gym and rooms during your days spent doing rehab.

You looked lifeless, like everything human about you had been drained.

Alexia knew it was something more, in her time with you, she’d learnt about your struggles and just when she thought that you’d started to open up to her, you’d cut it all off. So whilst she didn’t know the extensive history, she knew you had your demons, and that whatever was haunting you this time around wasn’t going to dissapear anytime soon.

Alexia could say that she didn’t care about you anymore, but it would make her a liar.

She’d always hoped that the two of you would make your way back to eachother, that you’re insistence that the two of you weren’t meant to be was overshadowed by the doubt you’d always about the relationship would somehow flip and you’d realise no matter how many issues you had Alexia was prepared to love you through all of them.

But as the time passed from the breakup, you only distanced yourself more. The person that Alexia had tried to bring out shrunk right back into it’s shell. Everyone on the team had been elated to see you find your footing with Alexia, it was the first time in your years at Barca that everyone started to meet you as a person and not just as a footballer. Alexia thought it had meant things were looking up for you, but all good things came to an end.

You’d been appearing like you’d slowly been slipping further down a slope, the bags underneath your eyes getting bigger, your sluggish behaviour getting worse, your determination to do you rehab dwindling and your willingness to interact with any person at the club being completely non-existent.

You were anti-social at the best of times, but completely diverting from all interactions was new for you and Alexia hadn’t been the only one to notice, it was evident to anybody with a brain that something was wrong, Alexia had no idea though just how wrong it all was.

The coincidence of an away Madrid game during the time that it was clear you were tanking was something that Alexia was particularly annoyed by. There was no plausible excuse for her to stay back from the trip, she was the captain, and she was perfectly fit to play. Plus, she had no obligation to you, you’d washed your hands of Alexia months ago and whilst Alexia still felt lingering concern for you she couldn’t justify staying back for what could potentially be nothing.

That didn’t mean though that she was going to just leave you be, not when she was so certain that there was something truly wrong.

Alexia wasn’t exactly sure of the severity of your trauma. She knew that your relationship with your parents was frayed to say the least, that you didn’t talk to them at all anymore and every time Alexia had tried to ask about them she had been met with a cold shoulder. So after a few tries she’d stopped trying, she didn’t know what it was like to have a disconnected family, she couldn’t relate or empathise with your issues and it killed her.

She knew you took medications, she had no idea what, you kept your daily medication closely guarded, but she knew it had something to do with your mental health. She didn’t ask about it, Alexia had been through your shut downs with you, and she knew broaching the subject of your mental health could be so detrimental to your mindset. She let you show her as much as you wanted to, she ignored the scars on your body, ignored the way that she recognised the complete disregard you had for your body. It was clear in every single aspect of your life that you had a little bit less concern then everybody else did. You put your body on the line in football, in ways that made Alexia furious. You didn’t flinch away from pain, if anything you stepped into the line of fire.

You hid injuries, you hid sickness, you pushed through it all. It was terrifying for Alexia as a partner to watch you continuously put yourself on the line and act like it was completely nothing. By the end of your relationship it was getting hard to watch it happen.

Your ankle injury was a result of that, you hadn’t even been the one ton sideline yourself. It had fallen down to Irene catching a glimpse of your purple and black swelled up ankle after a training session and her marching you to the team physio to get it checked out. It wasn’t shocking to Alexia, but it did make her wonder how many time you’d chosen to hide your pain in favour of putting up a brave face and pushing through, in all aspects of your life.

Alexia was worried and yet she felt as though she had no right to be.

She’d let you push her away, knowing that in some way or another it could be hurting not just her but you, realisatically she couldn’t do anything about it. If you didn’t want to be in a relationship with her she couldn’t force you, but a part of her thought she might have let go a little to easy.

For her, you would be the one that got away.

She wasn’t ready to let you get away yet though.

Really, if she thought about it, it was Mapi who had highlighted that you weren’t okay, and that maybe it was time for somebody to reach out to you. Mapi had come to care a lot about you, she’d seen how broken both you and Alexia were after the split, Alexia was still functioning though, you seemed like you were losing energy for life as everyday passed.

Mapi had been the one to suggest that she’d check on you whilst everyone else was gone, Mapi being stuck behind with some minor twinges in her knee, it was more precautionary than anything that she took the weekend off. She was more then happy though to be a good friend and spend some extra time with you if it meant getting to the bottom of whatever had been going on.

Her intentions had been to bring around a fresh meal, her mama’s old tapa recipe that always managed to light up Ingrid’s face. If her tapas earned her a way into your apartment then she was hoping to sit down with you, maybe have a chat, watch whatever football watch was on. Something, she wanted some kind of proof that you were okay, that even though you were going through a rough time that you manage, that at some point you would come out of this funk and you would go back to the old version of yourself. Maybe better, maybe you would unearth some kind of happiness from you situation and you would be better off because of it.

Mapi knew the odds of all of that were drastically low, but she was also the optimist of everything, it was the reason that she was so good at making uncomfortable people feel more settled in the team. She knocked on your front door with a extra bit of pep in her, hope that somehow she was going to resolve all of the underlying issues that everyone had been expressing for weeks now but had been too afraid to unearth. Mapi was certain that her approach might actually help, that instead of being the authoritative figure that Alexia, Irene, Marta and Patri were as your captains. Mapi was here as a friend, nothing more and nothing less and she hoped that would maybe encourage you to open up to her.

Mapi waited at least a minute after her initial knock before knocking again.

Your car had been beside Mapi’s when she’d parked downstairs, so she knew you were home. It wasn’t late, but it also wasn’t early enough that Mapi could rule out the possibility of you being asleep. Alexia had shoved her old key to your apartment into Mapi’s hand before she’d left, there weren’t any instructions, but the pure desperation in Alexia’s eyes was making Mapi feel compelled to use it.

Her third knock on the door was met with more silence.

You were probably sleeping.

There were parts of Mapi crawling with the emerging feeling of anxiety, she just needed to see you. You’d skipped your gym session today, something that was extremely abnormal for you, it had been worrying enough for Mapi, but you not responding to her now was sending her into a full on spiral.

“It’s Mapi, if you could open up for me please chica, I have some food for you.”

Mapi doesn’t even hear furniture creak.

She repeats what she said again, and is met with complete silence.

“Chica, are you in there? Are you awake? Just answer me, you don’t have to open the door.”

Mapi, if she looks really hard, can make out the faintest glow underneath your door, maybe a lamp?

Mapi waits a few more seconds, and sprinkles in some aggressive knocks. She’s met with nothing in response.

She digs around desperately in her pocket for the key, her fingers eventually coming into contact with the weight of the key in the back pocket of her jeans.

She pulls it up to the door knob with regret coursing through her veins, she doesn’t feel good about invading your privacy, but she feels even worse about everything else, and it’s all enough to overshadow her concern for your feelings about being left alone. After all, you might just be asleep.

The key makes a click after Mapi turns it counterclockwise twice, Mapi reaches for the door knob, it’s the final barrier between her and you, and without much hesitation she pushes the knob down and it opens.

Mapi shivers with the frigid breeze that comes at her as she steps into your apartment.

As soon as her foot hits your wooden floor she can tell something is off, she doesn’t know what but she can just feel it.

Mapi walks into your apartment slowly, with a quick scan of your kitchen and living space she is certain the room is empty. She leaves her dish of tapas on the couter of your kitchen and surveys the room before hesitantly making her way into your hallway. The door to your guest room is open, so naturally Mapi looks in there first.

“Chica, I came in to drop off some food, are you home?”

Mapi, whilst she can’t physically see you anywhere, has a weird kind of sense that you are here, she’s just not sure where.

The guest room is completely empty, in fact, mapi is sure that there is dust lying on top of the spare sheets. She can’t remember the last time you mentioned having somebody stay, at the very start of your signing to Barca, occasionally girls from your National team would come and visit during breaks. Mapi remembers that time, she wouldn’t have said you were happy, but you seemed a bit more content. It was best Mapi had seen you before Alexia.

Mapi is fairly familiar with your apartment, between game nights, post game drinks and double dates she’d spent enough time in your apartment to know where everything was.

Your main bathroom was empty, leaving your bedroom and ensuite.

Mapi felt like she’d invaded enough of your privacy, your bedroom might be the over step.

But there was the clawing feeling, the same feeling that she’d gotten when she’d walked into the apartment that something was wrong, and she wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight without getting to the bottom of it.

So with much apprehension, Mapi walks the rest of the way down the hallway and to the door of your bedroom.

Mapi swears that she has sweat through her shirt, even though your apartment feels colder than the Norwegian winter she’d recently experienced.

Her hands are all sweaty, the same they get before any match, she doesn’t know where her nerves are coming from, she doesn’t have anything to worry about, yet.

Mapi knocks as quietly on your bedroom door as possible, she’s made her mind up that if you are sleeping she’ll leave a note with her tapas and take her leave, she doesn’t need to disturb you.

“Chica, I came here to drop some food off, just make a noise and I’ll leave you.”

Mapi waits for what feels like eternity, and after a long stretch of silence she takes the leap.

She opens the door as quietly as possible, and feels defeated when she spots your complete empty bed.

Everything looks normal, in a weird kind of way. Your sheets are made up, almost pedantically. All the corners tucked in and pillows positioned like they would be in a catalogue.

The only light in the room is the light that is filtering in from your ensuite, underneath the door. It’s bright enough that Mapi can see around the room.

She wants to leave. But she can’t, not without checking.

There is a off chance that you’ve gone on a walk, an activity that definitely was not approved by your physios but she supposed you’d never really obeyed them in the first place.

It’s one last room, your apartment seems so devoid of life that Mapi is confident that it’ll be empty.

She tiptoes across your bedroom, everything about this feels so wrong, like she’s invading somebody’s life that she doesn’t even know anything about.

Mapi knocks on your bathroom door.

“Chica, if you’re in there, just let me know and I’ll leave you be.”

Silence. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even a squeak.

Mapi’s hand is so sweaty that it nearly slips off of the handle on the door, she doesn’t know why she’s nervous, she doesn’t have any reason to be nervous. Yet it also feels like there are a millon under lying reasons.

Mapi plucks up the courage, because she has to, and twists the knob.

Away games are always a weird mixture of relaxing but also having absolutely no time to yourself.

Alexia’s least favourite part about away games is team bonding. Following the first team dinner of every away trip it’s customary to do some kind of team bonding exercise. She understands that it’s important, but after a long train trip to Madrid the last thing she wants is to spend hours trying to get out of an escape room with no phone and all of the younger girls talking her ear off. What Alexia wants is to get back to the hotel and sleep. Yet she’s stuck in a confined space with girls that she loves but wants nothing more to get away from.

Caro and Keira seem to be in the same mindset as her, the three of them all keeping as far away from the ruckus as possible. After two hours of the madness, Vicky of all people manages to get to the bottom of the puzzle and somehow unlocks the door, Alexia isn’t sure of the logistics of it and she doesn’t really care.

The girls all celebrate as the file out, but there is an overall feeling that everybody is ready to head back to the hotel and go to sleep.

Phones are handed back and Alexia almost pockets hers, to tired to look at whatever messages or instagram notifications she has. But it’s the sea of missed calls that catch her attention.

Alexia’s heart drops.

She’s got dozens of missed calls from Mapi and she knows from the minute she sees her call log that something is wrong.

All Mapi can remember is the amount of blood.

It was so red against your white bathroom tiles.

So much blood. Mapi was certain that there wasn’t that much blood in the human body, and yet it just kept leaking out, even as she pressed your towels to your arm, it kept leaking through.

She vaguely remembers going through her very basic medical training. Checking your pulse, it took a while for her to find it but eventually she does. She doesn’t know if it weak or it’s just her shaking hands that can’t pin your pulse down.

She uses a leftover hair tie on her wrist as a tourniquet, she doesn’t think it’s working but she has nothing else.

Compression.

She vaguely remembers her call with the emergency services, struggling to find words but forcing them out of her mouth because she had to.

The lady on the other side of the phone talks her through it, tells Mapi that she’s doing the right things, she walks Mapi through what to do if you stop breathing. Mapi thinks you are, your chest lifts every so slightly every few seconds, but it’s so subtle Mapi swears she might be imagining it.

The lady tells Mapi that eventually your blood should clot, but Mapi finds it hard to believe. Her hands and shirt are covered in blood, your blood, it’s everywhere, red and thick and it’s overwhelming Mapi. Your bathroom looks like a crime scene, a murder scene, and Mapi supposes it almost is.

When the paramedics show up, Mapi doesn’t know what to do, they’re so methodical. One of them talks to Mapi whilst their partner attends to you, Mapi’s hands are shaking, her hands, covered in your blood. She should have taken that extra medical course that they’d offered all the players at the start of the season, maybe it would have prepared her better. Nothing prepares a person for what Mapi just did though, no amount of medical training or training courses could ever prepare a person for what Mapi just saw.

The paramedic assures Mapi that she did everything right, that you wouldn’t be alive without her, and those words make it all worse. Dead. You could have been dead. The paramedic offers to take Mapi to the hospital with you, but she declines, she needs a minute, she needs to have a second to think about herself. The paramedic tells Mapi the name of the hospital they’ll be taking you and takes her name and number to give to the nurses as your contact.

They whisk you off right in front of Mapi’s eyes.

Your body is white, you look so lifeless.

Once you’re gone, Mapi closes the door to your bathroom, she can’t look in there, not at the raw amount of evidence that you’ve left behind. It’s already all over her body, she doesn’t need to see anymore of it.

She sits down on your tight sheets, and she realises that there is a piece of paper sitting at the edge of your bed, a letter.

Mapi cries when she sees it, she lets it all out.

It’s addressed to Alexia and Mapi doesn’t need to read it to know what it’s intention was, what your intentions were, if it wasn’t already confirmed then this only assures it.

Mapi leaves red finger prints on it, picking it up and collecting some of your clothes from your wardrobe before leaving your apartment.

Alexia clicks on Mapi’s contact with so much fear coursing through her body, she’s praying that it’s not here mami, not when Alexia is away.

“Ale-Alexia, thank god you picked up, gracias a dios.”

Mapi’s voice is quivering, Alexia’s not sure if she’s ever heard her voice like that before.

“Maria, what’s wrong? Why did you call so many times?”

There is a sob on the other end of the line, and Alexia starts to pray, to any god that whatever Mapi is about to tell her isn’t going to be bad, she can’t handle bad news right now.

“She was supposed to be sleeping, I was so sure she was sleeping. There was so much blood, I thought, I didn’t think there was enough blood in a person’s veins but there was so much of it, it just kept leaking out of her.”

Alexia’s heart and stomach are at her feet, she clutches for a wall, a solid form that she can rely on so that she doesn’t collapse.

“Who, Maria, who? What are you talking about, where are you?”

There is another sob, a deep sob, like Mapi’s being tortured.

“Y/n, I went to visist her like you’d asked, an-and she was, I thought she was dead.”

Alexia heart feels like it’s on a rollercoaster, like it’s returned to a normal level for a second, before plummeting even deeper.

“What do you mean Maria, what are you talking about.”

Somebody in the group must have realised Alexia’s discomposure, because she can feel a group of eyes on her, like everybody is trying to figure out what is happening on the other end of the phone.

“She left a letter, she-she I thought she was dead Ale, why would somebody do that to themselves? Why would she want to do that to herself.”

Alexia is aware that Mapi is clearly in some kind of post-traumatic state, that it’s going to be hard to get to the bottom of this but she’s managed to string the details together. From what Mapi’s said, you’re still alive, but it can’t be good, not by how Mapi has made it sound.

“Maria, I need you to listen to me. Where are you? Where is she? What is wrong with her.”

Alexia can hear Mapi trying to take some deep breaths on the other side of the line, somewhere in the crowd Ingrid is pushed forward, looking at Alexia with so much confusion. Mapi doesn’t often have anxiety or panic attacks, but if she were, Ingrid is certain that she would be the first person for Mapi to call, yet she’s received none.

“I-I’m at the hospital with her, she’s been moved to the ICU, I haven’t seen her yet but the nurses told me they had to perform CPR in the ambulance and that she was rushed to surgery when she got here. She’s been stable since but she’s in critical condition.”

Alexia doesn’t know what to do, she wants to be with you.

“Maria, I’m going to hand you off to Ingrid okay, talk to her, let her calm you down. I’m going to talk to the staff and try and figure out a way for me to come home, talk to Ingrid, okay?”

Ingrid looks confused but takes the phone from Alexia regardless, allowing Alexia to walk towards the staff, her face sullen and body hurting from the pressure of all of this.

Mapi thinks you look worse, somehow.

All of the wires and cords and the bags and needles make your body look wrong. Nobody should need so many weird connections, yet considering the state you were in Mapi is oddly comforted by it all, she wants you to be getting as much help as your body needs.

She still got your blood on her, one of the nice nurses had helped her to wash it off her hands and arms, and Mapi had stolen one of your sweatshirts she’d haphazardly grabbed as a replacement for her shirt, but she can still feel it on her body.

She’s been sitting in the same chair since the nurses let her in to your room, it’s next to the window, so when Mapi feels compelled to cry, or can’t handle looking at your body any longer because it gives her a flashback, she looks out the window at the bustling city of Barcelona below her and it oddly comforts her. Life goes on, everyone elses life goes on, but yours almost didn’t.

Her mind goes to dark places thinking about the what if she hadn’t of come to check on you? Mapi knows the answer to that question, even a few minutes later and your body would have been even more lifeless then when Mapi found it, except maybe instead of most of life being drained from you, all of it would have been.

They still don’t know for sure what it’s going to look like when you wake up, Mapi was hardly paying attention when the doctors came to talk to her, they were speaking so many words that Mapi couldn’t even pretend to know the meaning of. She remembers bits and pieces, the parts that she knew she’d have to remember in case Alexia called again and wanted an update.

You’d lost a lot of blood but they were working to try and replenish it, you’d needed nearly 100 stitches all together, the scars were all about 6 inches long and just almost �� and inch deep. You didn’t hit any major arteries or veins, but you grazed one of them and that was most likely why you bled so much. Your blood might have not clotted because of the antidepressants in your system potentially mixed with the ibuprofen you were taking for your ankle. They don’t know when you are going to wake up but they emphasise you sleeping isn’t a bad thing because you’re body is getting the rest that it needs to repair itself.

Mapi doesn’t understand the measurements or the way medications work, she knows your body needs rest but she also desperately just wants you to wake up. Selfishly, even if it’s just for a second so that she knows that you are okay, so that she can stop blaming herself for killing you. She’s always going to somewhat blame herself for this, but you dying would be the straw that broke the camels back.

Alexia doesn’t think the whole way back to Barcelona, the staff managed to get her on the last flight out of the night, with Ingrid.

They both don’t say a word after Alexia briefs Ingrid on what she learnt from Mapi on the phone, it’s nowhere near enough information and it leaves Alexia’s brain stumbling, she’s so uncertain of everything.

There is a chauffeur waiting for them at the airport which takes them straight to the hospital, Alexia doesn’t even pretend to be flattered when the reception staff immediately know who she is and takes her straight to your room. She has one concern. Everything else is just background noise to her.

Seeing you makes Alexia feel sick, literally, it’s a few seconds before she feels the bile rising. It’s been building for hours now and she rushes into the bathroom adjacent to your room and ungracefully let’s her stomach go directly into the toilet bowl.

Once she’s done and she feels less like her heart is going to fall out of her throat she gets up and puts on a brave face, walking back into your room.

Mapi has tears streaming down her face, Ingrid is trying to talk to her but Alexia can tell that none of it is getting through to her.

“Mapi, what happened?”

Alexia wants to know, she needs to know, she needs to know how you got here.

Mapi is shaking, her whole body, it’s almost scary the way that her body vibrates against the chair she’s sitting in.

“I-I went to check in on her, dios mios, it was so cold, she was-she-.”

Ingrid stops Mapi.

“Alexia, we can do this later, she can’t handle this right now.”

Ingrid looks as terrified as Alexia feels, but her fear is for Mapi, it makes sense, Mapi is the love of her life. Alexia doesn’t think she’s entitled to the same fear, she let you go.

“No-no, she wants to know.”

It’s clear that every word is pulling Mapi further and further apart, but she pushes through.

“I-I just needed to see her, I went through all the rooms until I got to her bathroom.”

She lets out a sob before continuing.

“There was so much blood, it was all coming from her arm, I tried my best, I tried my best.”

Mapi sobs again, this time it’s so deep and guttural that Alexia is so horrified about what is to come.

“I tried to stop it. She was supposed to be sleeping, I thought she was just sleeping. She was unconscious, blood everywhere, and it just kept coming, it wouldn’t stop. I tried my best.”

Ingrid is murmuring words into Mapi’s ear, Alexia doesn’t know what to say, she actually can’t think of a single word to say.

“I called the ambulance, but she coded in the ambulance, they had to give her so many stitches, so much blood.”

Mapi keeps repeating the same words, over and over again, like it’s a mantra.

Alexia needs to stop it, for her bestfriends sake.

She walks to the otherside of the room, gently pushing Ingrid to the side so she can squat down in front of Mapi.

“Maria look at me. You did your best, you saved her life. You are no more to blame for this then anybody else is. You did so well, she’s alive because of you, she is breathing and sitting in front of us because of you. You did that.”

Mapi doesn’t look like she believes Alexia, but it’s a reprieve from whatever trance she was in.

“How about you and Ingrid go and get something to eat, I’ll stay here with her, if anything happens I’ll call you, okay?”

Mapi looks apprehensive to get up, but Alexia watches Ingrid give her a look and it’s the first time since Alexia’s walked into this room that she sees a little bit of normality return to Mapi’s face.

“Sh-she left you a letter. I think you should read it.”

Mapi pushes it into Alexia’s hands like it’s poisonous.

“Thank you Mapi, I will, go and take a break.”

Alexia presses a kiss to Mapi’s hand, before moving to allow Ingrid to help her up. Mapi is uneasy on her feet and for a second Alexia thinks she might collapse or vomit. She eventually finds her footing though and follows Ingrid out of the room.

Alexia looks down at the letter.

It’s got dried blood finger prints on it, she presumes from Mapi, it secures all of this in some weird way. This is all actually happening.

Alexia takes her time opening it, this is tangible evidence of all of this and a part of Alexia wants nothing more then for it to disappear, so she can pretend none of this has happened.

She wasn’t even there for it, she can’t imagine what Mapi went through, she already feels like every part of her has been stripped away with this.

She feels like she’s an imposter in this all, she doesn’t know what to do.

You’ve never expressed to her anything about family or parents, she doesn’t think it would be right to call them without your permission. She wants to call her own mami but that feels a bit silly, although she knows somehow her mami would give her all the right advice. She doesn’t want to talk about any of it though, it feels wrong. This is such a personal issue, she doesn’t even think she should know about it, she doesn’t have any right considering that Alexia could have very well contributed to this whole issue.

The letter is white, off white possibly, it’s hard to tell with the harsh fluorescent lighting.

The marks that would have been bright red at some stage have faded to a dull reddish brown, it’s imprinted deep into the paper.

Alexia flips it over, gently opening the seal with her fingernail and letting the flap open up.

The paper inside is the same colour, except even though she can only see the flip side it’s clear that there is black scrawl all over it.

Alexia could make it disappear, act like she read it, it would make it all so much easier, it would save her a lot of emotions that she really doesn’t feel prepared to feel. But she doesn’t get to make that decision, she needs to read this, for you and for her.

Dear Alexia,

If you’re reading this then chances are I’m already gone, if I’m not then something went wrong and for that I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think that any of this was about you, or that you or anybody else was responsible. I made this decision, I’ve been thinking about this long before you came and I would have spent everyday thinking about it, no action or intervention would have changed that.

I don’t know how to explain it, but life is different for me. I don’t experience things the same way, I don’t get happy when I spend time with friends, I don’t get happy when it’s sunny outside. I’ve tried it all, I’ve tried to make it work, tried to live life in my body. I think a part of me was always separate though, and as much as I’ve tried to make it work there is no point in trying to fix something that is always going to be broken.

Being with you was the first time that my brain felt quiet, that I kind of felt the experience of happiness that everyone else feels. You made it all better, everything with you felt better, it felt normal. All I ever wanted was to be a normal person, and you made me feel like that. It’s not fair of me to be saying that, you deserved better then me, it wasn’t fair for me to burden you with all of this shit. Fucked up is never not fucked up, you can’t uncrumple a crumpled piece of paper, it will always be creased. I want you to know that I didn’t do this to you, i did this for you. It wasn’t fair weighing you down, I know it wasn’t easy for you when we broke up, you deserve to focus on football. You deserve to have a good life, you deserve to be free. I don’t want you to feel bad, I don’t want you to feel like you’re responsible. Live your life, be happy, for me, experience it all, because I couldn’t.

I’m not myself anymore, although I don’t think I ever was myself. It always kind of feels like i’ve been different people in my own body, and this time i couldn’t handle it. I don’t want to feel devoid anymore, I want to be free. My identity has always been identified as being a good footballer, a great footballer, and I don’t even think I can say that I am that anymore. I am nothing, want to be nothing.

I’m sorry I never loved you back in the same way, I’m sorry I never reciprocated the endless graciousness and love tha you gave me. The smiles, the effort, the constant love, it was wasted on me and my biggest regret in life will be letting you waste it on me. It wasn’t fair, it’ll never be fair, because I loved you back and that perhaps was the most selfish act I’ve ever committed.

I’m sorry, there aren’t enough words that I could use to tell you just how sorry I am. I’m sorry that I burdened you with me, I’m sorry that I let myself be cared for by you, I’m sorry that you have to read this.

I’m sorry.

There wouldn’t have ever been anything I could have done to repair it, I didn’t want to live knowing that I would forever be in debt to you for this. I hope that eventually you will find peace in this, that some good will finally come of me.

Goodbye.

There are tears all over the page by the time Alexia gets to the bottom of the letter, she actually can’t comprehend what she’s just read, she swears that her mind must be playing tricks on her. Why would you think all of those things? What made you think all of those things?

Alexia feels sick again.

Did she make you feel that way? Did she make you feel like you weren’t deserving of living?

There are so many questions circulating her brain, and she doesn’t have a answer for a single one of them, because she doesn’t know. Suicide was your only option, one that could have been very permanent, it makes Alexia’s head swim. You believed that your only option to make it all stop was death. You found a permanent solution to something that Alexia’s considers a potentially temporary situation, had you reached out, had you tried to find help. She can’t criticise you, she can’t even begin to comprehend how hard it would be living as you have, and then having to try and talk to somebody else about that. A part of her wishes you had though, because maybe it would have saved her beind here.

Your body is the exact same it was the last time Alexia looked at you, but for some reason you feel different.

Alexia reaches out for your hand, it’s the arm that’s not covered in bandages. Your hands are cold, but she tries to ignore it. She focuses on the feeling of movement underneath her own hand, it’s the only real tangible proof she has that you are here with her, that you are alive.

Sure there is a beeping heart monitor, and other signs, but she just wants to feel you.

She holds your hand, because she swears that she’ll slip away. Alexia doesn’t know what to do, she doesn’t know how to help you but she promises herself that she’s going to be here, that she isn’t ever going to let you experience life the same way that you did without her being there for you.

—————————————————————

thoughts appreciated …. part 2?

another reminder that if you ever need anybody to talk to i am here, your life is worth living, you are worth it all. <3

[kanpaeki]

babydoll - dominic fike x reader

i tried something different with this little piece. i know it's short but i got a long one on the way <3

x

no matter what he did, he couldn't forget about you. try as he may, walking down the sidewalk by several miami clubs, the hot neon lights reflecting on excited bodies, girls giggling as guys whispered in their ears, hidden by the chatter of nightlife. but all he could think about was how you and him rolled around the sheets, how you listened to him strum while you were half-awake, how sweet your kisses were. it was pathetic how much he thought about you and he knew that.

even now, checking his phone, knowing it was nothing but people bothering him about plans and things he had to do. but none of them were you. and none of them would be. not unless you were needy. and he couldn't handle that anymore. not after everything he told you. he gave you so much of himself. you only gave what you felt necessary. fluffing his curls with his hand, he couldn't believe he was that vulnerable unwarranted. it just wasn't like him. but you. something about you pulled it out of him.

weeks together you spent with him, just enjoying each other presence. so many laughs, so many kisses. he held you so close, gripped you like he knew this was gonna happen. he wishes he held on just a little tighter, maybe you wouldn't be so far away now. all he wanted to do was invite you inside his mind and show you everything he was thinking. he knew he didn't have much to offer that someone else couldn't give you, you deserved the world and all its oysters. but damnit, if he didn't want to at least try.

he walked past another club playing the latest break-up song and he hated that he knew what it felt like. it wasn't even a break-up. he just missed you. he had no right to feel this way, you were never in a relationship, much to his dismay. but he crossed the street and the song faded from his ears. he usually wasn't this irritable. but after you left, it seemed like everything got on his nerves. he was never tired with you. nothing you did bothered him. except for the fact you weren't here.

he checked his phone one last time and sighed before just turning it off all the way. he knew he would be okay with time. but no one else would replace you. he couldn't call anyone else his babydoll. back when it felt like you needed him, when you called him for any reason, he loved to call you that. it fit you so well. he wasn't worthy but he wanted to offer you all he had. there's no part of you he wouldn't take. he adored all of you. his babydoll.

[risswirly]

Frayed Edges

SYNOPSIS: The plan was to attend a vortex party to get your mind off the argument you'd had with Warren, but things take a turn when he unexpectedly shows up, begging to talk to you GENRE: Angst and fluff NOTE: It's a bit out of character I can't lie but I just rlly wanted to write something with a bit more conflict T^T (Song inspo: No. 1 Party Anthem, Arctic Monkeys) WORD COUNT: 3.4k

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Typically, this would be the last place you'd want to be. The smell of alcohol, weed and impulse hangs thick in the air as blasting music numbs your eardrums. You'd only gone to a few Vortex club parties in the past and it seemed they never got any less wild. Somehow, your friends' promises of "it'll be fun", "it'll make you feel better", and reassurance to stick with you the whole night successfully got you to come, although, after only a few drinks, she was now nowhere in sight.

You make your way into the kitchen, deciding that if you had to be stuck here until she reappeared, you would at least spend that time drunk. Grabbing and filling a red plastic cup, you gulp down a glass of punch. You wince at the unexpectedly strong concentration of vodka, which you probably should've seen coming.

Perhaps this party wouldn't be so bad, you reconsidered, filling your cup again. Just a few more drinks and you could actually see yourself having a good time, dancing to the music, catching up with people, and.. maybe even meeting someone?

You immediately feel your heart grow heavy as you remind yourself why your friend had thought it would be a good idea for you to come. You chug down another cup.

It had been about two weeks since you last spoke to Warren, no calls, no texts and most certainly no face-to-face interactions, simply spotting him in the hall was enough to make you feel sick to the stomach. It was nauseating how quickly someone you once needed to breathe could make you feel like you were suffocating. The worst part was you really did miss him. His smile, his corny references you didn't understand half the time, his hand on the gear shift in his car, the feeling of his fingertips tracing your-

You shut your eyes tight and knock back your head, letting the alcohol fill your system. What was this, your 5th drink? If it could make you forget for just one night, it was good enough, was all you thought as you stumble to refill the cup. For the first night in two weeks, you wouldn't question your self-worth, you decided tonight would be your night.

You crush the plastic cup in your hands and throw it into the bin with a newfound determination coursing through your veins as you make your way toward the music. The living room is swimming with people, music blaring from a makeshift DJ booth at the front of the room, and coloured lights flicker and illuminate the blurry crowd of dancing students.

You make your way to the dance floor and begin to move along to the music. Although you start a little awkwardly, over the next hour you gradually feel the warmth and haziness from the alcohol engulf you, feeling the thudding of the bass sync with your heart as you become more and more confident.

In your dancing you suddenly notice the empty coffee table that's situated in the middle of the room right next to you. In a moment of impulsivity, you hoist yourself up on top. You wobble a little at the sudden movement, but looking out over the crowd, the world feels like your oyster. You giggle to yourself as you sway your hips drunkenly, trailing your hands over your body and through your hair, showing off, even winking at a cute guy in the crowd, feeling like the hottest girl alive.

You close your eyes as you dance, and the room feels electric, everyone staring at you, cheering, dancing along to your rhythm, their cameras flashing as you feel the best you have in two weeks. You reopen your eyes and feel your breath hitch in your throat, in the corner of the room, standing with a drink, you spot Warren, his gaze fixated on the same thing as everyone else's: you.

You feel your heart begin to pound, now wanting nothing more than to disappear. You quickly try to step off the table, but the crowd of tightly packed bodies gives you no room to escape. You feel as if you're about to throw up and try your best not to panic, looking for an exit from being the centre of attention.

Among the sea of faceless people, you see a hand extending toward you. You look and see it's the guy you had winked at before reaching to help you. You grab his hand and sigh in relief as he pulls you down from the table, holding you steady as you stumble out of the crowd. You look back to try and spot Warren but can't see him through the dancing mass of students. "Woah, you are totally gone", he chuckles as he leads you away from the lounge room. "Yeah, that was the idea", you mumble, holding your head in your palm as he brings you back towards the kitchen.

You lean against the counter and contemplate every decision you've ever made. Why the fuck was he here? Warren never came to these kinds of events, so why, of all nights, did he come here? Tonight? You groan into your hands and feel like crying. "Hey, this might help" You feel a hand on your back and, upon uncovering your face, are greeted with a glass of water. "Thanks", you mutter before taking a sip. Now in the better-lit kitchen you could get a decent look at this guy. It would be a lie to say he wasn't good-looking and he had been considerate enough to help you out, but the thought of Warren just a few rooms away gnawed at you.

He leans his hip on the counter, facing you with crossed arms. "I, uh, saw you wink at me during your little moment" he grins coyly. You bury your face in your palms once again as you remember, "Fuck. I did, didn't I?" You groan, questioning if Warren had seen that or not. "Yeah, you seem pretty wasted" " he chuckles before unashamedly looking you up and down, "How 'bout we ditch this place huh?" he suggests, an eagerness lacing his voice. You shut your eyes and curse your previous spark of confidence under your breath, now being faced with the chore of turning this guy down. "Like you said, I'm pretty drunk and I'm actually waiting for my friend so.." you manage to stammer as you slowly take a step back. "Oh come on. We'll be done before she even realises you're gone," He insists with a smirk, taking a step toward you.

You try taking another step back, but something blocks you. You let out a small gasp and your body shudders as you feel a hand trail its way from your lower back to your hip. You don't even need to turn around to know who the hand belongs to. "She's with me." Warren's voice is sombre and harsh as he glares at the boy who uncrosses his arms and laughs, "Excuse me?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "I said she's with me, so back the fuck off", Warren repeats, tightening his grip on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You look up at him and your heart stops as you realise how close his face is to yours. You notice the definition in his jaw as he clenches his teeth, eyes narrowed as he shoots daggers into the guy standing in front of you both. Warren was far from intimidating, but in this moment, all traces of his unserious and lighthearted self disappeared. The boy chuckles and brings his gaze back to you, a sceptical look on his face as if to say, 'no way he's serious'. You let out a shaky breath and reluctantly nod your head, facing Warren would be better than leaving with this guy. He scoffs and looks over your one last time before putting his hands up in surrender with a shrug, "Whatever, bitch", he mutters as he turns and leaves.

You let out a sigh and take an unsteady step away from Warren, his hand slipping from your waist. You now stand before him, barely able to look him in the eyes, "What the fuck was that?" you ask, your voice laced with more anger than intended. Warren shakes his head confused "Excuse me? That was me helping you", he states as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Oh, thank you Warren, my night in shining armour. Please. do you want a medal?" You snap back. His eyes fill with hurt as you mock him, he takes a shaky breath, "(Y/n) please, I just want to talk. I want to fix this" he pleads. Your throat tightens hearing the ache in his voice and you immediately regret drinking so much earlier, wishing you weren't so intoxicated right now. You sigh, "I'm still here aren't I?" You roll your eyes. You see his gaze soften as you agree to talk but the anxious look in his eyes quickly returns, "Not here", he insists as he looks around at the other people in the room.

Before you can say anything, he takes your hand and begins leading you through the house, taking you upstairs and into a bathroom far from the main action of the party, although you can still hear the music and chattering faintly. The two of you stand alone in the dim light, thoughts racing and hearts pounding, the millions of things you've wanted to say and yell and ask him over the past 2 weeks seem to escape your mind. His eyes gaze over you, taking in every feature and curve of your face as he stands in front of you, breathless. You take a small step back and he snaps back to reality, "S-sorry. I just.. haven't seen you in so long", he mutters apologetically. "Well, you wanted to talk? So talk" You murmur, your tone not so harsh now that it's just the two of you.

He anxiously rubs the back of his neck, clearly nervous, "I don't even know where to start", he whispers quietly. "What you said to me two weeks ago might be a good start" " you reply, a tang of bitterness still in your tone. He places a palm on his forehead, "That stupid argument", he groans painfully.

Your brows furrow, "Stupid?" you echo his words, the anger in your voice raising with your temper. He shakes his head "No- no, that's not what I meant" he tries to correct himself, clearly frustrated.

You turn your back to him trying to hide the pain in your face, "I gave you my ALL, Warren. Every part of me and you just.. it didn't mean anything to you. Do you know how much that hurts? But no, you're right, it's just stupid" You spit back, the alcohol from earlier making it hard to control the shake in your voice.

He takes a hesitant step toward you, wanting nothing more than to reach out and comfort you, but he refrains. "(y/n).. You know that's not what I meant-" he pleads. "Really? Do I know? I thought I knew two weeks ago too, but clearly, I was wrong" Your scolding sounds more like a sob as your emotions bubble over. "I never meant to hurt you", He whispers just loud enough for you to hear.

You take a shaky breath trying with all your might to stop the tears that sting your eyes. You turn and face him, "No, Warren, you don't get to play the intention card. I asked you what we were, what I meant to you and you couldn't even give me an answer. Months of sneaking around and keeping things a secret, I couldn't take it anymore. I want more, Warren. I want us. I want real, genuine love, not this friends-with-benefits bullshit!" You step toward him and point a finger into his chest, "You knew how I felt, and you knew you didn't feel the same. You knew how this would end, but you kept leading me on.. and you wanna say you 'didn't mean to hurt me'?" You sob, feeling the tears roll down your cheeks and onto the cold tile.

He stands with his mouth agape, unbreathing, still and completely silent as he takes in what you said. He inhales shakily before speaking. "Is that what you thought I meant?" he breaths. His question is genuine. You hear the anguish and guilt in his voice as his face melts into despair. Seeing you cry, his hesitancy instinctively disappears, and he begins to comfort you, with one hand, he softly holds your shoulder, placing the other on your cheek, gently wiping your tears with his thumb. "No, no, (y/n)... You can't seriously think that's how I felt, please.." His begs, utterly crushed.

You continue to cry, giving up on holding it in anymore, "'I don't know', that's the only answer you could give me Warren. Do you know how much it hurts to hear someone you've loved for so long tell you they don't know what you are to them ?" You break down into tears, taking his wrists and weakly trying to pull his hands away as you sob. He continues to wipe your cheeks despite your protest "I couldn't even think straight that day. I was scared out of my mind-" You cut him off, "You think I wasn't scared?" You cry, pushing his hand away forcefully

He shakes his head in distress, "No (y/n), that's not what I meant! You have it all wrong!" His retorts back exasperated. His voice is raised, not by a lot, but just enough to get you to stop interrupting him and hear what he has to say.

"God. I feel like everything I say is being misunderstood or comes out wrong!" He holds his head in his hands, taking a step back to breathe. "You think I don't also want more? I want to be so much more. I want to be more than just friends with benefits, I want to be more than just casual hookups, I want to be more than whatever the fuck we were before. That day, in your room, when you asked me what you meant to me, I froze, okay? My brain shut down and I went into panic mode and all I could say was 'I don't know' over and over because in all honesty, I don't know how to even begin explaining just how much you mean to me."

He goes quiet as he calms down and takes a deep breath before continuing, "That day, I was scared if I told you how I really felt you'd get freaked out and I'd end up fucking it all up and losing you. But I lost you anyways.. and on top of that I ended up hurting you."

He rubs the nape of his neck nervously leaning his head back as he finally confronts his feelings, "I've never felt this way about anyone and I don't know how to deal with it. Every time I see you I feel like I'm going insane. You have no idea how much of an effect you have on me."

He rubs his hands across his face restlessly, "These past two weeks without you have been absolute torture- I only came to this stupid party because I hoped that by some miracle you'd also be here and I'd see you. I knew I had to fix this because.. I'd never forgive myself for being stupid enough to lose the person that means the most to me." His breathing is fast as his heart beats out of his chest as he finally opens up to you about how he truly feels, something he's been too afraid to face for so long.

He places both his hands on your shoulders and looks deep into your soul, his eyes filled with longing and need, " I want us more than I've wanted anything else in my whole life.. Please"

You stand in shock, unable to speak. You look at him, instead of the heartless villain you'd convinced yourself he was, you see the boy you'd fallen in love with, vulnerable and honest, giving you his heart. You realise that all this time you'd let your anxieties manifest and cloud your vision, that all along you were just two teenagers in love too scared to admit what you felt. You see the desperation in Warren's eyes as he tries to fix the mistakes he's made, and you feel yourself melt from the inside out. You nod softly as you lean into him.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he gently pats your head, letting you cry into his shoulder. He buries his face in your hair, breathing you in as he squeezes you tighter. You feel him exhale shakily as he holds you, the tension and anxiety slowly dissolving from his body as he grasps the fact you're in his arms again. "I really thought I'd lost you", he quietly whispers into your neck, you hear the tears in his voice as he brings you closer.

You grasp the fabric of his shirt tightly as you finally embrace him after weeks apart. "I missed you so much" " you mutter as you close your eyes and feel his warmth blanket you. He caresses your head softly, "I'm not going anywhere", he reassures you.

You pull away slightly and look him in his eyes. You see his cheeks are wet from his tears and he looks away embarrassed. You softly cup his jaw, pulling him to face you again and begin to gently wipe his cheeks dry. He looks at you through heavy eyelids as he leans into your touch. He places his hand over yours, "I want to be official this time." he says nervously. He pauses and takes a deep breath as he swallows his fears, "(y/n) would you.. be my girlfriend?" his words are quiet and nervous as the questions hangs in the silence between you.

Time stops as you hear the words leave his mouth and you feel his heart pounding through his chest. Your mouth falls open, and your eyes widen as you feel your own heart explode. As the words register in your mind your eyes soften and you smile back at him softly, "I'd love nothing more" you whisper just loud enough for him to hear. You watch as the worry leaves his face as he takes a deep breath and he smiles back at you tenderly.

He slowly brings a hand to your jaw and leans in as you close your eyes you stand on your toes. He erases the gap between you, kissing you gently. He breathes you in, missing every part of you as he's reminded of how addicting you are. "No more secrecy, no more hiding" He continues kissing you as he talks "I want everyone in this town to know I'm yours" " he mutters into your lips, his words muffled by his kisses. You giggle at his eagerness as you kiss him back, "I like the sound of that".

As you laugh you suddenly hear a familiar voice from outside "(Y/n) are you in there?!" you hear your friend call drunkenly from outside the door. You and Warren both become paralysed, your attention snaps toward the world outside the bathroom as you hear her open the door without warning. "(Y/n)! Guess what! Apparently Warren is here tonight an-" she freezes in her tracks, eyes wide and jaw on the floor seeing the two of you in a heated embrace, his hands on your lower back and your fingers in his hair. She blinks in shock before speaking, "Oh, hi Warren..." She says awkwardly, glancing at you with a look that screams 1000 words before she begins to back away. "Okay, I'm just gonna..." she trails off as she closes the door, leaving the two of you alone again.

You stand in silence for a moment, still looking at the door before you burst out into laughter. "Oh my god, I have so much explaining to do", you groan as you lean your head on Warrens chest. He chuckles at your embarrassment, "It'll be okay",  he reassures you as he pats your back, still holding you tenderly. You look up at him, "Yeah, it'll be okay", you echo back. He looks at you, eyes filled with warmth and affection. He was right, it would be okay, because right now in his warm embrace, nothing had ever felt more right.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

[nightmyst14-blog]

Made a relationship chart (somewhat) for my oc, Sour Cream Cookie!!

Every Italic line is Sour Cream speaking about the person.

To Oyster: "I thank you for being at my son's side while I was gone. Such a interesting daughter you have."

To Grand Madeleine: "Thank you for taking care of Light Cream. She is fond of you. "

To Financier: "So you're my son's bodyguard? My, I've missed much."

Little Bonus:

To Bubble Pearl ( @queen-rainy-love ): "Such a striking resemblance to your mother!! I thank you for being my son's friend during his hard times.."

From Oyster: So my mother had taken you as her bounty hunter? How interesting. You are very lucky.

From Grand Madeleine: It is no trouble. My home and family are always open to her and you.

From Financier: I can see where the Consul gets his intellegence from.

To Light Cream: "My beloved Light!! Whatever and Whoever you choose, I will stand by you."

To Clotted Cream: "My son... You look like me... I'm glad you're choosing your own path."

From Light Cream: Its been so long.... I thought you would never come back...

From Clotted Cream: So you're my real father... Why haven't I heard of you?

To Captain Caviar: "My dear friend, I thank you for keeping an eye on my son. It will be interesting to now be a part of your crew..."

To Candy Diver: "So you also understand what's down in the dark depths? I would love to hear some of your stories."

From Captain Caviar: Heh, that knowledge of how ships are repaired and fixed will be very useful for the Salty Shark!! Heh, might even make ya Navigator.

To Candy Diver: *Happy noises*

To Black Pearl: "I thank you for sparing me....but I believe your anger has began to overflow into me..."

To squid Ink: "Odd little thing... They almost thought I was a toy once and tossed me around..."

To Pirate: "You hurt Calypso...I do not like that."

From Black Pearl: You are useful. Don't forget to catch those nasty debtors for me~

From Squid Ink: Cookie... friend...? Mama likes cookie...

From Pirate: L-Look I-I didnt know that the sea beast was yours???

To Elder Custard: "You will be DRAGGED to the bottom of the Abyss for what you did to my Light and my son!!"

From Elder Custard: How dare you bring yourself into this?? You are NOTHING like the Lord of House Scone you once were!!

[finniestoncrane]

G'day I'm here for the BBQ Platter. If I could get that to takeout please? And with a signature cocktail. And for sides could I get a half sandwich, oysters, roasted veg and sauteed mushrooms?

general!boomer x gn!reader, word count: 300 content (warnings): rough sex, inexpereienced partner, praise!kink, the kitchen is now closed! 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie1500 (to follow or to block) a/n: thank you anon! i think this is my peak lmao but i'm so happy and grateful 💚

digger would eat up an inexperienced partner, someone he can teach all his best moves to

someone who might be more inclined to forgive any clumsiness

anyone who can utter the phrase "i've never done anything like this before" drives him wild

like he's conquering unknown lands, staking his claim in you, making you completely his

letting you place all your trust in him, as misguided as that might be...

since he can get quite... rough? posessive? competitive even?

either way, you're in his hands now, and he'll tell you to sit back and relax while he shows you how good he is

in a bid to keep you comforted, or placated, whatever, he'll shower you with praise

there's a never ending barrage of compliments coming your way

"you're taking my cock pretty well, love"

"you feel so good, so tight, fuckin' perfect"

"you look so hot from this angle, babe"

not romantic by any means, but they send a tingle through your body either way

and makes it easier for you to know exactly what to say when he asks you the most important question

"do you want it gentle, or do you want it rough, sweetheart?"

because of course, you're saying rough

you want him to use you, to show you everything he's capable of, everything you've been missing

and you know you've chosen correctly when he growls into your ear

"that's the right answer, gorgeous"

a sharp increase in pace and force, you're reduced to a whimpering, drooling, red raw mess under him

exactly the way he wants you

unable to think about anything but him, bruised and marked by him, your entire body transformed into something to remember him by

not that you'll forget easily, not in a hurry anyway

and if you ever feel yourself beginning to forget how he amazing he felt

rest-assured that he's always a quick phone call away

[junk-thrillz]

cody x ed (looks around rapidly...who said that...i didnt say that...) they both are chasing after other people (their approval, their trust, for their protection [[if not for their protection, their trust, if not always their trust, for their protection]]- isabel and jeff) only to find themselves and one another accidentally and incidentally. Ft. ed poorly drawing out spirits for cody to see. ft have they even interacted in canon dont dont ask me that . watching lightning bugs at night. missing and transformed moms. one who is never truly family, and finds freedom without purpose, one who is stuck with family and looses free will. the true perks/punishment of a small town is that one random guy in your middle school class suddenly becoming the guy you always knew in highschool. color palletes that look cool together. Bye

No no come back, I want to hear more-

AND YOU KNOW WHAT!! It doesn't mattered that they've barely interacted in canon!! The world is our oyster!! They're canonically friends!! I think that's part of why they're so appealing to me as a pair. Like, what's their story? How did they become friends? How do they talk to each other? What do they talk about? It feels right to see them next to each other, or even just in the same scene, but there's so little canon material about them to go off of that I wonder why I get that feeling about them. There's so much left unanswered about their dynamic and I WANT TO KNOW!! I want them to have a moment alone together!!

I think it's easy to forget, sometimes, that Ed has an entire friend group separate from the Activity Club, a group with people who they actually have a lot of chemistry with. Because we have very few scenes in comic where we actually get to see that group in action. But they are!! They are friends!! And I want to see Cody and Ed hang out even if it isn't in a romantic context!! (But also it being in a romantic context would be cool too-)

I already shipped them on account of my belief that their entire friend group has something gay going on, but your ask is making me realize how perfect they are as a thematic pair. I can't help but latch onto the comment you made about their families... how neither Cody nor Ed have probably never been to the other's house, because their situations are both less-than-ideal in wildly different ways. The way Cody and Ed have the potential to understand in each other in a unique way, but also have the potential to miss each other like two ships passing in the night.

I've actually written Cody x Ed fic before. Just for you (and everyone else who ends up seeing this post), I'll post it under a Read More. It was written mere months before the reveal that Cody's heart isn't in his chest, so it's been thoroughly decanonized... but that also makes it funnier to look back on. We really had no idea huh? Anyway, here's some short Cody x Ed.

Cody’s heart beat slower than the others’. Ed knew why. Ed knew why, but they weren’t sure they liked the reason. There was always that fear, that someone like the Cousinhood would come to take Cody away. That Cody’s dad, an example of what a spectral could become, represented what Ed could become. That someday, maybe the Cousinhood would take everyone away. 

Ed sighed, adjusting their legs so that they wouldn’t fall asleep. Strewn out half on top of, half beside Cody, head resting against his chest so that they could hear his slow, rhythmic pulse, Ed had never felt so peaceful and so nervous at the same time.

Cody opened his eyes for a moment, to peer at Ed with stupidly blue eyes. “That can’t be comfortable, with your glasses on like that.”

Ed hummed. Cody was right. It wasn’t. But Ed was in a sort of trance; they didn’t want to stop listening to Cody’s heartbeat. They didn’t want it to peter out, while they weren’t paying attention. It was just too slow.

One of these days, Ed would ask Cody to listen out for their heartbeat, too.

[lafcadiosadventures]

Madame Putiphar Groupread. Book Two, Chapter XXXI

“We must howl with the wolves, he who bleats among them shall be their prey!”

(tr. here  by @sainteverge )

Gustave Doré's Les loups et les brebis.

Sit yourself with a nice cup/glass of something and let’s ponder urban/rural, intra/extra european tensions in the 19th c european novel together. nerdface emoji.

(I love you Borel but this chapter has tested my patience. Why do you make the blorboes move at a glaciar pace in times of crisis)

After Deborah’s announcement and Patrick’s declaration of ideal paternity and family life, the couple dines together. Patrick asks Deborah if she likes Paris specifically before letting her know that they must LEAVE the city FAST. That gives Borel the chance to explore through Deborah yet another central theme of the Romantic novel, or the 19th c novel as a whole, Rural vs Urban life tensions. Borel as always, adds his own personal twist to it. Taking into account how essentialist 19th c French-surely not exclusively- literature is, how Romantic movements are about going back to some kind of National essence, how you cannot leaf through one of these books without reading about so called spanish/italian personality traits, occasionally reaching ad absurdum levels like in Dumas when he has Dantès claim that southern europeans are more vulnerable to poison than northern europeans, Balzac and his ambitious meridionals (in his defense, he at least IS a meridional himself), his stabby-because-catholic corsicans, and don’t get me started on Gautier’s Voyage en Espagne. Positive or negative, there is in this literary word, no escaping regional stereotyping.  

What Borel does when addressing the question, does Deborah miss Ireland, she states that she doesn’t, not Ireland specifically. What she misses is the countryside, what she loathes is city life. And, she affirms, she would loathe it as much in Dublin as in Paris. Modern Urban life is to her a sickness that seems to afflict all of Europe equally. This definitely stands out from other portrayals of Paris as a modern Babylon we’ve seen from other authors... Balzac would never. Paris is hell, but to him it is also Paris. as Diderot would say, in a fit of excessive nationalistic intoxication Paris is the brain of France, and France is the Brain of the World. yes. that was something he said unironically) But Borel does not care about what makes Paris specific here... Paris is part of something bigger, and not actually something good. He once again seems to anticipate much later philosophical ideas like Marc Augé’s non-places. Read this and tell me it doesn’t make you think of our post modern present, with our increasingly minuscule flats, the impossibility of looking out and not seeing more flats in some of the biggest metropolis in the world, etc:

 “Living in cities is narrowing; these boxes, these cages where as prisoners we wither away, compress and cinch the soul like a corset: our spirit confines itself to two ceilings and four walls; our gaze, which cannot break through, hits the surface and falls back on us; we take the habit of indulging ourselves, of being satisfied with ourselves, we diminish, we shrivel away. The perpetual sight of men’s work renders us petty and bourgeois like them: we forget the grand spectacles of nature, we forget the universe, we forget humanity, we forget everything, aside from ourselves, and whatever tastes we seek to quench: all creation comes down to a few pieces of furniture, a few chairs, a few tables, a few beds, a few pieces of fabric or silk, which we grow enamoured with, which we’re attached to like the oyster to its stone, over which we vegetate and crawl like lichen”

(translation by sainteverge)

I’d like to link here an excerpt of Champavert: The Werewolf as well. This earlier text seeks to be specifically Parisian, and more encompassing  than Debby’s experience. (noted passages in a similar vein: Balzac's Galleries of the Palais-Royale descriptionin Lost Illusions (the city-as-spectacle, everything and everyone for sale) and his snapshots of social inequality in Père Goriot)

“Le monde, c’est un théâtre: des affiches à grosses lettres, à titres emphatiques, hameçonnent la foule qui se lève aussitôt, se lave, peigne ses favoris, met son jabot et son habit dominical, fait ses frisures, endosse sa robe d’indienne, et, parapluie à la main, la voilà qui part; leste, joyeuse, désireuse, elle arrive, elle paie, car la foule paie toujours, chacun se loge à sa guise, ou plutôt suivant le cens qu’il a payé, dans le vaste amphithéâtre, l’aristocratie se verrouille dans ses cabanons grillés, la canaille reste à la merci. La toile est levée, les oreilles sont ouvertes et les cous tendus, la foule écoute, car la foule écoute toujours; l’illusion pour elle est complète, c’est de la réalité; elle est identifiée, elle rit, elle pleure, elle prend en haine, en amour, hurle, siffle, applaudit; en vain, quelquefois, sent-elle qu’on l’abuse et s’arme-t-elle de sa lorgnette, elle est myope, rien ne peut détruire son illusion et sa foi qu’exploite si galamment les comédiens”

Both of these passages share a grim diagnosis. Capitalist Modernity seems to be here a degenerative illness. Deborah’s focuses more on the domestic, most of her life means staying locked in,  completely lonely, but she has observed how the city tends to isolate, to make people focus only on their selves and their whims, which can only be satisfied by buying furniture, clothes, a thirst for possessions that transforms Humans into Oysters....

This to me is the highlight of the chapter.

After this speech our friends agree they must flee, and quick. Patrick and Deborah are ready to be open to each other. They tell each other what the reader already knows, they are now both equally aware of their danger, and of the wrongs they have both endured at the hands of their aristocratic tormentors.

Noteworthy word choice: Patrick compares himself at the hands of Putiphar to a virtuous maiden (we have joked in the groupchat about Debby and Patrick being lesbians before... Butch Lesbian Patrick confirmed)

Another thing i found startlingly contemporary sounding, in our days of lawfare and soft coups, Patrick, talkig of how Putiphar can use his theft and murder accusatio to give her illegal persecution a virtuous veneer: “she’ll be able, not that she cares about it, to mask her revenge behind an honest mask (...)”(tr, by cam)

Theres an absurdly ooc Deborah moment when she weeps and declares herself a burden. His beauty could have been the key to a brilliant social assent. Patrick corrects her, slightly offended because he is not about that #arriviste #boytoy life (Debby already knows that!???!) But Debby is only saying all of this because she fears this Fredegund’s retaliation........

Since God is apparently devoid of his divine wrath, and the powerful villains go unpunished, they must leave Paris in search of a new Promissed Land (slightly Candide-ish, right?) where if men are not less evil, (Patrick moves away from Rousseau... at least for a second) at the very least they can hope for a less asymmetrical distribution of power. Patrick has his naif hopes set on one of those ignored places European society calls savage, which he assumes will be more fit to give them “their share of sun, land and fraternity” (this is also a common theme in french novels of the day... Patrick at least still hopes to find Fraternity in these unspecified so called third world lands, instead of lording over the savages like Thénarider or Goriot era Vautrin...-Splendeurs era Vautrin hopes for an American Forest to die alone in after having eaten his own tongue. Progress. Growth.)

The only way of living in the European City is howling with the wolves, and since they’re not willing to do so, because they are lambs, they must leave. And Fast. So first to Marseille, Geneva or Livorne, and then to whatever earthly “virgin” rousseau/bougainville paradise they choose to set their paths to.

So Patrick (finally!!! sorry) leaves to buy some tickets in the first available carriage, Deborah will pack their things to avoid boredom/stress. Patrick wants a kiss, she refuses bc the farewell will then feel too final (...) Patrick claims that iron cannot harm a limb that has been kissed by a woman’s lips, so she passionately kisses him over his heart... but as soon as he sets foot on the streets Deborah hears him cry out for help. He is taken away by the kings men (illegally, in the night, shielded by the darkness) Patrick warns her not to come (she has to think of their baby) and says farewell forever. She throws out a flaming curtain for visibility. she sees as she descends, how Patrick is taken away in a palace carriage. She faints. Is taken away by Palace guardsmen herself. Book Two is over. Lasciate ogni speranza?

{ @sainteverge @counterwiddershins }

[twwpress]

Weekly Press Briefing #86: February 11th - 17th

Welcome back to the Weekly Press Briefing, where we bring you highlights from The West Wing fandom each week, including new fics, ongoing challenges, and more! This briefing covers all things posted from February 11 – February 17. Did we miss something? Let us know; you can find our contact info at the bottom of this briefing!

Challenges/Prompts:

Do you have a challenge or event you’d like us to promote or know of one we’re missing? Be sure to get in touch with us! Contact info is at the bottom of this briefing.

@thefinestmuffin and @JessBakesCakes are hosting the 3rd Annual Josh/Donna Rom-Com Fest. The fest revealed on February 14, but prompts and claims are still open and fics can still be added to the collection. Details here.

This Week in Canon:

Welcome back to This Week in Canon, where we revisit moments in The West Wing that occurred on these dates during the show’s run.

Season 1, Episode 15: Celestial Navigation aired on February 16, 2000.

Season 2, Episode 14: The War At Home aired on February 14, 2001.

Season 4, Episode 15: Inauguration: Over There aired on February 12, 2003.

Season 6, Episode 15: Freedonia aired on February 16, 2005.

Photos/Videos:

Here’s what was posted from February 11 - February 17:

Amy Landecker posted a screenshot of Josh Lyman in sunglasses. 

Amy Landecker posted photos of her and Brad’s dog Angie, including photos of each of them with the dog. 

Bradley Whitford posted a photo of his wife Amy with one of their dogs, along with a sweet Valentine’s Day message. 

Dulé Hill posted a photo from the TCAs where he was talking about his upcoming show “The Express Way with Dulé Hill”, a four part docu-series airing on PBS beginning April 23. 

Dulé Hill posted photos of himself and his wife Jazmyn continuing their Valentine’s Day oyster tradition. 

Janel Moloney posted a photo of her beagle Ollie eyeing her son’s birthday breakfast. 

Josh Malina posted a photo of himself donating platelets.

Josh Malina posted a cast photo from the 1992 National Tour of A Few Good Men. 

Marlee Matlin posted a photo of herself at the Academy Nominee Luncheon (she is a Governor). 

Mary McCormack posted photos of her daughter Rose playing live at the Whisky a Go Go as part of a benefit for HEARTbeats. 

Melissa Fitzgerald posted a photo of herself with her pup for Valentine’s Day. 

Richard Schiff posted a photo of himself with his wife Sheila for Valentine’s Day. 

Rob Lowe posted a photo of himself and his wife on bicycles in celebration of Valentine’s Day. 

Rob Lowe posted photos of himself at Santa Barbara International Film Festival with Robert Downey Jr. and Cillian Murphy. 

Donna Moss Daily: February 11 | February 12 | February 13 | February 14 | February 15 | February 16 | February 17

Daily Josh Lyman: February 11 | February 12 | February 13 | February 14 | February 15 | February 16 | February 17

No Context BWhit: February 11 | February 12 | February 13 | February 14 | February 15 | February 17

@twwarchive: February 11 | February 12 | February 13 | February 14 | February 15 | February 16 | February 17

@twwgifs: February 11 | February 14

Editors’ Choice: 

This week, we’re bringing you some of our favorite fics that touch on what could have been: here are a few of our favorite canon divergence fics!

i want your complications too by thefinestmuffins for JessBakesCakes | Rated T | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss, Amy Gardner/John Tandy | In progress | What could have happened between Josh and Donna during Dead Irish Writers if Josh and Amy had never really gotten off the ground? Canon-divergent from 100,000 Airplanes. In Whatever Way You Need by TemperanceCain | Rated T | C. J. Cregg/Toby Ziegler | Complete | C.J. has a problem. Margaret offers a solution. before i forget by jazzjo | Rated G | C.J. Cregg, Talmidge Cregg | Complete | standing at the fork in the road, c.j. chooses her father and ohio, at least for now. or,  a love letter to my grandmother let my love fix you up (when you’re coming undone) by JessBakesCakes for hufflepuffhermione | Rated T | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete | The Gaza Arc reimagined: what if Sam flew to Germany to make sure his friends didn't miss their third chance? love is not a victory march by epigraphs | Rated G | C.J. Cregg/Simon Donovan | Complete | On a bench in Times Square, surrounded by lights and sounds and sights and people, she lets herself fall apart. The Deepest of Needs by deandratb for broken_hearted_bard | Rated T | C. J. Cregg/Toby Ziegler | Complete | His proposal is a failure, his job is only getting harder. At least his best friend isn't going anywhere. Begins the night after “7A WF 83429.”

This week's fics coming in the reblog!

[mikkouille]

Dear mutual @mashmouths taggie me for the game of 'Post the ten first songs on your 'On repeat' playlist on Spotify' or SMTH like that.

As I do not have a Spotify, idk what all that means, but I decided to eyeball it from what the randomiser of my phone seems to give ten times a day, from me local files.

It is a hard work of statistic 100% accurate nothing could go wrong (lie, girlie behind me in the train loudly licking chips crumbs off her fingers and chewing. noise unbearable. thought jumbled over it. the statistics have been messed up). Basically, just clicking 'next song' til I get one that makes me go oh yeh she plays all the time'. What's on my Bandcamp isn't on my local files so unfortsh we lose a whole lot of potential songs there. It's life.

1. Boris Farewell, honestly she's so good portable. I can vibe on my better audio equipment, I can vibe in the metro, in a crowd, she'll always be an enjoyable one no matter the sounds around me.

2. doechii Stressed, well damn so true. I must be stressed too.

3.Nature LIMBO, LIMBO LIMBO LIIIIIIIIIM BO LIMBO LIMBO LIIM

4. Moses Sumney Gargarin, it's hilarious how I'll hear this song ten billion times a week from shuffle, go 'oh what's that song it's nice- oh right of course' somehow there's a spell on it that makes me forget the name. but not that I like it.

5. Britney Spears Outrageous, it's not even my fave of its album yet my phone is OBSESSED with her. Outrageous. When I move my body OUTRAGEOUS when I'm at a party OUTRAGEOUS in my sexy jeans

6. THORNAPPLE As Above So Below, had a phase in my life where I looped that song for hours and then days nothing else, my shuffle never recovered I think.

7. vvv Oh dirty Leeds, I swear it's been months since I Voluntarily of my own clicked the song, she's part of the landscape of my shuffle.

8. ShinEE The Feeling, if I hit shuffle I am sure to hear it at a point or another. It's like the home screen at this point.

9. shygirl BAWDY, it's criminal how you will never witness the gay AMV that happen in my head when this song plays (10 times a day).

10. FLO Losing you, often in immediate succession with the previous one. Keep them on their toes....

++++bonus

for some reason my phone constantly plays christi interlude, but not any other song from the album... hey there sweetieeee I was just taking a look at your cHArt and OoOøh myYyi GOODNESS (goodness) You Are. experiencing THE most powerful transit right now. we have the FUOUL MOÖN. Today! At 24 degreeeeees of CAPricorn. we have PLUTO. the MAIN! planet of transfhow delightful ☺️ you were born on a Nyew Myoon :] that gives you such an OPTImistic EnErgy. you believe Anything can Happen. the woooorld is you Oyster :] the Symbol! of the New Moon... is the SEED star seed (star seed) SCA(???neverunderstoodthatword) thru the galactic Center to Evolve Humanity.

btw last time it played it, it immediately played Rina's Take me as I am and honestly the transition was so seamless to me. granted the child screaming in the BG of the train I was in did help blending stuff together but.

didn't put any song of The Kpopman's group BC it'd have been passé. cliché. frenchwordé. you can assume that yes, it throws some at me at regular intervals. Respect my privacy. (I think if I had to identify one that I'm fed the most it'd have to be Venom, every shuffle she'll be here)

Also I got songs from the game tho and aside from. the. mh. miss answers. which I respectfully skip whenever out cuz it's for in private. I have to ask my phone; what's with amdapor. carrying the dungeon ost pack...

-----

The total here is somewhat cohesive but also doesn't feel complete, alas it's all one can do with 10 songs...

Tagging; ppl who don't have a Spotify only.

[yearninggirl]

Diary entry 002

(A poem - I love)

I love music, I love the drums

I love the way the bass and the melodies kiss in harmony

I love piano, I played till I was 10

Now I wish I could play again

I love silence, I hate it too

To know I’m alone, it makes me uneasy

But they’re special moments, intimate and still

I’m an introvert, I need to recharge

But I love people. To love, my heart is filled

I love songs with no lyrics, I love coloured lights

I hate to sleep alone on the harder nights

I love to touch, I love to kiss

Nostalgia always has me in its grip, there’s always something to miss

I love chocolate, but only brownies and cake

I love the way cookies melt in the microwave

I love vulnerability, I love to cry

Talk to me for hours what keeps you up at night

I love to understand and to peel back layers

I love apple cider vinegar, that’s probably weird

I love like it’s my last day on earth, I take no chances

I love music in the shower, the way it draws out dances

Sometimes I’m optimistic, I can be driven

Other times I’m paralysed - can’t understand why I’m living

I hate being cold, I love all my plushies

I love to write, I love dropping and starting hobbies

The worlds my oyster one day. The other it’s my enemy

I can be stubborn and loud, that I’ve seen plenty

When my eyes on the prize, there’s no sidetracking

I’m a woman of my word, on a promise you can bet I’m never double backing

I love to write, I like to collect trinkets

I feel misunderstood, sometimes like I’m shrinking

I feel alone, like no one knows me

It’s a self fulfilling prophecy, so I go into hiding

I’m soft I’m tender,

I’m steadfast, I’m strong

I’m beautiful I’m immature

I like to shower for long

In a world so big, with a sea of people and things

I forget who I am, what I love and what I crave

My identity haunts me, like I’m nothing, like I’m waiting on my demise

Like I’m fraud like I’m boring like I’m a needle in the hay

I write this to remind myself I’m made by the supernatural above

My attributes, My skills

Unique and tender

I was made on purpose, and all the things I love

[palialaina]

So, Jel's gonna be saying 'I told you so' a lot when he finds out how much I've burned myself...

But like...

worth it.

Everything in the Night Sky Temple now required glow worms, so I'm working on feeding my glow worm farm. Thank goodness for oysters, they really do make the trips to Bahari worthwhile. Things are a little more scarce on the beach, but I really do think we're dealing with a drought, and that's why we can't find as many things. (My house smells like fish again. Ugh. Maybe I'll try making a blueberry pie when I feel better...)

But yeah, Jell gets to say he told me so. I asked him what I should wear on a beach excursion, and hed advised me to cover up so I don't get sunburned.

So, guess who did not do that and got very sunburned?

This girl right here!

Ow.

I got a sympathy pie out of it from Auntie Dal when I went to talk to her about getting blueberries (I'm working on it! Ten high quality might be a little harder than I thought...), so that's nice. I feel like it's missing something... cold on top of it though.

On a bright note, ta-da!

I picked up more mod kits from Tish, and I have begun turning my furniture into something more me. I haven't shown Jel yet (admittedly, it's my turn to hide, he's probably going to be so fussed when I drop by...), and I know it's not his style, but I'm really happy with it. Maybe I should show Tish instead? She seems like someone who'd love the whole pink theme I'm trying for...

Reminder; go get more wallpaper. I really want the starry night one for the bedroom...

Also, finished the living room area. Mostly. Working on a tiny bathroom space, and I want to put in a snack table somewhere. Just so that we don't have to troop to the kitchen for treats while in the middle of a chezzu game.

Something about this game is familiar, but also... it's weird in how different it is. Also, I suck at it. And cards. I am not a good game player, I think. I lose too much and I get pouty.

I have been advised to never play against Hassian, but like... he's not as grumpy as I first thought he was. I don't necessarily appreciate him taking his mood out on me, but I can use it to pick on him later, I think.

He's not a complete jerk. He's just extremely awkward, and also painfully forthright. Just like Reth needs to learn how to bluff, Hassian needs to learn himself some damn tact.

Ngeh. I feel like there's something about sunburn treatment I should know but am forgetting. Something... stinky, but workable. Maybe Lark knows, I should ask them.

That or own up to being too stubborn for my own good and see if Jel has something that can help.

....nah.

I do regret it a little though. I probably won't be going far from home for the next few days while I heal. I just kind of want to go back here and sit though. Not cause it'll fix it, but because this spot just seems to call me back to it. Something about it is... important?

Maybe.

It's just incredibly soothing to be down there, I guess. Whatever it is, or was, I just... find comfort in that space.

Maybe next time I'll bring a whole picnic with me, and a book, and just be lost for a few hours. Days. Maybe days?

Hm. Jel might actually get too anxious to eat if I'm away for days. And I would miss talking to everyone. So, I guess hours to a day it is.

[loudfacesandwich]

A Weekend Getaway: Fun Things to Do in Corpus Christi

Introduction

Looking for a perfect weekend getaway? Look no further than Corpus Christi, Texas! This vibrant city is filled with exciting activities, beautiful beaches, delicious seafood, and a rich cultural heritage. Whether you're looking for a relaxing beach vacation or an adventurous outdoor experience, Corpus Christi has something for everyone. In this article, we'll explore the top things to do in Corpus Christi and help you plan an unforgettable weekend getaway.

A Weekend Getaway: Fun Things to Do in Corpus Christi TX

Corpus Christi offers a wide range of activities that cater to all interests and ages. From exploring the pristine beaches benefits of CoolSculpting to visiting historic landmarks, there's never a dull moment in this coastal city. Here are some of the must-see attractions and fun things to do in Corpus Christi:

1. Discover the Sparkling Beaches

Corpus Christi is famous for its stunning beaches, and no visit is complete without spending time by the sea. Pack your sunscreen and head to North Beach or Mustang Island State Park for a day of sunbathing, swimming, and beachcombing. Enjoy the crystal-clear waters and warm sand under your feet as you relax and soak up the sun.

2. Visit the Texas State Aquarium

Immerse yourself in the wonders of marine life at the Texas State Aquarium. This world-class facility showcases a variety of exhibits featuring dolphins, sharks, turtles, and other fascinating sea creatures. Don't miss the opportunity to touch stingrays or watch a dolphin show – it's an experience that will leave you awe-struck!

3. Explore the USS Lexington Museum

Step aboard the USS Lexington Museum and take a journey through history. This aircraft carrier turned museum offers guided tours that give visitors a glimpse into life on board during World War II. Explore the flight deck, climb into the cockpit of vintage aircraft, and learn about the brave men and women who served on this iconic ship.

4. Wander through the Art Museum of South Texas

Art enthusiasts shouldn't miss a visit to the Art Museum of South Texas. Located on the picturesque Corpus Christi Bay, this museum showcases a diverse collection of contemporary and traditional art. From paintings to sculptures, you'll find works by regional, national, and international artists that will inspire and captivate your imagination.

5. Taste Delicious Seafood at Snoopy's Pier

No trip to Corpus Christi is complete without indulging in some mouthwatering seafood. Head to Snoopy's Pier for a casual dining experience with a stunning waterfront view. Feast on fresh fish, shrimp, oysters, and other local delicacies while enjoying the sea breeze – it's an absolute treat for your taste buds!

6. Take a Stroll along the Corpus Christi Bayfront

Enjoy a leisurely walk along the Corpus Christi Bayfront and take in the scenic views. From beautiful parks to charming shops and restaurants, there's plenty to see and do along this waterfront promenade. Don't forget to snap some photos of the iconic Harbor Bridge – it's a perfect backdrop for your weekend getaway memories.

FAQs about A Weekend Getaway: Fun Things to Do in Corpus Christi

Q: How can I get to Corpus Christi? A: Corpus Christi has its own airport (Corpus Christi International Airport) with direct flights from major cities across the United States. Alternatively, you can also reach Corpus Christi by car

[manwalksintobar]

What Follows Us Now Must Soon Enough Be Carried // Dobby Gibson

To read the news of things both splendid and sad happening far from me today I had my computer keyboard whisper this coffee shop’s secret network password — pacific — and it clicked it was two years since I had seen the ocean and those I love who live near it. Like Dean, who could see the Bay from his bed but is now being kept alive in Texas by a box of valves and lithium batteries serving the functions of a human heart. The last time I saw him our bellies were filled with oysters and we were drunk in North Beach, which is where I can imagine Matthew now walks the hills with an endless twisting distorted Neil Young guitar solo traveling between his precision-engineered Chinese-manufactured ear buds. I don’t know whether Matthew listens to Neil Young, but I know what it sounds like when the fog pours around Coit Tower in the mid afternoon as you step inside a bar for a Sierra Nevada and a conversation about war or poetry. Matthew has written many beautiful and slightly tragic poems about my city, which he lived in just long enough to spend trapped in a cast. I never visited him once and in fact don’t know where he lived so I imagine it’s going to be difficult for you and probably him to believe that I miss him. But I was a little afraid of Matthew back then, and maybe still am, as I am often scared of people who are larger and more amazing than I, which feels like nearly everyone. I can’t drink beers at 3 p.m. very often or anytime soon live in San Francisco because I am trying to be a decent middle-class father, which requires living close to adequate schools and inexpensive consumer packaged goods. Many of my new best friends live as far from me as do my old best friends, like Amanda, who is rehabilitating an artificial steel hip she selected from a medical supply catalogue while sitting on her parents’ couch. Amanda says the hip feels like an ice cream headache in her leg. Dean says his box of heart valves feels like being followed by a cuckoo clock. That’s all I really know about how strange these things must feel though I was once chased by time. It was in Seoul, near Sinchon Station, where the sound of a second hand followed me and my wife as we walked with Mrs. Jeong, who had strapped a little girl who was not yet our daughter onto her back. She was carrying our future and my daughter’s future and my daughter’s past and now complete strangers feel the need to tell me that my daughter is “a lucky girl” forgetting or unaware that entire shelves of memoirs have been sarcastically titled Lucky Girl to awaken us to the horrible things we say to people who are just trying to be four years old. According to some of these books the presence of good fortune is something one has to decide for oneself, so today I thought about reaching for it without knowing what I was exactly supposed to grab, and I thought of that same afternoon in Seoul, which my wife and I spent as gentle imposters in Jogesi Temple. A woman prostrated herself next to us hundreds of times as a priest struck a gong and chanted things that felt as if they were about being human but also not and a small bird flew through the temple and kept landing on the Buddha’s giant golden shoulder. When I put my shoes back on I knew I would spend the rest of my life wondering many new things, including whether that bird was trapped in the temple or had been there all along by choice.

[pacexlikexaxghost]

Pearl smiles grimly at Valor's question. ❝No one can be content in a strict authoritarian caste system forever, not even those at the top. On the timescales of tens of thousands of years-nearly a hundred thousand years, actually was when all that happened- on that kind of time scale, absolutely no one can stay in their good graces forever.❞

Pearl honestly only knows of one non-Diamond gem even close to that old... and she doesn't like to think about her.

❝I sincerely didn't! The way organic life had been presented and explained to me was as nothing more than complex chemical reactions. Animate, certainly, but not capable of cognition.❞ She shakes her head. ❝What a blatant lie that was, in retrospect. The cognition of even non-sentient organic life is remarkable precisely because it came about naturally through chemical processes. No one engineered organic life to be able to think. They just can.❞

She pauses for a moment. ❝It was a human child that made me realize how wrong that was. Rose had... always had a fondness for organic life, from the very moment I met her. She was very high rank, so it was excused as a silly little hobby, her interest. I never took it seriously, including here on Earth.❞ She looks out to sea, and smiles. ❝It was pretty near here actually. Not this exact beach, but it was this peninsula. I was more or less waiting off to the side for Rose to finish- as I interpreted it at the time- playing with the humans, when a child approached me. I, obliviously, didn't speak their language at the time, and they certainly didn't know gem. We had no way of communicating, except...❞ She leans forward on her knees, fingertips against her gem, still smiling softly.

❝They handed me an oyster shell, and then pointed at my gem. I was stunned, genuinely. Not only was this child cognitive enough to recognize my gem as a pearl and connect it to oysters- which sounds simple but takes quite a few logical connections when you think about it- but also kind enough to give something to a complete stranger just because it reminded them of me.❞

It was the second moment that was a turning point. One of four very clear ones here on earth. The first Rose Quartz lie, that shell, the moment it turned from fantasy to a real fight, and of course, the faked shattering that was supposed to truly free her once and for all.

❝It is beautiful.❞ She smiles wistfully.

His description of sometimes missing Belos certainly strikes a chord too, beyond the comparison he intended for her missing the place. Does she not, even as she reviles Nacre, sometimes catch herself wishing the tender moments with her had been real? That what she claimed her intentions were was true. That she genuinely cared and was trying to prepare Pearl for danger.

It wasn't until she stopped being so afraid of Pink that she realized how afraid she was of Nacre.

She tries to keep Nacre from her mind all together because of how painful those memories are. It wouldn't be so excruciating if Nacre hadn't been gentle and kind at times.

❝It is difficult, at times, to separate the good from the bad in memory. Nothing is so black and white...❞

Nothing. Not even Rose.

She thought she knew that, had seen the darkest, saddest, most painful it got. Her rages, her petulance, the reckless forgetfulness...

Rose was not perfect, because nothing and no one is. If she can fondly remember Homeworld, and even long for some false reality from Nacre...

Then can she not take the bad from Rose in stride?

❝... I'm feeling better,❞ she says softly. ❝Thank you, Valor.❞

"They helped save the entire planet and the Diamonds still ended up killing them?" He rubbed his face. "God. I can't even say I'm surprised after you compared White Diamond to Belos because he would do that." Zero care whatsoever to the people under his command. Treating them only as tools, and if a tool no longer serves its function, it's replaced. Augh.

"You didn't even know we could be sentient? Titan, I'm glad you found out. They really don't want that getting out, huh?" If gems as a whole knew, and cared, they'd never be able to make a functioning colony again. "Do you know how much the war spread that information to gems on Homeworld?"

The way she just lit up at describing what the planet looked like made him smile softly. This was a far cry from how she'd been just minutes before. He knew talking about something else would help her feel better. "It sounds beautiful." The different court colors - those must relate to the different diamonds. But they weren't talking about the diamonds right now.

The smile turned a bit more sad when she mentioned missing it. "No, I . . . I get it, honestly. Maybe not as much about the place specifically, but . . . more than once I've found myself missing my time with Belos. It was horrendous, and I'd never go back, but . . . he was still family at the time, you know? Sometimes I just . . . I wish I could have changed his mind about the plan, but I know that even if I did, he wouldn't have changed how he treated me. It's good that I got away from him. But I can still miss him." Pearl didn't even know the worst of it yet. He'd told her that Belos would have hurt the Golden Guard enough, but she didn't know to what extent he did. At least, to what extent he did with Valor, anyway.

[iheartlexihoward]

vulnerable (pt 4) // fez

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: the rest of the week goes by slowly, long days spent missing him. when you find out he'll be at a party you were already planning on going to that night, things start looking a whole lot better.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: fez x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* cws: gun mention

this is part 4 of this series! find part one here / masterlist

i was in two minds about what to do with this one (i originally wrote this and pt 5 all as one part), but i felt like it was a lot more coherent if i chopped it in two. it made more sense as to me, this one feels almost like a lil interlude. i wanted to have chance to explore the mc's personal background, as well as go into fez's mind a little. i had a lot of fun with this one, as always please lmk your thoughts <3 pt 5 will be up v v soon

-------------------------------------------------------------------

You hadn’t seen Fez in person since then, but you’d spoken to him. It had made your day while you worked your dead-end nine to five to see your phone light up, Fezco’s name popping up.

From: fez :)

How’s the day goin

Miss u lil mama

Although you were out of high school, you hadn’t left. Your parents had sighed a little but not shown their full disappointment when you’d brought up the idea of a gap year.

You would never admit it, but it was partly because of him.

He wasn’t the only reason — God, you weren’t one of those people who based their entire life decisions around potential romances. But when you were in your senior year, and all the friends you had in the same grade were gushing over college choices, all you could think about was Fez sitting at the store thinking you’d left him behind.

You also just didn’t have a fucking clue what you wanted to do with your life. You were eighteen then, technically an adult, but nowhere near mentally. When you’d perused all the options you had laid out, all the things you could dedicate yourself to, you had to admit it felt kind of exciting. Like the world was your oyster.

But when you actually sat with it, imagining yourself alone in a dorm with everyone you knew hours away, the whole thing was suffocating.

Even if you went to a college nearby and commuted, what if you got too far in before you realized you’d chosen the wrong discipline? Then, you’d just be stuck with a useless degree you didn’t care about; along with a fucking mountain of debt.

These were the things you’d said to your mom and dad when they questioned why you didn’t think college was the right path for you. Although they didn’t really understand to begin with, they supported you.

And eventually, as you watched your best friends ship off one by one, you went and got a job behind a desk.

It wasn’t terrible, and the pay was good — you were saving up, you told yourself. Your coworkers were decent enough to get along with, albeit you being the youngest by far. Your days were steady most of the time, neither too busy nor slow. The routine was comforting.

You’d completed most of your work for the day when Fezco had texted you. Grabbing your phone, you promptly tapped out a reply. Usually you did the whole, ‘wait five to ten minutes so they don’t think you’re thirsty’, thing, but since that night you really didn’t care anymore. And even before, Fez always near instantly replied.

To: fez :)

it’s fineee i guess the usual haha

what about you

and i miss you a lot

From: fez :)

Not a lot going on rn I’m just at the store

Me and Ash were bored asf and just had a competition to see who could drink a McDonald’s sprite faster

Not my fuckin idea btw

To: fez :)

that’s fucked up fez

even more fucked up is i know you lost

Smiling down at the stupidity of your last messages, you were reminded of the fact that Fez was just a boy. He’d had to grow up so much faster than anyone should; it was easy to forget you two were the same age.

Fezco did everything he could to preserve Ash’s youth. Obviously it was impossible, and he’d never be the same as anyone else his age, but he wanted to allow him the time to be a kid he never had. He didn’t want him to end up where he was, lying awake at night thinking about the child self he was forced to leave behind.

Sometimes he even went so far as to wish he was a different person. That he was a normal boy with a normal family, living a normal life. He’d skate with his friends and play video games. He’d go to parties not to do business, but to relax and have fun. Maybe he’d even have gone to college — he was more than smart enough. He wouldn’t have to worry about things like getting raided, or shot, or Rue dying on his watch.

But he never let those thoughts take root. If all of it was the case, he wouldn’t have Ash. He wouldn’t have precious memories of his life with Grandma.

And worst of all, he wouldn’t have you.

Well… he didn’t know for sure. It was possible the two of you were out there somewhere in an alternate universe, one where he’d stayed in school. Maybe you’d have grown closer over the years, and he’d have eventually gotten the courage to ask for your number. Maybe he’d have taken you out on a real date, a nice dinner, and driven you up into the hills to watch the stars. Maybe he’d have kissed you in the moonlight.

But it was equally possible that, without those circumstantial threads pulling you together, you’d have just remained classmates. Friendly, but not quite friends. You’d speak in school, share a laugh every now and then, but overall stick to your own circles. And when high school finally came to an end, you’d go off to lead different lives, paths never again crossing.

Fez wouldn’t have traded any of it for the world, anyway. He liked your memories together, and the way everything had happened. It was special. It was yours, and not a soul could take it away from you.

When you’d kissed him that night, he couldn’t believe it was happening. That it was happening to him. Despite everything, he always expected Rue to one day turn up and off-handedly mention the new person you were seeing, or for you to enter a party he was at with someone on your arm. He’d prepared himself for having to watch you dance together and kiss passionately, resisting the urge to throw up.

But none of it ever happened. And then, suddenly, you were on top of him, kissing all the oxygen out of his lungs.

He’d always envied the way you were so much more able than him to be open. To be the first to reach out and touch him fondly, or express yourself through words in a way he couldn’t. (Granted, he didn’t understand how much psyching up it took on your end.) It was just that… closing off was programmed into him. But that kiss, that confirmation — it broke something in him down. Just a little.

It was so difficult to stop that night, but he knew you were right. It wouldn’t have been a good choice given everything going on in his head.

There was plenty of time for that anyway, and Fez was a patient man.

He’d been more than satisfied with the many honeyed kisses you gave before he had to go. He never even thought he’d be so lucky as to get that.

“There ya go, hun.” Lisa, the lady who sat at the desk next to you, placed a fresh coffee by your side. You lifted your eyes, shooting her a grateful look.

“Thanks.”

She took her seat and looked at you quizzically, a smile toying on her face as she brought her own mug up to her lips. “What’s got you smiling?”

You felt yourself blush slightly, tongue darting out to wet your lower lip. “Nothing.”

“Oh, come on! I saw you on your phone just now. Haven’t seen that look on you before.”

Saying nothing, you just pulled a coy face in response and shrugged dramatically, spinning your chair back round to face your computer.

“Is it a boy?”

You giggled and rolled your eyes. “You sound like my mother.”

“Is it a girl?”

“It’s neither! Am I not allowed to just feel happy?” you jested back. Right on time, your phone buzzed loudly, and you quickly snatched it away from her prying eyes without thinking. Lisa’s eyebrows raised and she chuckled, turning around to her own monitor.

“Neither, eh?”

You shot a wry smile her way and held your phone low, reading the replies under the table.

From: fez :)

Nah girl u know I won

Listen you and ur girls goin to that thing at Hayley Garcia’s tonight?

Imma be there and I wanna see you

Your heart slammed in your chest. You’d already planned on going the second your sister had brought it up, hoping Fezco would be making an appearance. Knowing he’d been thinking the same gave you butterflies. You read those words over and over. I wanna see you. I wanna see you. I wanna see you.

To: fez :)

yep we are!

i’m glad you’re going haha was kinda wishing you were

From: fez :)

Cool cool

Me too. Be seeing u later beautiful

Holy fucking shit.

That stupid party couldn’t come soon enough.