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georgemackayhey · 5 years ago

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Silver Lining: Chapter 3

In which you and George decide to make the most of life after meeting up at the wrong place at just the right time...

w/c: 4k

a/n: Listen I'm a sucker for some classic rom-com drama okay? How do YALL feel? Let me know your thoughts and things! ♡

taglist: @etherealallure @maria-josefin @shelbygirlsclubx @loulouloueh @clarkewithameme @haileymorelikestupid @weyheyavengers

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The first morning you woke up in Rome, you rose before the sunrise. After slipping into some comfortable shoes and graciously accepting a couple of complimentary breakfast muffins from the lobby of your hotel, you headed into the city with George on your heels.

You'd planned for an early morning tour of the Sistine Chapel, and the Vatican Museums so that you could enjoy the historic sites without being crammed in between too many other greedy, loud tourists.

George was quiet, but not unhappy. He wore a sleepy grin every time you looked over to make sure he was still there. Part of you was prepared to find he'd gone, at some point. But he was there as the sun was just over the horizon, while you queued up outside of the Chapel you'd been anxious to see for yourself forever. There was a chill in the air, but the excitement that buzzed through your system was all you'd had any sort of focus on.

A lovely young tour guide with long dark hair approached and explained in a thick accent that you'd be joined by seven other group members, two who had already been patiently waiting at her side. As the others joined, you and George were the youngest of your tour group by a couple of decades, at least. The others were an elderly couple, two middle-aged brothers, and a middle-aged woman who brought her parents along.

There were a very few other groups mingling ahead and behind yours, and it seemed like you had the whole massive place to yourselves. But every time you turned a corner, you seemed to float a little closer to George. You figured that you were so drawn to him because he was the most familiar thing you had in such a new, overwhelming setting.

Stepping foot into the Chapel exceeded every expectation. The tall, delicate works of art that made up the walls were hard to comprehend but easy to love and adore. For much of the tour, you wandered the halls in astonished silence, gazing to the wonders as our guide quietly explained details you would have never spotted otherwise.

You and George shared quiet gazes, and even a couple dulled bursts of laughter over what might have seemed like nothing to the few people around you. And your shared snickers usually were without reason. The laughter came like conversation, little pauses of shared time to simply confirm you were on the same page.

And when you looked all around George, every few feet your breath would catch in your throat as you turned your gaze to another stunning sight. Some images were soaked in rising sunlight, and others shone on their own. As much as you adored taking in all the sights, you found just as much wonder in your surprise travel companion.

George would take the time to gaze at every sculpture and painting with the same amount of curiosity and appreciation. You stood back, taking in the big picture while the other members of your group got close up and personal with a row of carved statues. You caught George lingering there, and laughed to yourself. He fit right in, with his delicately sculpted features.

The sight demanded to be photographed, with George's profile staring back into the marble eyes upon a pedestal. Luckily your guide had given the green light that the room you occupied was one of few you could use your camera in, so you did.

George was none the wiser while you gazed at him through your lense. As you stole the shot and tucked your phone away as if you'd never had it out, you moved to stand near him. You'd come to enjoy asking George's thoughts as you wandered through the Chapel, admiring his perspective of the beauty that surrounded the both of you.

You moved through the Vatican Museums immersed in the same awe, daring to share more fully formed thoughts with George all the while. And on the rare occasion, you could use your camera, you kept finding excuses to score a few odd candids of George roaming around, fitting in.

When you reached the end of the tour, lingering near a set of benches while everyone wondered how to move on with their day, George stole your phone from your grasp as you snapped a few shots of the place surrounded by dull blue skies. He demanded you say in place so he could take one of you, rambling about you'd want to capture a memory of your being where you were.

As he did, one of the older ladies who'd chatted with you and George throughout your tour swooped in and insisted on taking a photo of you and George together. She reached out for your phone, latching onto it before George had agreed, but if he wasn't keen, it didn't seem to put up much of a fight.

He moved to lean against the bit of railing you'd been relaxed against but you'd tensed up as he settled next to you.

George crossed his arms, turning slightly toward you, as you shrugged a little closer all the while. Then you looked at each other, sharing a "let's just roll with it" sort of expression, and that got you both chuckling again.

"Y'all are just too cute." The older woman cooed, handing your phone back to you as you lunged to take it back.

"Thank you." You noted simply because that's all you could do. There was no time to explain that George was only cute on his own and gracious enough to have accompanied you on this trip so you didn't feel as alone as you actually were.

Not long after, your tour guide appeared to thank you all for being so lovely and gave some directions and suggestions of where to go next. Most of everyone already seemed to have plans, but for once, you didn't. So you made George gaze at a map of the city, and pick your next destination. You didn't ask where he'd chosen when he started leading the way, you were just glad he was there to walk with.

As you left the Sistine Chapel behind, George kept his slow pace in time with yours, as you walked and talked. The pair of you had found yourselves in a deep conversation about art and history and what it meant to you.

George was using his hands to express himself and emphasize his ideas, which was something you hadn't really seen him do till then. His gestures suggested that what he spoke of was coming from a meaningful place. When he paused to ask you of your own ideas, you were simultaneously grateful for the space to speak, but missed hearing what he had to say and the way in which he said it.

Just as you started laughing over the topic of your impromptu photoshoot forced upon the both of you by a lady you'd never met, someone called out George's name. Well, his last name. You shared a bewildered look before turning to see what was up.

There was an older fellow walking toward the pair of you, with dark shiny sunglasses covering his eyes, and bright shiny teeth behind a stretched out smile.

George let out a chuckle that seemed more like a sigh of relief to you, as he greeted the stranger by what must have been his name. George barely took a breath before he used his already extended hand to place his fingers around your arm and introduce you by name, all the same.

As you reached out to shake the stranger's hand, George explained the guy was the director of one of his favorite films he'd ever been a part of.

The guy nodded to you, releasing your grasp. You realized then that George's hand was still delicately attached to your arm. But you forced your focus to the director, who explained he was in the city taking his kids on holiday. You hadn't even noticed the young boys hidden behind their father's legs until they peered up at you after the introduction.

George proceeded to let go of you and kneel before the children to greet them like old friends. One of the boys broke into a bashful grin while the other threw himself into a hug George reciprocated happily.

As your heart began to melt, you wrapped your arms around your waist and wondered how you'd ended up here. When George stood to finish sharing pleasantries with his old director friend, both men happily wished the other a safe and sound holiday. Before you knew it, the little boys were racing further down their street and their father dared off to catch up, vanishing into the horizon you could see waves of heat in.

"Only you would run into good friends on a random holiday. What's it like to be so popular huh?" You quipped after finding a steady pace that matched George's again. He gestured for you to turn a corner as he replied.

"I wouldn't know I don't check the internet." George let out a dry mocking, "ha ha." As you rolled your eyes and tried not to laugh. Before you could think up a reply, George's playful tone remained as he seriously stated,

"I'm much less exciting in real life than you seem to understand."

"Well, they do rave about you on the world wide web. Wouldn't you want to know what they say?" You asked, gazing toward him and watching his face as he listened to you.

"Would you want to hear about yourself from strangers all the time?" George looked to you as you walked, wearing a face that suggested he already knew your answer.

"Hell no." You let out a laugh. "I don't think I'd like what I hear."

"Why?" George seemed to curiously wonder as if he'd never expected that answer at all. You took a beat to wonder about George, then. How he was so easy to read but so hard to figure out.

"Oh, even I know I'm nothing to write home about. My fiance didn't even like me." You chuckled, turning another corner on the pavement in perfect time with George. He let out a laugh, shaking his head before he turned back to you with a reluctant smile.

"That was a good one..." He pointed. "But I'd heed you to stop dwelling on the negative and look on the bright side."

"And what have I got to be so chuffed about, then?" You smiled, asking just so you could hear things from his perspective, something you'd made a bit of a secret habit of.

"You're in Rome with me, the very famous movie star that the internet can't seem to get enough of." George joked with a silly shrug, picking up the pace and leaving you behind a few steps to throw your head back in laughter.

You ended up at another museum, as a lull in your conversation happened in perfect time. The doors to the building were closed, but there were folks of all kinds roaming the ground's gardens, having picnics and playing ball.

When George became entirely immersed in reading the plaques that told what the flowers in the winding garden were, you lingered across the way, slumped against a hundred-year-old tree to call your mother.

When she answered, she seemed flustered, as if you'd run away from home and were just calling to assure you were fine. And that's what you had to do for the first couple minutes of your call. Naturally, your mother had seven hundred versions of the same questions, largely revolving around George.

After firmly assuring her that your travel companion had been nothing short of purely delightful and kind, you forced your mother to listen to stories about the good time you'd had so far.

But then your mother brought up Collin. And the sound of his name alone made you sick to your stomach. You told your mother you didn't want to talk about any of that just then. That you'd come here for one last good time before you inevitably flew back home to your sad little flat all alone.

Your phone was dying anyway, so you promised your mother to call back in a day or two and assured one last time that you were alright. But as you spoke those words, you wondered for a beat if you were only trying to convince yourself.

After choosing a place to find dinner, George led the way once more. You followed in what you hoped was a comfortable silence. The conversation with your mother left a lot on your mind, most thoughts unavoidable. You'd remained quietly trying to sus them out as you ventured to a bistro with candles in the window and lace cloths on the tables.

When you sat down, George asked what was on your mind. You realized then, when he asked, why he was such a good actor. George had a bevy of tones and micro-expressions to fit every sort of mood and moment. You didn't think he was pretending to use them now, you just understood that he was able to read the room and respond in a deadly accurate way.

So since his tone made you feel at ease and his gaze made you believe he wanted to know your real answer, you told him about the chat you'd had with your mother, back at the garden.

After you placed your orders and settled comfortably into the hardback chairs, George said.

"Okay, so you've told me how the conversation went. But how do you feel about it?"

You laughed at first because the only sort of people who'd ever asked you anything like that were paid professionals. But There George was, with his kind yet stoic expression, urging you to be honest.

Luckily you'd decided to order a bottle of wine, so you poured yourself a generous glass and rambled for a while about how confused you were. How lovely you found it to be here, how utterly grateful you were to have someone to share each passing moment with.

The conversation shifted into sharing your favorite bits of the day, between glasses of wine. You laughed about something one of the old men in your tour group kept saying, and wondered if you'd ever see anything more breathtaking like the Sistine Chapel ever again in your lifetimes.

George rose his brow, wordlessly giving away his hopeful assuredness that more indescribable beauty would drift into his world. He filled his mouth with wine as you shrugged off the thought, doing the same.

When you'd polished off the bottle you ordered another cocktail to celebrate the last evening in Rome. George decided against it but was happy to hold a conversation as you kept drinking. He'd taken the chance to ask you more questions than he'd been giving his own answers for, but you shifted gears, begging him to share funny stories from his past and favorite song lyrics.

As you finished your cocktail, you realized you should have left it when the room started spinning. George tried to pay for dinner, again, but you demanded to split the bill evenly when he refused to sit back and let you take care of it all.

He held out a hand to help you down the steps of the restaurant, much to your delight. You were drunk, but not in the usual fun, "let's party" kind of way. Sure, the alcohol-fueled a few extra giggles back inside, but as you stood to wait for a cab, you felt less than stellar.

When you managed a taxi, George gave the driver directions as you hung your head in your hands. Why did you drink so much in the midst of so many mixed-up feelings? Your stomach was fine. Your head was not.

The ride was silent, but your thoughts were loud. When you felt George rest a hand near the base of your neck, his warm gentle touch grounded you enough for you to let out a tiny sigh of thanks. But as you remained in this position, your thoughts grew more boggled as you wondered why George was next to you, soothing you, giving you the time of day. He could have been anywhere he wanted. He shouldn't have come, you shouldn't have invited him.

Because when George decidedly kept a hold around you on your trek through the crowded lobby, you realized that you were totally depending on him. And that scared the everliving shit out of you.

And as you made it to the staircase, you heard the sweet young front desk woman call out, "Goodnight you two!"

You couldn't thank her. You didn't have time to explain that you and George were existing in different realities. You just let yourself hang on to his arm as you made your way up and over to the room you were sharing.

You took more time to take a few deep breaths in the bathroom than the time it took you to change and wipe off your make up.

After George had his turn, and eased into the small bed next to your side, he'd managed to maintain the sliver of space that belonged between the two of you.

"I'm sorry if I killed the vibe tonight." You quietly croaked, fixing your gaze on the ceiling, too nervous to look right at him this close up.

"You didn't kill anything. I'm sorry you feel so bad, though."

"Thanks for today. And everything." You spoke. If you were any drunker, you might have cried. But with all your years of training to keep your emotions from slipping out so easily, you didn't. But you were drunk enough to forget how nervous-looking right at George this close made you feel. When your eyes met, his seemed to have already studying your face.

You were too lost in awe of his closeness to say anything more, and George seemed to understand that there was nothing more to be said anyway. Instead, he dared to reach into the space between you, to grab ahold of your hand.

George let his fingers rest across yours, as he peered to you, the lower half of his face hidden behind the sight of your fingers weakly pressed back against his.

Before either of you got the good sense to let go, you drifted to sleep.

___

You'd had your share of one night stands, waking up in different places with people you barely remembered meeting let alone spending an evening with. But you'd never felt the way you did before when you woke up in Rome for the second morning in a row.

George's hand was still loosely rested atop your own, neither of you having moved much in the night. You sucked in a deep breath and held it while you slipped your fingers away from his. George didn't budge when you darted to grab a change of clothes and get ready for the day.

But as you spun around toward the bathroom, for as slowly as you could blink, you let your gaze fall to George. His crisp white shirt camouflaged between wrinkled white sheets. His soft tousled hair falling in his eyes that stayed closed to dream. His warm strong hand, rested in the middle of the mattress where yours had disappeared from underneath.

When time no longer stalled and you locked yourself in for a shower, and still couldn't understand your feelings. This was your last morning in Rome and there wasn't enough time to enjoy the city that surrounded you. You'd never planned to take longer than a day discovering the capital because Collin had wanted to spend as much time in Barcelona as possible.

The only plans you'd made in advance for today, were sulking back to the airport. You had been dreading this moment, saying goodbye to the place you'd barely had time to explore. But as you cleaned yourself up, you weren't as sad as you thought you might have been. You were strangely at peace with the memories you'd made. Though a dull ache hammered in your heart, doing its best to get you to mourn your time, you couldn't help but smile over how well you'd managed your precious stay.

But as you changed into your clothes, a different dread crept through your system. You were happy. But was George? He could have been anywhere in the world he wanted, but he chose to keep up with you. Had he felt obligated to tag along? You realized that before you left the hotel, that you had to assure George that he didn't have to be here, even if you desperately wanted him to be. Even if you'd miss him when he inevitably left, no matter when that time came.

"George, you know you don't have to stick around. I know I asked you to, but-"

"We've made it this far haven't we?" He grinned, cutting you off and moving his elbow to nudge you as he threw things into his travel bag.

You heaved a defeated sigh and raised a finger that meant you were serious when you said, "Fine. But you're picking out things you want to do for the rest of this week."

"Off we go then, come on!"

The lobby was just as busy as ever while you waited to check out in a line behind a few other families. George was quiet by your side. It was a time when others might have checked their emails or scrolled through Tinder. But George stood, letting his gaze fall across the room, soaking up the last bits of your time here.

When you'd successfully checked out and wished the sweet front desk woman well, she parted ways by saying, "enjoy the rest of your honeymoon!" Because you'd obviously booked the package in advance. But the lobby was too busy and there was no time to explain, so you just thanked her and meandered out into the street.

"Yes, how are you enjoying your honeymoon?" George asked playfully, following your lead toward a row of cabs down the way.

"I always thought I'd be married first." You shrugged.

"Me too." George laughed and you laughed too. The pair of you talked about how this would be the perfect story to save for your great great grandchildren- a tale so unbelievable that your children would tell their grandkids that "grandma is lying, stuff like that only happens on tv."

You held your tongue from joking about Georges celebrity, and how that must have been the only reason this wild idea worked in any capacity. Because you didn't want to imagine he'd drop everything to spend a week with any old stranger, even if he was capable.

And when you made it to the airport, George tugged on your sleeve when you started to wander the wrong way. When your hand slipped into the crook of his arm with an excuse about how you'd hate to get lost in the crowd, you realized something terrible. You realized that you just didn't want to stray far from George. You realized you were bummed to let go as you settle into your seats on the plane.

You swallow your feelings deep down, chalking them up to confusion as you mourned the loss of the only romance you'd ever known. You reminded yourself that this trip was supposed to be a fun, carefree fling and that you were lucky beyond belief to have someone willing to sit next to you during every stop. There was no sense in ruining a good thing by addressing your feelings that would surely change as soon as they blossomed.

When the plane took off, you reminded yourself that the last time you'd experienced this, you were fine and there was no need to feel any less fine, now. But as a means to distract yourself from the roar of the engine and the speed at which you ascended into the sky, you asked George a question. His answers had yet to let you down.

You noticed he'd pulled out that old creased paperback book, and he was flipping to find the page he never bookmarked. You asked what the story was about. After giving you one of his famously curious gazes, a smile turned up at the corner of his lips as George read aloud from the paragraph he'd been in the middle of.

"Are you a mad man?" You laughed, wondering why he wouldn't just explain the plot, or at the very least read from the beginning.

"Fine then, here you have a go." George countered, handing you the collection of crumpled pages.

And you weren't too sure exactly what he was offering, but the next thing you knew, you were reading his paperback novel from the start. You spoke slowly and quietly, turned in toward him so you wouldn't disturb your fellow passengers. George settled back against the seat with his fingers clasped in his lap, and his head turned slightly toward yours, to listen.

When you'd reached the end of the first chapter, you held a thumb in between the pages so you wouldn't lose your spot when you looked up to ask George another question.

"Have you thought about what you'd like to do when we get to Barcelona?" You wondered. George turned his head all the way so he could peer over to you as you slumped against the seat, looking right in his eyes. For a moment, you were reminded of your first plane ride together. How his gemstone eyes gazed calmly into yours, in the midst of all your apprehension. His expression was just the same now. It was familiar.

"Casa Batlló?" George rose a brow, like a boy asking to stop somewhere on the ride home from school. "La Boqueria, and of course a cooking class or two."

"All of that is already on my list!" You quipped, batting the book in your clutch against George's arm on the armrest below.

"Good thing too, since that's what I'd like to do."George grinned. You couldn't tell if he was serious or just genuinely didn't mind going through with everything you'd already thought up.

"Now, I believe we have time for another chapter," George flicked his eyes from his book in your possession and then gazed back up to you as he settled deeper against the seat of the plane. With the shake of your head and a submissive smile, you turned another page and spoke up.

___

On the plane, between chapters of "This Side Of Paradise", you and George made rough plans to order room service and crash in the nearest bed so that you could wake up early and explore the whole day tomorrow.

By the time you'd landed in Barcelona, hailed a cab and made it inside of the expansive and baron lobby of the hotel you'd booked months in advance, you were exhausted.

George guarded your bags near a wall-length fish tank, while you went to check-in. You gave the mellow looking man behind the granite desk your information as his expression grew weary behind the screen on his laptop.

"Oh, will you be joining the guests who've checked out room 500?"

"No." You furrowed your brow. "I need to check into room 500." You explained, relying a bit more personal information about your reservation to ease the misunderstanding.

But the desk attendant shifted his gaze from you to his laptop and back to you again with a pout that bloomed into a frown before he spoke:

"I'm sorry, ma'am but... this reservation has already been accepted."

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#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic

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fredheads · 4 years ago

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okay.... 😳 so tell me about fred's mental health pretty please......

always.... 🥰

ok so as i’ve mentioned oscar was weirdly mentally healthy. like absolute neurotypical child with good coping mechanisms and normal stress levels. and artie was all chuffed and proud of him and then fred came along and was very different from oscar and that drove these small wedges between them where artie was really just balking at having a kid who he couldn’t completely understand after having a kid that he really understood the first time. (this is going to turn into a discussion of artie and freds relationship I know it)

i think as a teen freds mental health kind of yo-yoed all over the place... and don’t get me wrong he was an overwhelmingly happy, friendly, open kid but he wasn’t that 24/7. for one thing he was just emotional and intuitive and that was what really spooked artie most of the time. fred would have these big fears and existential dreads that oscar never had - he would go to protests and raise a big stink about the environment and even as a little boy have these worries and questions about the world and things that were bigger than him in a way oscar just didn't have. and a lot of these questions were about himself - his sexuality, his gender/gender presentation, and artie just wouldn't touch that with a ten foot pole he just turned the other cheek because that stuff rly scared him.

but also when fred was low he was LOW. he would get depressed in a way oscar wouldn't. and he could stake his whole heart on something and when it didn’t work out it would feel like a personal failure. oscar and artie could just brush stuff off and rationalize it but fred would mope and cry. a lot of this scared artie and he started telling fred he was acting like a girl and to stop it, and kind of what he was really saying was that fred was too emotional and sensitive. fred also had body image issues (I wanna talk about yall know what so bad but I will refrain) that artie just couldn't understand whatsoever and he got told to stop acting like a girl over that too.

artie just wanted fred to pull himself up by the bootstraps and hard work the pain away like he always did and they clashed a lot over that. fred was obviously never diagnosed with anything but I think he was dealing with some depression even then and definitely addiction if we indulge that plotline and just a lot of stuff was kind of rearing its head in cycles and he’d go from too disciplined and kind of euphoric to normal and thriving to messy and upset and it was kind of this cycle where nothing was super bad but he was definitely not going through the chill easy time oscar had.

anyway then I think after arties death ironically fred was in more pain than he’d ever been in but he did go through the whole bootstraps thing where he just flung himself into working to support his mom. and he was HELLA depressed (this is also after fp left for the army........ and oscar died too if we’re using my timeline....) don't get me wrong. everything was gray and meaningless but he just kind of leaned into his ability to discipline himself and got through it as best he could as much as it hurt.

but that’s not sustainable forever and I think there were some REALLY dark years during that period where he was more depressed than he knew was possible and had to start to come to terms with the fact that this was something that was a part of him. i think maybe around the time he and mary were coming back together.... it had been 4 years or so since fp left and everyone else had left him or moved on with their lives but when he saw mary he felt this love and happiness that was missing most of the time... but he definitely had a breakdown or two in front of her telling her if they got married this was what she was getting and he wasn't the same person he was in high school he didn't even know that person anymore....

and then things got better after archie but he also never dealt with those years properly or any of the shit he was still feeling about his relationship with his dad and all the complicated feelings that arose out of that and he just kinda went back to working and working and living the life his dad carved out for him ironically and he never had a choice abt building houses and stuff... and I kinda cling to that scene from season one as showing us that fred rly is dealing with depression as an adult and he deserved to have it acknowledged 😤😭

anyway those are my many thoughts I'm sorry if they don't make sense and are 99% headcanon that's just what u get here

#fred andrews #Anonymous

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omoghouls · 5 years ago

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request- a ghoul is desperate on the way to the next show, the drive will be hours and they're too embarrassed to tell anyone. they're so desperate they seem sick so the others keep giving them water. they get to a point where they're quietly sobbing and shaking as they spurt & eventually let go onto themselves getting the seats and floor wet as well as their clothes

(Yall know when given the opportunity that ghoul of choice is spesh 😂)

The gentle purr of the engine caused the ghoul to stir from his slumber. Special groaned as he rolled to his side, green eyes snapping open as he felt his body beginning to roll off. His tail whipped around as the ghoul rubbed at his face, looking around confusedly when he saw the small couch behind him.

"Morin' sleeping beauty."

Special looked to the seated body opposite to his.

"What, what time is it?" He sleepily mumbled as he clawed his way back onto the couch.

Omega glanced to his covered wrist, "Eh, quarter past 'you missed breakfast and the meeting'," the larger ghoul said.

"Why the fuck didn't anyone wake me up?" Special ask, running his clawed fingers through his short locks, a concerned look in his eyes.

Omega shrugged, "You were fast asleep there, haven't seen you that deep into a slumber in months, didn't wanna wake you," he mused, " 'sides wasn't even really a meeting, Papa just had a group talking to about sticking to curfew."

The smaller ghoul's shoulders slumped, "Still would've been nice to go with y'all."

Omega chuckled, "Well do not worry, you've still got that shitty cereal you like and all of us breathing down eachother necks 'til we get to the next state," he gave, patting Special's back, his hand lingering down as the ghoul stood up.

"You act like that's a punishment to me," he chuffed, walking to the small countertop, pouring water into the kettle before turning it on.

[[MORE]]

"If you can handle 12 hours of Alpha's practicing and Air crpytic-ness, then I'm calling you a saint."

Special poured the hot water into the mug, "Then I supposed I'd have to be banished from the clergy."

The two laughed, letting themselves relish in the stillness and silence in the bus.

"So, where is everyone else?" Special asked as he placed his empty mug in the sink.

"Final wanderings 'round the place, washroom breaks-"

"Things still busted?" Special interrupted, jutting his thumb towards the small washroom door.

Omega nodded, "Said it'd be fixed when we get into Denver, sink still works though."

Special made a slight face as he came back to sit with the other ghoul, "Remind me not to wash my hands in there again," he smiled, ears perking up when the chittered voices of the other ghoul's neared close.

12 hours on the bus didn't seem too bad. It would give the spokesghoul ample time to think through possible interview questions and see how the others were.

The ghoul stretched his legs that had been tucked under him out after the idle hours of finishing up certain paper work styled clergy duties. Despite being on a bus thousands of miles away, the work was never over.

Special paused in his movements when a firmiliar taut sensation became all too noticeable in his lower abdomen. The ghoul chewed on his lower lip, it wasn't too bad, yet. He glanced around, his eyes settling on the passing signs and blurred billboards. Surely they were in need of a pit stop soon, he could wait it out until then.

Special's brow raised as he watched them drive past the gas station.

"We aren't stopping?" He questioned aloud

"Guess it ain't bus accessible," a voice gave.

The earth ghoul plopped down besides the spokesghoul, " 'sides, we've only been on the road for three hours."

Special's heart sank slightly, bus time never was the same as linear time.

Earth tilted his head as he watched the seemingly disappointed expression from the other ghoul, noting the slightest flushing over his cheeks.

"You all right, Spesh?"

The ghoul glanced away for a split second as he thought of something to say.

"Oh yes, perfectly, perfectly fine just," he swooped his head down, "just a bit uh, carsick, bus sick in this situation I guess."

A little white lie, no harm no fowl.

The earth ghoul nodded slowly, the slight suspicion was pushed to the side at the notion of one of his own being unwell. The ghoul held a clawed finger up as he leaned over, pulling a bottle of water and placing it on the spokesghoul's lap.

Special looked to the bottle then back to the earth ghoul.

"It'll help with the nausea, 'least that's what Papa said one time," Earth explained as he picked up the bottle once more, unscrewing the lid, holding it out.

There was hesitancy before the ghoul took hold of the water bottle, setting it to his lips and taking a small sip.

Earth raised a brow, "Think you could handle a bit more there? A bird sip wont help you."

No. No he couldn't.

"Oh uh, yeah," Special mumbled between the lid before tiliting his head back, taking a larger swig; wincing as the water settled in his stomach, but, how long would it stay there?

Special sat the nearly finished drink on the floor, wiping away the excess on his chin, glancing over to the earth ghoul.

Earth gave a nod of approval, lightly patting Special's leg before standing up, "Good, just try and take it easy and rest up."

The spokesghoul bit back a groan as he leaned his head back.

This was going to be a long ride.

The hours felt as if they just continued to drag on longer and longer with each passing of blurred road signs. Special rubbed at his eyes, glancing to the book he had long since abandoned. He crossed his ankles as he moved his hands to his sides, gripping lightly at the seat cushion.

It was no longer a nuisance he could brush off, his bladder ached, skin tautly pressed against his slacks.

Special shifted in his seat for the unknownth time in that hour. His ears twitched at the sound of the washroom door clicking open.

He knew he could simply do as the others were so freely doing; pee in the sink and be done with this growing issue. However, sometimes in him stopped him each time he started to stand.

He was one of the elder ghouls on the bus, he of all ghoul's should have better control of his body and be able to wait.

Idly, Special footed the near empty bottle, the thought crossed his mind more than once since he had been made to drink it's contents.

Too much of a hassle, a mess and the others would know exactly why he was shuffling back to the bunking area with an empty bottle.

The ghoul felt eyes on the back of his neck, slowly he turned to come face to face with the Omega ghoul.

"Eveything okay? Been missing your chatterboxing."

"Yes. I'm fine," he said, perhaps a bit more curt than intended.

Omega squinted, "Don't sound find to me, Earth mentioned you were feeling a bit woozy, still feel that way?"

Special squirmed as he nodded slowly, "A bit, yeah."

"Why don't you lay down? Others wouldn't mind."

Special shook his head, knowing that if he were to move so much of an inch it would be game over.

"No? Okay how about some more water? Been a while since you last drank," Omega mused as he swiped the bottle beneath Special's foot.

Special's eyes widened at the thought of even attempting to fit a drop extra into his overly filled bladder.

"N-no thank you, it's alright, I just need t-to sit." Special weakly gave, tail curling around his ankle as he spoke, desperately trying to keep his composure.

"I'll get it for ya, think I still got some filtered water in there," the bigger ghoul said as he stood up, rummaging through the mini fridge, despite the small noises of protest coming from the smaller ghoul. He placed a container on the counter before pulling himself back up, walking back to the couch.

Omega began to pour the water into the bottle, the liquid echoing between the plastic bottle.

It was too much for the spokesghoul. Special let out a yelp, hands shoving between his thighs, shuddering frame as he doubled over, chittering anxiously as his bladder gave in.

The other's attention was drawn to the ghoulish noises spouting from the spokesghoul, just barely audible over the hissing noise that as well came from the ghoul.

The warm urine pooled around his seated body, what wasnt absorbed by the fabrics of his clothing or couch slowly dribbled into the floor, collecting into a small puddle.

A hushed silence washed over the bus as the stream finally tapered off, leaving Special's quivering, panting breaths to fill the silent air.

He wanted nothing more than to just hide. However, there was no such thing on a bus. Special's eyes locked onto the glistening puddle beneath him.

"Spesh?" Omega finally broke the silence.

Special sniffled, dryly swallowing around the growing lump in his throat.

"Why didn't you go? I know the sink isn't the most appealing," he asked, sitting beside the smaller ghoul.

He shrugged,lifting his shoulders to his ears, "I-I wanted to be able to ho-hold it," Special finally gave, "I'm sorry," his voice cracking.

Omega shook his head, gently tilting the others chin to face his, "Hey, it's okay, buddy. Happens to the best of us, don't think anyone else here hasn't pissed themselves before?" He paused, "It's alright, no ones upset, just glad you're feeling better."

Special leaned into the touch, exhausted from the hours long hold.

"How 'bout we get you cleaned up before you fall asleep huh?" The bigger ghoul said as he stood, helping the other to his feet.

Special nodded, pressing his face into the others chest as they walked into the back to grab the spare uniforms.

He was fortunate for such understanding bandmates.

#omorashi #omocute #nsfc #nameless ghouls #special ghoul #omega ghoul #m #OMG IM SORRY FOR HOW LATE THIS IS A A A

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rk-1k · 6 years ago

Note

I would honestly love some sugar daddy Markus and sugar baby connor info, like writing or headcanons, I am t h i r s t i n g

i accidentally pressed refresh and now im mourning the first draft of this list of headcanons

- markus doesnt like to be called sugar daddy

- he is not a sugar daddy

- he likes to help

- north needs to stop calling him a sugar daddy

- connor embraces the sugar baby culture. after all, he was created to be… adaptable

- markus likes doting on people ! alright ? it’s just that sometimes he and connor fuck

- north was initially grumpy and sus but now, well, she accepts it with open arms

- due to the fact that connor is attentive. he brings them doughnuts every thursday at three pm sharp, and he’s got their coffee orders memorised. talk about being the best person ever

- connor likes visiting markus at his workplace

- he doesnt like it when people judge him and talk in whispers, thinkin he can’t hear them calling him a gold digger

- simon’s logical about it all. he’s like “yo markus u sure u wanna be spending all ur money on ur newly acquired twink .. i mean u do u, but…”

- markus is like “no buts. buddy, he’s the one”

- josh also likes connor. he likes anyone who is kind enough to bring coffee to not only the four of them but also to the other staff

- connors like his sugar baby but also the love of his life

- but they’re not there yet. they’re still not communicating about the truth of their emotions towards each other.

- hank’s really chuffed about it, he thinks it’s hilarious that connor got himself into this shindig

- only connor can suddenly end up as someone’s sugar baby and own it

- whenever markus gives him shit connor enthusiastically thanks him for it and flaunts whatever markus gave him

- markus had one of connor’s quarters fitted with a sapphire in the middle and then put on a silver chain.

- connor loves it ? he only wears it on special occassions

- like when he’s posing nude for markus to paint

- yall know what i mean. the french girl painting scene in titanic

#keep talkin #rk1k #rk1000

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marshmarrowsans · 6 years ago

Text

Slumberland

I was originally writing this as a headcanon to submit anonymously, then it became a shot imagine, then a full drabble. Hope you like it all the same, even if I’m pretty late lol.

You’re warm, pleasantly so, as your eyes open to a bedroom awash in twilight. Your senses come back to you one by one, as you wake. You hear the rain pattering on the roof and window, you feel that the air in the room has chilled against your face. And most importantly, your blankets warm against you as you turn onto your side, and see Sans’ sleeping face greeting you.

You smile, reach out, and brush his visage with the back of your fingers, mapping back to gently scratch your nails on the back of his skull in affection, he snuggles closer and into the comforter in response. You continue to pet him quietly. Almost lulling yourself back to sleep from the soothing back and forth motion, and the smoothness of bone.

Until, you hear an new sound. Soft, and… Droning? You’ve never heard it before, but The Sound is…

Familiar? You wonder if you’re still dreaming for a moment. It’s almost a hum, but, you’re not sure?

You pause your movement and listen for it intently, but just like it started, The Sound stopped, with seemingly no explanation.

Sans shifts closer with a groan as you blink and scan the room, but it doesn’t take long for the moment to pass.

You hear nothing but rain, soft breathing, and the occasional sound of a car driving by.

The Sound is gone.

All seems as it should be, in this small sanctuary.

Shrugging it off as nothing, you ponder that perhaps your ears were just adjusting to the air pressure. You finally snuggle closer to your boney boyfriend in response to his own stirring, lightly running your fingers over his skull once more, and wonder if you should attempt waking him, or soothing him back to deeper sleep.

You decide on the latter as you find yourself falling into a rhythm again. You both had the day off, you could afford to relax a bit longer.

Just as your eyelids are dropping again, The Sound registers in your ears and brain once more, and this time, louder.

You blink your eyes open again as your brow knits in confusion.

Is…

Is The Sound coming from Sans?

You stretch your head closer to his face, feeling his breath fan over you. It smells of calcium and something sweet, but that wasn’t the sense you were looking for.

Though, you didn’t really need to look for it at all, as The Sound got ever so softly louder the closer you stretched.

Odd. Was it his soul? Normally it’s hum was… Different though. The note of this was too low in comparison to what you normally heard from it, when it’d shine through his shirt.

It still seemed to be coming from his chest though. And as you absently swiped your thumb back and forth across his temple in thought, it seemed to stutter. It sounded almost similar to a motor sputtering, but settled into smooth rumble, and you realized what The Sound acually was.

Sans, was purring.

God, what did you do to deserve such an adorable partner?

You stifled a giggle, awed and giddy. It felt like you discovered something new about him every day, and you loved it.

You loved discovering him.

You close the final bit of distance between you two, and tuck him under your chin. You didn’t hesitate to use the position to your advantage to stroke your hands across his skull and down his spine. Curious if you could make him purr even louder.

He did, as he wrapped his arms around you, almost chuffing as he nuzzled into you.

You were going to tease the hell out of this little skeleton when he finally woke up.

You wonder, as you yawn and begin to drift, if he’d like a nickname relative to a cat, like Cheshire, considering how well it fits now.

…Only if he gets to call you Hatter, or Alice, or any number of characters, you’d guess. As you finally allow youself to fall back into slumber.

Omg... yall people sendin me not one... but TWO full-on drabbles! And a BUNCH of supportive, sweet asks! Just bc I said I was a little sad!! Can I just say this is one of many moments that goes to show how awesome the UT fandom is?? Like you all are so compassionate. This would’ve never happened in any other fandom I’ve been in. I adore you guys. And I adore this fic. Really simple fics that are just about how cute Sans is, and how in love he and his s/o are, will always be my favorite. I’m not a fan of long fics, or drama. All I really wanna read anymore is established relationship fluff or confessions of love, and this is some QUALITY established relationship fluff. I love the idea of Sans purring like the big chubby cuddly cat he is.

#marshmarrow chat #mod kasha #fave #BIG fave #kasha's bad day #submission

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knowingoverseer · 3 years ago

Text

==>

[Part 2]

Meenah ‘Minerva’ Makara was a patient troll, even as a human. But when the reaction to breaking her sweeps of ghosting is trying to jump off the knock-off Eiffel Tower to get away from her, yeah, she’s going to be a little grumpy. “W)(AT THE FUCKING )(ELL CALLIE?” Yanking the younger troll-turned-human back onto the platform by the scruff of her sweater, Meenah found herself yelling right in her face and god- she looked terrified. Like she’d seen a literal ghost, or well. Something maybe more scary, like a vampire or a zombie? The girl’s dealt with enough ghosts. Twisting and turning Callie was trying to get out of her grip but Meenah was easily holding on to her. After a deep calming breath she tried again. “no reely what the shell, stardust, its just me. im only tryin to see ya a minute.” “yeah bUt why? minerva it’s been years! years! yoU told piper yoU wanted nothing to do with Us anymore remember? with me! no offence bUt some warning woUld have been nice!” Meenah finally lets go of the sweater, afraid Callie was going to wiggle out of it, but gets ready to chase if she takes off again. Thankfully Callie just backs up into the tower wall, again trying to put distance between them. She looks chuffed, which is just as well, the feeling was mutual. “oh bo--o ho--o it aint pike back when you didnt know where i was or anyfin, seriously stop makin this a bigger deal than it already is. im tryin to mend a bridge here!” “i’m sorry! i wasn’t aware there was a bloody bridge to be mended! yoU jUst decided we were all too mUch to bother ever coming back to!” A fist slammed into the wall next to Callie’s head, and Meenah loomed over her in a way that sent a fear she hadn’t had in sweeps run down her spine. “yeah and i stand by that. yall were too much, and again, i thought you fucks were DEAD till i came back for my stuff and lo--ok at the damn mess you was in, stardust, that whole lady english bullshit. i wasnt aboat to go back to my old life dealin with yoar fuckery after all that bullship with the sanctum-” Callie flinched at the word, “not when i had found my peace. espsholey after he showed up again. you reely think i coulda handled going back?” Pushing back away from the wall Meenah gave Callie some distance, taking calming breaths. No it wasn’t Callie’s fault she stayed away but by Arceus she wasn’t helping things. “my dum-bass kid didnt even put it together i ever left, stardust, why would i a gone back?” For Callie’s part, she looked extremely uncomfortable. None of this was particularly news to her, but everything had been relayed through her Sprite, Pip. The mentions of ‘him’ and her sister still didn’t seem to weigh well on her. Honestly she looked like she was going to attempt escaping again. Fuck, this wasn’t what Meenah came here to do. “lisfin, does it matter why im breakin my silence between us? its yoar wrigglin day callie and im tryin to wish ya a good one.” “again yoU coUld have jUst, idk, messaged me or something? listen it’s- it’s good to see yoU, meenah- minerva, really, it is. i’m glad yoU seem to be alright. yoU- yoU look well-” Callie raised her hands placatingly, she was inching toward the door now. “which is somefin i cant say foar you, gill.” Cutting her off, both verbally and physically, Meenah shot forward the close the door. “which is also parta why im here.” This caused Callie pause, that was harsh but. Oh? For an awkward moment they just stared at each other. “.... okay?” “whale look at you! callie when was the last time you actually went out- not here boat like, out, with a friend, oar to treat yoarself or- i dont know!” Meenah gestures out toward the city. “i go oUt! i see friends! well, a friend! Um. Uh... i think i last went oUt early october? to see a movie, with serket.” Callie bit her lip, knowing what was coming next. This, this was why she was on such bad terms with Pip and Meenah as of late. She braced herself for the rebuttal. “exactly. over a month ago, an ya only got that one friend and you arnt even sayin much to her now-a-days huh.” Meenah’s response was a lot softer than she was expecting, and also, not what she was expecting to hear. “stardust lisfin, take it from the queen of issholeation hershellf, you dont want to cut yoarshelf off- yourself off from everyone you care about. rebuilding a social network is tough but as long as youve got someone in yoar corner you can. im worried youre just gonna. stop. stop tryin. youve been livin like one a yoar scary alts doin fuck all boat play video games and copy bo--oks together foar way to--o long now. pips told me, chess told her, were all worried cal.” Callie was apparently speechless, because she was just letting Meenah ramble. At some point she slid down the wall, sitting down on the grated floor. “you know i dont trust yoar friend boat if shes who you got, fuck it, you should try an sea her moar.” “she’s bUsy! i see her, when i can... besides it’s not healthy to pUt that kinda expectation on serket. i need to branch oUt-” “you do,” “-i... i jUst. i.... don’t know how! it’s not like when i first started meeting people, when friends of friends coUld be friends- or bro pUshing others into spaces where interacting was inevitable! i- i scare people off. i fUck Up relationships before they can even start! i scared a literal trickster god away becaUse i coUldn’t shUt Up! it’s not fUnny!!” Trying to control her snorting, Meenah shakes her head, waving, “no- no yoar right its not. sorray, no its not funny and i said itd be hard. boat for right now i think bein able to lean on a friend to keep ya from fallin overboard aint a bad thing.” Meenah reaches down to give Callie a hand, but for a few moments Callie stares at the red spade tattoo on her palm. “oh that ol’ thing? ill tell ya aboat it over coffee.” She pulls the smaller woman to her feet, dusting her off. “so heres an idea. sea if serket would be alright keepin you in that haunted cabin a hers over the holidays. youd be better off outta the hive, i think. and hey, thats a literal dream vacay foar some.” “why do you keep trying to push me off on serket? yoU lot have been on my case aboUt her for- fUck, years now at this point!” “yeah, callie, because shes jarvis little creation- ugh!” Both Callie and Meenah froze up in different ways, Callie in almost a disasociative way and Meenah in anger, “yoar doin it again! i thought pip said you reeled back on that!” “i did bUt yoU’re still WRONG. if she were connected in any way shape or form to that- that-HIM we woUldn’t be friends, woUld we? i woUldn’t be alive, there’s been so many chances to kill me now- we woUldn’t be ALLOWED to be friends. she’d hate me- he woUldn’t need to be rebUilt! he’d have so many other bodies, meenah! s-sorry, minerva. serioUsly, she’s not-” “ugh just shut up. i get it yoar still deludin yoarshelf. its fine. shes not the one im worried aboat anymoar anyway. i think you are right at least that yoar friends- i.... have questions. boat ill wait on that. i dont trust her boss. an if hes not jarvis then fine, its unfounded worry, boat thats beside the point. serket herself. shes yoar only close friend right now so if thats who ya got. thats who ya got. we wont stress ya out aboat it anymore. we havent in a while if it aint been obvious.” Meenah pitied Callie in a way. She turned to magic to deal with trauma and it’s done her nothing but get her tangled up in the very web she was trying to get away from. At least, as far as she saw it. Maybe the girl was right. Still, Callie just looked confused and like she was struggling with herself now. Meenah reached out and pulled her in by the shoulder. “hey. forget it foar now. just think over my suggestion alright? now its still yoar wriggling day and i want to take you out foar coffee or tea or somefin alright? we got a lot to catch up on.” Callie still didn’t seem the most comfortable that she was there, but she let herself be pulled along to the door. “alright.... bUt one qUestion before we go.” Callie pulled at the holographic coat around Meenah’s shoulders. “what is this thing even made of?” With a laugh Meenah pulled them through the door, toward the elevator, “fuck if i know pip got it foar me. cute right? i think it makes a splash~”

#action!post #long post ///#artificialgrievand #artificalgrievand mentioned #lilmamamiracles #BIRTHDAY GUEST BIRTHDAY GUEST #abuse /#honestly i'm not sure what to tag for cause BIRTHDAY GUEST is a little rough. so i'll go with that.

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tamiddyinyourcity · 5 years ago

Text

12:10pm, Happy Valentines Day of 2020.

I had a dream that was too surreal to explain, but the scariest part of it was not when a woman in the Target threw a ball too poorly and ended up flinging herself over the railing and dying facedown on the Target concrete floors, but it was when I went to a rival Target, in-dream, and got chased by what looked like a platypus with goose legs and no arms.

I was fucking TERRIFIED.

Also, they apparently had it amongst other ducks and animals born without arms, as apart of their "featherless biped" 50% off sale. Those poor animals.

Nigga was RUNNING AT ME THOUGH.

Anyway.

What's up, yall?

I kind of did something big the other night. My friends are happy, and it feels like I got a 130 pound weight off my chest. I know they're okay, but, eh..... I just didn't want to keep feeling like things would ever develop into more. Sure, they went from one way to another, but, it doesnt really mean anything..... I don't know. I wrote him a letter, and gave him it at midnight the other night. Giving someone a three page letter, explaining you dont love them right as the clock strikes twelve for Valentines Day, is a little upsetting, (and unintentionally amusing?,) in its own sense. He knows I like our past too much to hate him, but not enough to be stuck in it. When I reached home, he sent me a text...... I don't wanna relay it. It wasnt mean, but, just.........

Odd, maybe?

I have a date later tonight. The good thing about being somewhat poly, is that even if I have to tell a man that I no longer can be in his life and cry in front of my house later that night about it, someone completely different is willing to buy me a dress, art supplies, and the fancy dinner I had always wanted.

I forgot to ask for my book back.

I may have to give it time before I try to get it back. Since it was a good one, and I would give his back.........

If I think about this too much, it'll be JUST like the christmas gift situation, and i do not want to have a verbal scuffle with a 21 year old man about whether or not it's unfair to ask for a book back in a book trade, when the other person is cutting you out their life, and when you never started it........

I need to stop thinking about it.

I felt guilty.

The way he looked at me when he opened the door. He's prone to mske Jim Carrey level weird expressions. So, one cannot describe his, "hey???? why???? my porch,, AT MIDNIGHT???? arr u insane????", face he did through thr glass of his door.

I kinda paused from the dramatic tension of giving him my letter, to say, "Oh, god, is your chin okay or is that just some cotton?" He had a really big piece of cotton strung acrosd his chin stubble. It looked like a cut/dead skin, but it was just cotton fuzz. We kinda laughed about it. Laughing with someone you're trying to cut off is not making leaving them any easier.

The way he kinda accepted the letter. I don't know what he thought it was. I get it, "cute girl shows up to your house at unreasonable hour to kiss you and give you a letter", one would assume it was a love letter.

It was not. Sure, mentions of it were in there, but nothing too big.

OKAY MAYBE SOME WERE BIG, BUT I DO NOT HAVE THE EMOTIONAL CHILLNESS RIGHT NOW TO CALMLY REITERATE THE PARAGRAPH I WROTE.

Ew. I don't like feeling this way.

I just kinda remember leaving off his porch, and he yelled, "Well, I'll see ya later!"

And I was conflicted, since saying "you too!", would haunt me forever.

But saying "no you wont" would be a dick move, you know?

Which just lead to me stuttering, and him being a bit chuffed by it.

Whatever.

I doubt he even knew what was going on.

But that was the plan, right? If he knew, he would've asked me to stay. Or, I would've faced a crushing rejection myself. I've had too many of those.

12:50pm.

I'm chill. In a few hours, I get to be dolled up, driven into the city.

But what's a way to get dolled up? I already wear shiny earrings and lip gloss all the time. The only upgrade I can think of is eyeliner and lipstick, or something.

What's the phrase, in the least cocky way possible?

"How do you already go up from greatness?"

Aye.

Anyway, life goes on. I did what was right for me.

Since if I never gave him the letter, I would've just been in bed all day, waiting from 9am to 5pm to see if he wanted to meet, just for..... what? Sex?

It would've been depressing.

If what I'd ideally want from a person like him is either total space, or yknow, the typical me showing up with a trenchcoat surprise, eating candy and promptly fucking his brains out....

Or the more classic, "i get dressed up, he gets dressed up, and we go on a romantic ass date".

Then, if my only options are:

Write him a letter and leave.

Settle for CVS candy and eat it alone.

Get CVS candy, not even a kind you would like, and sure, you get some great orgasms, but you're still seen as a sex object by the person you liked more.

.....

My decision worked.

I felt better, waking up this morning.

I didn't wake up thinking, "Is he out of therapy? Can we hang out yet? Will he be okay with me there, as his parents are there?", and having the 50/50 chance of rejection, where one potential means disappointing and unaffectionate sex with a beautiful man, oooooooor..... depression!

1:11pm.

Steve Harvey is ranting about how women should do better, and not let a man put you on "layaway"; doing the bare minimum and walking away, and letting you be "on hold" until he decides he doesnt want you anymore.

Good answer, Steve. :)

I'll push it out of my head.

The only reason he texted me when I got home that he was sad to see me go, is that he was SAD, not changing his mind over me, or whatever.

The only reason he texted me that he "kinda regrets rejecting the kiss", (long story,) is since he would miss my lips, and want one last inch of satisfaction, and not me.

The only reason he texted me about "loving the smooch on the page at the end", (done for the aesthetic,) is since it was aesthetically pleasing.

To put it simply; I don't want him anymore.

Not at my own expense.

If I want a man who can show me he cares for me, then I better go after that.

What good comes from dating a man who would have to be begged for the bare minimum?

I deserve more than that. And any person who cant recognize that, or do right by me, should not be the one to cry when the dust is settled and I'm no longer standing in their presence.

Fuck that shit, dawg.

Anyways.

Time to figure out what im doing for the day.

I dooo need a pedicure; oddly enough, Patrick ended up recommending I go to a nail salon in my area, instead of taking pricey uber rides all the way out to other places out there.

And not sure what else to do.

Organize my room? Yeah.

Overall, I wanna have better for myself.

Today is a step in the right direction, I just gotta get up and actually live it.

Thats all.

Peace out.

#exes #yep

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