#best ground coffee uk

[criminalamnesia]

Not a request but NEW TRAITOR CHAP WHEN??? prioritize urself no rush Pookie just the ppl gotta know

part 7 is here 🙏

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

it was pouring rain as you slid from the taxi, the driver attempting to yell at you to shut the door as thunder rumbled overhead.

you paid him no heed; boots splashed in murky puddles as you pushed the door closed and moved towards the yellow cab’s trunk.

you could barely hear yourself think. the rain was battering the ground as if locked in a viscous war with the cracked pavement— puddles forming as the asphalt resisted with all its might. it wasn’t enough, water seeping into the ground and muddying the grass nearby, drowning it mercilessly.

you grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder before shutting the trunk. you’d barely stepped back from the car before it was speeding off, kicking up water and splashing your legs.

you didn’t mind— you were soaked through to the bone, anyways. besides, you didn’t mind the storm. it was comfort— a distraction from what lay ahead.

your new team. a small, covert operations group made up of the best of the best. two sergeants, a lieutenant, a captain— and they wanted one more soldier.

the opening couldn’t have come at a better time. you’d run your course with your old squad. they’d been fine— until they weren’t. carelessness and ignorance from teammates almost resulted in your untimely death, and laswell hadn’t questioned your transfer request after hearing the tale.

in fact, she’d recommended the one-four-one to you.

you thought you’d be meeting them on base, but the captain had requested you meet them here, instead. a run-down old diner, with its bright, neon pink sign blinking down at you through the rain.

you inhaled, then exhaled. clenched your fists, then unclenched them. it was a habit you’d had since you were a child. it forced you to slow down and think, to overcome the emotions you were lost in.

you blinked. rain ran down your face, creating false tears as it streamed from the corners of your eyes. you were sure you looked a sight.

another inhale, another exhale, and then you moved towards the diner’s door. you pushed it open, stepping inside and wiping your boots on the mat in front of the door.

“I think you’re gonna need to do more than that to dry off, sweetheart” a woman’s voice calls to you, causing you to look up towards the counter. she’s grimacing, looking you up and down. no doubt she’ll be following your path through the building with a mop in hand.

“sorry,” you tell her, trying to brush some water from your jacket. “forgot my umbrella.”

the woman gave a huff, waving her hand before turning and attending to an ancient-looking coffee maker.

you take the time to glance around the diner then, noting the substantial lack of customers. only two booths were occupied, one containing a young couple tangled in each other’s arms, and the other containing a man wearing a baseball cap with the UK flag patched on it.

he looked up from his phone as you approached, seemingly unsurprised based on the grin he gave you.

“glad to see you got here in one piece,” he says as you shrug off your bag, placing it on the floor as you slide into the seat across from him.

“one drenched piece,” you say, and he gives a small chuckle.

“im kyle,” the man tells you. “don’t know what laswell told you,” he clicks off his phone and places it on the table. “but im one of the sergeants.”

you nod. “callsign ‘gaz,’ right?”

he gives a nod of his own. his phone buzzes, the screen lighting up. his eyes glance down, scan the message, then meet yours once more.

“rest of the team got held up. price is in a meeting. johnny and ghost are on assignment, but they’re due back any day now.”

“so you’re the welcome committee by default, huh?” you say, and he laughs.

“guess i am. have i scared you off yet?”

“dunno,” you tell him. “but laswell sings your praises. the captain’s, especially.”

“she sings yours, too.” kyle says.

you give a small nod, your mind racing at what laswell may have told the task force. you weren’t bad at your job— you were great at it. a great shot, a reliable solider, a tireless sentry.

your emotions got the better of you at times, that was all. attachments and bonds that formed, linking you and your fellow soldiers together in the web of warfare. tying you around the wrist and dragging you along, for better or worse. little siblings or lovers evolving from what once had been just another set of boots on the ground.

this job was all you had. you found family where you had too, and it made you all the more loyal. but when you were spurned? when the fire leapt from the pit and scorched your skin?

you weren’t quick to forgive, and you found that reasonable in this line of work. mistakes by teammates could get you killed. who could blame you for holding a grudge against an ally who had almost cost you your life?

it’s why you were here now. a new start with a new team— a team of the best, you included.

kyle’s phone buzzes again. he picks it up, the screen illuminating his face as the lights flicker overhead. the storm wasn’t letting up.

“cap’s on his way— says he’ll be here in less than 30.”

“price, right?” you recall his name. kyle nods.

“don’t tell him I told you,” he leans in, a mischievous look in his eyes, “but he’s been lookin’ forward to meeting you. maybe even more than johnny has.”

“why’s that?”

“said the one-four-one is overdue for someone else who can kick johnny’s ass. wants you to knock him down a few more pegs.”

you laugh at that, giving a small shake of your head. kyle’s lips curl into a smile. “nah, he’s just happy to have some more hands on deck. always helps to have another person that’ll watch your back.”

as kyle starts talking again, you find your nerves settling.

maybe this team could be your new family.

you looked down at your hands, noting the slight shake of them. you don’t think they’d been steady since before everything happened.

your eyes glance to the ugly, scarred stump of the finger you’d lost. simon hadn’t chopped it off prettily, and it’d been stitched up hastily. you couldn’t blame the doctor, there had been more pressing injuries to attend to.

such as the bone-deep cut to one leg, growing infected from your time spent in the chair. the scar was long, stretching from the top of your thigh to your knee. it was still pink, a sign of your body still trying to put itself back together.

your torso wasn’t much better. jagged scars and puckered knots of skin marred your image. both from before and from after.

your eyes met your own in the mirror. you barely recognized yourself. the anger within you still burned, but its flame had reduced to a simmer. exhaustion, apathy, and shame had taken its place.

perhaps that was a good thing. it saved you the energy of fighting the men you inevitably saw every day. despite your numerous pleas and demands for them to simply leave you alone, they seemed to have a hard time listening. it made you want to scream. to hurt them, digging your fingers into skin until they understood the pain behind your words.

a knock sounded at the door. you didn’t move.

a knock again. you could hear the shuffle of feet outside the door. you wished whoever it was would leave you be.

another knock, accompanied by the soft timbre of kyle’s voice.

“love, you alright in there?” he was saying. you still stood before the mirror.

things had been different since you attacked the doctor. it had only been a few days, but word spread quickly through base. if people had avoided you before, you were like the plague now.

and the shame you felt was insurmountable. the pain and regret and fury were building like a tidal wave in your stomach, rising and choking the air from your lungs.

you wanted to leave this place. get away from the men you once called family, the one you once called yours.

but leaving meant the end of your career. you just had to hold out until kate arranged your transfer, that’s all. just a few more days, right?

and then this place and these people wouldn’t be a constant reminder of what had happened to you. of what it had done to you, physically and mentally.

“go, kyle,” you called out to him, breaking from your trance as you reached for the scratchy robe johnny had gifted you one christmas.

“not until i see you breathin’, love.”

you sigh, tying the robe shut and hugging the material to your body. you moved to the door, turning the lock before inching it open.

“breathing,” you tell him, watching as his eyes flick away from yours. god, it made you want to strangle him.

to yell at him, to yell at all of them— "you did this, and you should be able to look me in the eyes and see it.”

“now go.”

he looks at you again, eyebrows furrowed in worry. “will you let me in?” he asks, and you scoff as you move to slam the door.

“fuck off, kyle.”

but he’s quick, and his hand shoots out, grasping the door’s wooden edge and keeping it from closing.

“we need to talk.”

“whatever you need to say, you can say it from there,” you tell him, and he pauses for a minute before he nods.

“doc is asking about you again. she’s up and runnin’ around. said she wants to see you.”

your lips press into a thin line. you didn’t deserve that woman’s kindness, not after what you’d done to her.

you hadn’t been in your right mind, but that didn’t excuse it. you had bloodied your fists; harmed an innocent in the war between you and your own mind.

you didn’t want to see her still worrying about you when you had assured her you were fine. you had left her supervision, and then you’d attacked her. and you hadn’t stopped until simon had pulled you away.

you would’ve killed her, you know that in your heart. you would’ve killed her, thinking she was one of the men who had wanted to kill you.

“tell her im fine,” you said, your hand tightening around the door’s knob.

“i think she’d rather see that for herself,” he says.

“im fine,” you repeat. “i’ll be out of everyone’s hair in a few days, anyways.”

kyle’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “you’re leaving?”

he knew this, they all did. perhaps they just didn’t truly believe it. all of them, every single one, still thought you’d turn around and run back into their arms.

bastards.

“as soon as laswell gives the word,” you reply. “should be soon.”

kyle doesn’t speak. he’s obviously biting his tongue— you’d seen the expression that was on his face enough to know when he was holding back, but you didn’t prod like you would’ve before.

let him keep his secrets, lies, promises, and sorries. you didn’t need them anymore.

“don’t bother me again,” you said before shutting the door in his face.

you hear him sigh on the other side of the wood, then hear the retreat of his steps. you turn back to the mirror, snarl, and grab the alarm clock from your nightstand.

you throw it into the glass, shattering it to pieces. seven years of bad luck, you think.

well, it couldn’t get much worse, could it?

kyle sighs, staring at your door for a second longer before turning away. simon looks down at him from where he was leaning against the wall, hidden from your view, his muscled arms crossed over his chest.

“surprised?” simon asks as the two of them retreat down the hallway. he makes sure they’re far enough from your door before speaking, so that you won’t hear his voice.

“we knew it was happening, price said as much after that whole thing with johnny,” kyle replies, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “just thought this might change things.”

“change ‘em how?” simon says. “if anythin’, this speeds it up. they’re a liability now.”

“they’re hurt, ghost,” kyle retorts, his eyes meeting his superior’s. “that’s ptsd. not everyone’s as forgiving as the doc. they attack someone outside and that’s a fucking felony.”

“that’s not our problem, sergeant,” comes simon’s baritone reply, and kyle stops.

“you’re a fuckin’ case yourself, y’know that, LT?” he says, and simon stops. “we all played a part,” kyle continues. “but you? you would’ve killed ‘em if we never knew the truth. i know you would’ve. i’ve seen you do it.”

the men stare at each other. simon’s expression is hidden underneath his balaclava, but kyle knows it’s unreadable regardless.

mean, old ghost. heartless bastard, loyal to the mission only. that’s what the others around base whispered to each other.

kyle had seen proof to the contrary. yes, simon was loyal to the mission. but he was also loyal to his team, his family. you.

he was loyal to you.

“watch yourself, sergeant,” simon speaks, his voice a dangerous rumble.

kyle scoffs and walks off, shaking his head.

simon watches him go, his breath steady.

kyle didn’t understand him, not really. not the way you had begun to. and that was his own fault, he knows it. forever holding those close to him at arms length for fear of the worst.

he’d let you in— let you invade that space he enforced so ruthlessly. and the worst had happened.

kyle doesn’t know this is tearing him in half; none of the team does. they don’t understand that simon wants you to stay because you’re you, but he wants you gone because he can see how this is killing you.

even when he’s the villain in your story, he’s still trying to look out for you— in his own, twisted way.

he doesn’t regret it. that is cemented in his mind. but as he grapples with his own emotions, his mind in its own turmoil, he knows he wants you to be okay.

“im sorry,” he had spoken to deaf ears.

sorry for the ripping apart of your life, but not sorry for what he had done.

deep down, he knew you would never forgive them. he knew that leaving this team would be the best thing for you.

he knew, he knew, he knew.

knowing and accepting are two different things.

hope this was worth the wait! i think the next part will be the end, unless my idea changes 👀

[nilboxes]

You're so right for toxic fubu aven, I wish people would stop equating him as someone who has no choice or control over what happens when in most scenes he's the one with the high ground and authority over the situation.

How do you think Ratio and Aven in his toxic fubu era would interact ?

Sometimes I feel like I'm putting the dial up to 11 a little too much, because Aventurine has always been a sweetheart on the outside, and toxic fubu is a little "one-facet" read on him but like, I just really am tired of him being characterized as a baby damsel uwu uke when he's actually a dudebro deep down. People are free to characterize how they like but like, I am also free to call it out as an interpretation that has gone a little too out there and it's not in the "spirit" of the character anymore.

Anyway

My friend on twitter succinctly puts it— "Aventurine is always where he wants to be, whether or not he is happy about it is another question entirely" and I have been thinking long and hard about this, to ne he is "where he is most advantageous in position" such as being a Stoneheart in the IPC but whether or not he is happy to be there is irrelevant, he is where he would be able to do what he wants with the most effectivity etc etc. His cornerstone is literally "Stratagems" which is also turning a bad situation into a good one.

So regarding uhh how Aventurine would be with Ratio during this era— I don't touch upon this in fics because I am waiting for Diamond appearance, but my personal headcanon is that Diamond periodically sends moles as potential partners to Aventurine as a way to fuck with him and potentially gain more influence/control over him. I kinda want to explain his fuck boy-ness through this, he knows he's being lead on, he is being baited, and he's playing the game and using the people sent to him in turn.

If Ratio met him during this time, I do believe Aventurine would still like, fall in love with him at first sight (let's say the Final Victor LC and my fic shenanigans where I imply Aventurine influenced bringing Ratio over to the IPC/IG was a thing) he'd be so smitten... he'd realize he doesn't want any other partner except Ratio, he doesn't even get off properly anymore (he's still the best at fucking though) and all his thoughts is consumed by how he's going to have Dr Veritas Ratio in his bed and his life.

He would really start a courtship with Ratio, he would like, get advise from various anonymous places to figure out how to woo the Doctor. He'd engineer a way to meet him and have introductions made. Give flowers, write letters (commissioned ones but he'd also add personal touches) and basically do all that until Dr Ratio agrees to go out to coffee with him (Not even dinner ToT coz Ratio is so hard to get to know) and they'll build from there, all the while Aven wouldn't be doing the casual sex anymore (much to Sugilite's sadness :()

[myemuisemo]

I've been waiting and hoping for an "explain it all" chapter in Letters From Watson's weekly breakdown of The Hound of the Baskervilles. Chapters XIII and XIV gave us a lot of excitement but not a lot I wanted to talk about.

Finally, in chapter XV, I am vindicated: Rodger Baskerville did not die without marriage or issue! To be fair, I had not even considered Costa Rica, best known for coffee-growing, as the destination of someone who wanted to get rich in mining. It turns out that Costa Rica had a gold rush as early as 1815 and continues to have significant gold, copper, and manganese mines.

Like most of its Latin American neighbors, Costa Rica had a tradition of recording marriages, births, and deaths at the parish level. Civil registration began in 1888, after Jack Stapleton/Rodger Jr. had already left the country.

Under the Naturalization Act of 1772, Rodger Jr. was automatically a British citizen, even though he was born in a country that had never been under British rule, because his father was a British citizen. The Naturalization Act of 1844 assured that Beryl, as a foreign woman marrying a British citizen, became a British citizen with her marriage. (source)

How Rodger Jr. was going to prove his claim, Holmes left unexplained. Also vague is how Stapleton got himself back to England with assorted identities. It turns out that standardized passports were not introduced until 1915, when World War I made border control a more serious issue. In the era of the story, a single-page letter would have been sufficient, though it had to be signed by the Foreign Secretary. (source) However, it's entirely possible that nobody ever asked to look at a passport for Rodger Jr.! Passports often weren't required at all, and a sudden increase of travel in the last quarter of the 19th century meant that there often wasn't much monitoring of whether travelers had one, or whether it looked valid.

Beryl Stapleton is left in a terrible situation -- though less terrible than if her husband were still alive, as her grounds for divorce were surprisingly scanty. She is legally a UK citizen, but she has no family in England. There is no social safety net. Her husband's money was tainted and is running low. It is unclear what, if any, skills she has to support herself, and her reputation is in tatters.

She would be better off going back to her family in Costa Rica -- even though she likely lost her citizenship upon marriage, a woman in 1889 didn't have enough rights for anyone to care, as long as her family received her. But would they? Marrying a scoundrel was usually blamed on the woman. (While Costa Rica had birthright citizenship for children born there of foreign parents, it required not claiming the parents' citizenship, as far as I can tell. A Costa Rican woman's citizenship followed her husband.) Her best bet would be remarrying, but the bloom is off that rose for Sir Henry Baskerville, and it's not like she particularly cared for him. If he did change his mind, he would be unable to take her into any polite society.

Laura Lyons is also left high and dry. Her biggest benefactor, Sir Charles Baskerville, is dead. Her father still won't see her. Stapleton's promises to fund her divorce were lies, so she's still tied to a husband she doesn't want.

Mrs. Barrymore is mourning the loss of her criminal brother, but she's in better shape than either of the higher-class women. Her husband does not, so far as we know, beat her. She and he can prevent Baskerville Hall from falling to ruin while Sir Henry is away recovering, then use their inheritance to start an inn or pub. Because she's not gentry, her brother's disgrace has little impact on her respectability. But people will come from miles around to eat her stew and hear the story of how the Barrymores served dinner to a murderer and to Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Mrs. Mortimer is so far forgotten that James Mortimer is off on a long jaunt with his new bff, Sir Henry. She was a plot device to get him a fancy cane and relocate him to Devon, nothing more. Let us imagine her knitting contentedly in a cottage with a cat.

While I was correct in my vague recollection that The Hound of the Baskervilles involves a moor and a dog, I know nothing whatever about The Valley of Fear, which is apparently up next month.

[kivaember]

AC6 College AU? Rusty plays the lacrosse, Raven is either a programmer or an engineer major, Ayre is an AI made by him, and Freud is one of the faculty members.

i've actually thought about a college AU!

Well, technically, a university AU bc I'm from the UK and college is a diff thing entirely to uni. Also I have no idea what American uni culture is like LMAO (idek what lacrosse is, rusty would be good at football or rugby tho) BUT ANYWAYS my idea for it was:

RUSTY: an undergraduate taking the BSc (Hons) in Ecology and Conservation (not sure if it's different outside of UK, but an "honours degree" is more difficult than a standard degree, and is more attractive to employers as a result). He's got an avid interest in ecology and zoology, and has plans to be a conservationist upon graduating.

621: He's actually a professor at the university, but looks so young that most mistake him as a student if they're not in his department. He teaches ethical hacking and cyber security, and has several rumours about him, such as he used to be a notorious hacker who was eventually caught and strongarmed into working for the government in lieu of a prison sentence, and now spends his time teaching the next generation, etc, etc. Is it true? Who knows...

WALTER: He's the university librarian, and everyone is scared of him because he's so stern and always has this aura of intensity, even when just checking a book out for someone. For some reason he's on very good terms with 621... many people theorise on their history, because Walter's also very good with computers... everyone is also aware that Walter and Michigan are a thing bc those guys ain't subtle in the slightest.

FREUD: He teaches sport science and students either love him or hate him. He's like the human personnification of marmite. He's very enthusiastic about health and remaining in peak condition, and he expects his students to give 110% in his classes. He's always butting heads with Snail, who's in the same department as him. People take bets on how long it'll take for them to fight in the parking lot and who would win (Freud has 'is insane' strength but Snail would be powered by sheer rage that has been repressed for x amount of years).

IGUAZU: He works in the on-campus cafe as a barista. He's surly and curt but makes the best damn coffee in the city so no one really complains about it. He seems to know 621 and has some kind of hate-love relationship with him? It's complicated. He yells at 621 every time he walks into the cafe but also knows his order off by heart so it's very hmmm (more fuel for the rumour mills).

MICHIGAN: He teaches War Studies and History, and while he's a pretty demanding professor, most students love his energetic style of teaching. Many assume him to be a red and blue blooded American on account of his bombastic personality, American accent and insisting on being called Michigan - he's actually French and the estranged son of a well-known billionaire. It's Michigan's deepest darkest secret.

AYRE: Every so often 621 will have a guest speaker in his classes who calls in remotely (and voice only) called Ayre. He says she's an "old work colleague" and they're both very vague about what work they were colleagues in, but people enjoy Ayre's guest appearances as she's very friendly - in direct contrast to the very taciturn and almost cold 621.

O'KEEFFE: He works in HR, but most students joke that he's more of an information broker than anything. Though he acts put upon, he's willing to help out students trying to navigate the byzantine beaucracy of university paperwork and how to squeeze out as much as possible from their loans or signposting people to things that can help them. He's easily bribed with coffee and cigarettes, but honestly, he'd help out even without a bribe... very much one of those people who look gruff and unfriendly on the outside, but actually a good person underneath it all.

FLATWELL: He owns a bakery just outside of university grounds that's popular with the students. One of the reasons Rusty chose this univeristy to do his degree: his Uncle lives just outside of it, and was willing to house him, letting Rusty save money for dormitory and food and stuff. Seems to have some ~history~ with O'Keeffe in HR...

UH THOSE ARE THE MAIN CHARACTERS/ROLES and the plot would be Rusty crossing paths with 621 and thinking him very cute (621 would be the type to dress in cardigans and wear glasses), and also a fellow student... is totally unaware that he's a faculty member from an entirely different department. Tl;dr after some flirting and a few dates, Rusty only realises that 621 is a faculty member when he mentions off hand about needing to go back early to mark papers.

Rusty: oh you're... a TA? helping out in your last year? 621: no i teach Rusty: Rusty: wait how old are you-

In this I'm thinking Rusty would be in his mid-twenties, and 621 would be in his late thirties. So, about a 10 year gap between them, give or take a year.

But yeah. Coughs. That's.... that's my university au idea... mmhm. yeah...

[writeshite]

Hey I love your writing could you do one where Homelander finds out that Male Supe!Reader has kids because he's always late to meetings. And maybe fluffy ending where Supe!Reader stands up to Homelander saying he would rather give up his powers if it means he can still have his kids and Homelander being impressed that he asked him out?

Unplanned Attraction

Summary:

“You’re late,” Homelander points out, his tone a mixture of disappointed and possibly irritated. “Really? I couldn’t tell,” you snark at him. You rub at your temples - no coffee, not enough sleep, not enough patience - he goes to say something, face appalled at your attitude, but is cut off as the meeting progresses.

Pairings:

Homelander x Male!Reader

Tags:

Supe!Reader (Reader Has Darkness Manipulation) | Single Father!Reader | Trash Treated Like Fanfic |

Words: 2285

Author's Note:

Glad you enjoy the writing 😊

It’s hard to believe a single word that comes out of the twins’ mouths, much less when Oliver looks seconds from punching another kid in the face, but you take it - already an hour late to work. Oswin clings to you, and you have to gently coax him into following his brother inside; another few minutes are stolen, but you manage to leave without too many tears this time. You’re on patrol until the twins adjust to their new surroundings, which is going about as well as you can expect; Oliver loathes the apartment Vought provided, still clinging onto the hope you might move back to the UK, Oswin refuses to let you out of his sight for more than a minute - that’s not even touching on the oh so wondrous divorce proceedings that just got settled. Your new colleagues are alright, but you don’t make it a habit of putting yourself out there.

Unfortunately, today’s mission requires the attention of all high-ranking supes, and you find yourself knee-deep in the snow beside the Seven because, of course, the targets have a hideout in Antarctica. You trudge through the sludge, grumbling to yourself, “Shh,” you hear from above; your partner for the mission, Homelander, flies low; lucky bastard gets to fly this time. You roll your eyes, lowering your grumbling slightly, “Shh.” He repeats as you come up to the hideout. It’s nothing too grand, dug into the snow, some - Homelander, Stormfront, Maeve - surround it as the rest - you, Starlight, the Deep, A-Train, and Black Noir - creep in under cover of your shadow. The inside is much larger, it seems, with the facility akin to a bunker; it descends a bit into the ground, it’s not too difficult to navigate, and you manage to catch the enemy off guard.

The success doesn’t last long, as they catch on to your intrusion, setting off the alarms and charging at you by the dozens. You cover the halls in darkness, leading the way with Starlight providing the others some form of light as they take care of the company. Explosions sound from the outside, lightly shaking the structure, your comm buzzes, and Ashley’s voice carries through, “There’s been an incident….the twins….a fight….” It’s static at best; every second or third word that comes through is a garbled mess, and you promise to call her back on it before concentrating on the fight at hand. You wave your arm; the slumped bodies get shoved forward by a wave of shadow, piling onto the still-breathing targets - who all scream and retreat further into the bunker. 

“Obsidian,” Homelander’s voice comes through the comms, inquiring about the situation at hand, just as the sound of something being sealed echoes around you. You let the shadows fall, a door closed tight, with the remaining people behind it. You try to open it and receive a warning from someone on the other side - open it, and it goes up in flames - lovely.

You back away, turning to the others with a questioning look, “They could be bluffing,” the Deep says.

“Yeah, or they could be telling the truth,” Starlight remarks.

“Get Homelander down here; he can deal with this,” you tell them. Homelander looks displeased when he arrives; obviously, he’d been having too much fun up top.

“Couldn’t you have dealt with this?” he asks.

“And get roasted alive? No thanks,” you respond, “Quit whining, and get your invulnerable ass in there.”

They were not, in fact, bluffing, the flames weren’t as big, but the explosion was enough to have the heat flick close to your person. You drag the survivors out, tying them back to back and dusting off your costume. It’s a merry trip back to Vought - well, for the others anyway - you manage to get a hold of Ashley again and are gone before pickup arrives. 

There’s been an incident, and the twins got caught in a fight.

It was much less of a fight, and more of a disagreement, as the headmaster tells you, “The boys had been talking about you, and a few of the other children found it hard to believe that they were actually related to a superhero, much less one as prominent and powerful as yourself. Nothing to fret over.”

“I’m so sorry about this,” you assure him. Oswin’s up in your arms while Oliver remains stood by you, hand gripping yours tightly, as he glares daggers at the other students waiting outside for their reprimands. “It won’t happen again,” you say, but the man waves you off, reassuring you it’s all well. 

You tug Oliver away as the next child enters the office, “Told you so!” Oliver hisses at the other kid, who glances at you - still decked in your costume and covered in grime from the mission -  and looks absolutely petrified. You sigh, smiling apologetically to the other parent, before leaving. 

“Sorry,” Oswin mumbles, the first word he’s spoken all day.

“It’s alright, love; like the headmaster said, nothing to worry about.” 

Your new apartment is among the other supes and has far more insulation - keeping the noises both inside and out to a minimum - with three bedrooms instead of one - the third acting as more of a playroom for the twins, as they share a room. You set Oswin down, glad not to have run into anyone on your way up; you doubt Oliver would be able to handle the loving adoration children garner from strangers today. You send them off to change and trifle through the fridge - today’s dinner, courtesy of the Vought kitchens, consisted of spaghetti bolognese with an apple crumble for dessert.

Dinner was always a lot more lively, with the twins being more open and chatty around you, “Don’t forget to breathe before you speak,” you tease them, earning yourself a huff in response. Once they’ve bathed their faces in spaghetti, they go about decorating the table with apple crumble as they excitedly tell you about the petting zoo trip next month. After, they have a bath and watch a bit of television - heading off to bed at 9 - leaving you to flop in bed right after. Evenings are far easier than mornings; despite an earlier start to the next day, you are very late to the morning meeting. You’d had to make Oliver promise he wouldn’t try anything with the other kids - his vindictiveness always rearing its ugly head - while Oswin did anything but get ready, hiding and running off when you tried to catch him - at least the walk to their school was nice.

“You’re late,” Homelander points out, his tone a mixture of disappointed and possibly irritated.

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” you snark at him. You rub at your temples - no coffee, not enough sleep, not enough patience - he goes to say something, face appalled at your attitude, but is cut off as the meeting progresses. Mission reports from yesterday are looked over, then popularity polls - you’ve risen to third place since last time - no missions today, and finally, you’re released - no merchandise or advertisement offers today. You place your head on the table as the others trickle out, contemplating whether or not it would make a good resting place, but you decide against it and find Homelander still in the room. You don’t say anything else to him before leaving for patrol.

If it weren’t for the constant traffic in and out of Vought and the slight renovations being down to the empty apartment, John would never have known a new supe was joining them. He didn’t even see you until the third meeting after you’d moved in - the first two, you’d missed - you’d walked in half an hour late and sat down like it was nothing. Aside from the meetings and the occasional mission, he didn’t see much of you; despite your high status, you stuck to patrols - weird - and regarded everyone else with an air of mild hostility. Well, not hostility, exactly, more so hesitation. 

“You’re late.” It’s the first unnecessary dialogue he exchanges with you; you turn to him, looking exhausted and more irritated than ever.

“Really, I couldn’t tell,” you snark at him, slumping into your seat. You look seconds away from dozing off, body lax with exhaustion, and fingers at your temple - the meeting drones on, today being far less taxing than yesterday - once over, you place your head on the table as the others exit the room. Homelander doesn’t follow, remaining rooted in his spot. When you glance back up, he almost expects some form of apology for the snarky remark - which, considering your fatigue, he could consider forgiving - but he receives none. Instead, you leave without so much as a regard for him. He’s a little miffed at that but also, possibly, mildly curious about you - so he does what he does best. Intimidates Asks for information on you. 

He wrangles your patrol route out of someone and catches up to you downtown as your handing off two burglars to the cops. He approaches you once the officers have left, a half smile on his face, “Any particular reason you’re following me?” You ask once he’s stuck by you for more than a few blocks.

He shrugs and doesn’t offer much in the way of an explanation. Patrol was mind-numbingly boring - you stop two minor crimes - but aside from that, it’s nothing, and conversation drops off as you remain tight-lipped. By the afternoon, John is considering going back; when you stop midair, a short call on the other end, “It’s happened again,” he hears Ashley’s voice; what’s it,  and why is it happening again? You don’t give him a chance to ask, as you’re off before he can register, flying back towards Vought, though you fly past it, way past it, to another building. He pauses, squinting his eyes at the building you land by - a school?

When he lands, you turn to him, “Go away.”

“No,” he replies, “Why?”

“Because this has nothing to do with you,” you tell him.

His business is whatever he wants it to be. He doesn’t leave, stubbornly following behind you - everything about the school screams pristine, from the Vought emblem at nearly every corner to the immaculate halls and classrooms. It’s lunch now, so the students in the halls, all glimpse at you and him, parting as you pass.

“Holy shit! Is that Obsidian?”

“Never mind that; look, it’s the fucking Homelander.”

He smiles smugly at their star-struck gazes. You’ve given up deterring him, instead focusing on whatever you’re looking for - the principal’s office - six kids, sit outside the room. Two of them rush from their seats - twins, baring a resemblance to you - one blabbers, speaking fast as he points at the four other children, while the second twin cries, apologizing profusely. The other four kids look frazzled, eyes wide; they flinch with every glare the first twin sends them. The twins calm down after a bit, one asks after him, but you brush him off, “Never mind him; what happened to you?” 

“That’s what I’d like to discuss,” a voice interjects, the door’s opened, and a shorter man peeks out, face grim as he waves you over. John spies four other people in the room before the door closes; with nothing else to do and his curiosity at full peak, he sits on one of the free seats, half listening to the conversation inside. 

“Oliver and Oswin were —”

“They harmed my son!” someone shrieks, voice laced with anger, “They should be punished!”

“What do you mean hurt?” you ask, “What happened?”

The principal clears his throat, and the sound of rustling follows before he speaks again, “It seems one of the twins may have developed your power skills and used it to —”

“One of your little freaks put my kid’s head in a bubble of some kind and made him run into a wall. REPEATEDLY.”

“That’s impossible, the twins don’t have powers, and even if they did, neither of them would….”

The voices cut off as John’s attention is drawn away; the bolder twin is full-on staring at him, eyes squinted, and a displeased frown on his face. “What?”

He goes to respond, but the other one pulls at his arm, “Oliver, that’s the Homelander!” he whispers, expression fearful.

“So? I wanna know why he was with papa,” the first twin, Oliver, says, turning back to John with twice the contempt. The lights flicker ever so slightly, and yelling erupts from the office; one of the bulbs bursts as the other parents run out, their children following suit. You exit not moments later; the matter looks resolved if the other man’s terrified face is anything to go by. 

“How do you know him?” Oliver asks after John again.

You sigh, “I’ll tell you later.”

You don’t get to flop into bed at the end of your evening routine; tonight, Homelander visits your suite, snacking on your food as he waits for you. “All this, for that.”

“All what?” you inquire.

“Being late. The problems with other parents. Patrol shifts. And that’s not even going into which kid’s the real one.”

“The real —what?”

“You heard the other parent, didn’t you? One of them has powers; the other doesn’t; one’s the real one, and the other’s just human.”

“So, what?” you ask, oblivious to whatever is running through his mind.

“Human. Weak —you can’t seriously say you’d still care as much if one of them was a plain old human.”

You take a measured breath, “I would,” you begin, “I’d pick them over my own powers any day,” you state, grabbing the food he’d taken and putting it away, “Is that it?”

“Go out with me.”

“Fuck off.”

End Note:

I had to resist the immediate urge to pick magic for a superpower, cause it's my default every time 💀 Stay Hydrated.

[pvffinsdaisies]

The Nordics as Taylor Swift songs

The UK & Ireland as Taylor Swift songs.

DENMARK: Castles Crumbling (feat. Hayley Williams) (Taylor’s Version) (From The Vault)

“Once I had an empire, in the golden age. I was held up so high, I used to be great. They used to cheer when they saw my face, now I fear I have fallen from grace.

And I feel like my castle’s crumbling down, and I watched all my bridges burn to the ground, and you don’t want to know me, I will just let you down. You don’t wanna know me now.

(…)

Power went to my head, and I couldn’t stop: ones I loved tried to help, so I ran them off. And here I sit alone, behind walls of regret, falling down like promises that I never kept.

(…)

My foes and friends watched my reign end, I don’t know how it could’ve ended this way. Smoke billows from my ship to the harbour. People look at me like I’m a monster, now they’re screaming at the palace front gate, used to chant my name, now they’re screaming that they hate me. I never wanted you to hate me…”

FINLAND: the Lakes

“Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die. I don’t belong and, my beloved, neither do you. Those Windermere peaks look like the perfect place to cry. I’m setting off, but not without my muse.

What should be over burrowed under my skin in heart-stopping waves of hurt. I’ve come too far to watch some namedropping sleaze tell me what are my words worth.

(…)

I want auroras and sad prose, I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet, ‘cause I haven’t moved in years. And I want you right here. A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground, with no one around to tweet it. While I bathe in cliffside pools, with my calamitous love and insurmountable grief.”

ICELAND: A Place in this World

“I don’t know what I want, so don’t ask me, ‘cause I’m still tryna figure it out. Don’t know what’s down this road, I’m just walking, tryna see through the rain coming down. Even though I’m not the only one, who feels the way I do.

(…)

Got the radio on, my old blue jeans and I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve. Feeling lucky today, could you tell me what more do I need? And tomorrow’s just a mystery, but that’s okay.

(…)

Maybe I’m just a girl on a mission, but I’m ready to fly!

I’m alone, on my own, and that’s all I know. I’ll be strong, I’ll be wrong, oh but life goes on. Oh, I’m alone, on my own, and that’s all I know. Oh, I’m just a girl, tryna find a place in this world.”

NORWAY: Evermore (feat. Bon Iver)

“I replay the footsteps on each stepping stone, trying to find the one where I went wrong. Writing letters, addressed to the fire.

(…)

Hey December, guess I’m feeling unmoored. Can’t remember what I used to fight for.

(…)

And I was catching my breath, barefoot in the wildest winter, catching my death. And I couldn’t be sure, I had a feeling so peculiar, that this pain would be for evermore.

Can’t not think of all the cost, and the things that will be lost. Oh, can we just get a pause? To be certain we’ll be tall again. Whether weather be the frost, or the violence of the dog days. I’m on waves, out being tossed. Is there a line that I can just go cross?

And when I was shipwrecked, I thought of you. In the cracks of light, I dreamed of you, it was real enough to get me through. But I swear, you were there.

And I was catching my breath, floors of a cabin creaking under my step. And I couldn’t be sure, I had a feeling so peculiar, this pain wouldn’t be for evermore.”

SWEDEN: Foolish One (Taylor’s Version) (From The Vault)

“You know how to keep me waiting, I know how to act like I’m fine. Don’t know what to call this situation, but I know I can’t call you mine. And it’s delicate, but I will do my best to seem bulletproof. ‘Cause when my head is on your shoulder, it starts thinking you’ll come around. And maybe someday when we’re older, this is something we’ll laugh about over coffee every morning, while you’re watching the news.

But then the voices say, “you are not the exception. You will never learn your lesson.”

Foolish one, stop checking your mailbox for confessions of love that ain’t never gonna come. You will take the long way, you will take the long way down. Foolish one, stop checking your mailbox for confessions of love that ain’t never gonna come, you will learn the hard way, instead of just walking out.

Now I’m sliding down the walls with my head in hands, sayin’, “how could I not see the signs?” Oh, you haven’t written me or called, but goodbye screaming in the silence, and the voices in my head are telling me why.

(…)

Ain’t never gonna come, oh, you will learn the hard way now. Foolish one, sittin’ round waiting for your confessions of love, they ain’t never gonna come. And thinking he’s the one, you should’ve been walking out. Foolish one, the day is gonna come for your confessions of love, when all is said and done, he just wasn’t the one. No, he just wasn’t the one.”

[aphroditestummyrolls]

Food. I met up with a beloved friend for coffee, so that was breakfast— oat latte and cinnamon scroll (this place has the best cinnamon scrolls, with orange zest and ground almonds in the filling, I will be trying to mimic the exact ratio of their flavour for the rest of my life).

Lunch was a quesadilla. As per my custom.

In the ✨Little Victories✨ category of the day, I went to do a little cursory shopping for the many weddings I’m attending this year, and became OBSESSED with a suit. I didn’t flinch at the mirror, I didn’t balk when the shop attendant suggested I size up in the trousers (the fabric has a tendency to run small, and UK sizing is such a dizzying thing anyway), and I didn’t start planning my next diet until after I set the suit on hold.

I feel at least a little awful, but it was weirdly gender affirming, validating, and fun. It feels like good progress both for these events, and in my little brain.

The hard part will be not giving in to the urge to diet. It always is.

[madiomens]

Just Pretend [n.s.]

Chapter Ten

Warning: Slight angst, small mention of past abuse

The rest of the shows in the UK went on without another mishap like the first show had and before I knew it, we were landing in France for the two shows we had there. Noah insisted we now had to christen every Airbnb and hotel we stay in so he fucked the life out of me at 6 AM after we arrived to the Airbnb. Best part was when Jolly walked into his room and I had to hide under the covers until he left after the ten minute conversation he insisted on having with Noah.

We had an entire day free to do whatever and prep for the shows, which is how I was currently standing on top of the Eiffel Tower with the guys.

I leaned against the railing and closed my eyes as the cool Paris wind whipped around my face, sending a shiver down my body and causing me to pull my cardigan tighter around my body. November in France was completely different than November in California. Instead of a cool sunny it was a cool gloomy, dark clouds hanging over us as thunder rumbled in the distance from the impending storm. Noah's scent caused me to snap out of my trance, opening my eyes to see him leaning against the rail beside me with a soft grin.

"Hi." He said, corner of his mouth twitching up.

I smiled back. "Hi."

"What you thinking about?" He questioned, bumping his shoulder against mine.

I shook my head. "Absolutely nothing, for once in my life."

His smile softened as he pushed a piece of hair behind my ear, causing my heart to race as his eyes searched mine. I stared at him for a few more moments before forcing myself to break eye contact and stare out across the landscape, my heart beating incredibly too fast for my liking. I don't know what it is about this man that makes my heart want to leap from this Eiffel Tower but I'm still trying to figure out if I like it or not.

"You guys want to go back to the Airbnb and grab stuff to show prep?" Nicholas asked us as he joined my side.

I breathed a sigh of relief to get a break from the racehorses running around my chest and nodded at him. "I would love to make a huge cup of coffee before we head to the venue."

"Make me one too?" Nicholas said, batting his eyes.

I snorted and nodded at him. "Of course." I turned to see Noah pouting at me, lip dramatically poked out and causing me to laugh. "Yes, I will make you some too."

He grinned and wrapped his arms around me as Nicholas did, squishing me between them. I wrapped an arm around Noah's waist and tried to maneuver one around Nicholas from my squished position with a laugh. 

"We loooove you, Maddie." Nicholas said, resting his head on mine.

I laughed and shook my head at them. "I love you too, dorks."

They unwrapped their arms from me before we made our way down the elevator to solid ground. Our Airbnb was a short walk from here so we headed out, hoping the storm didn't downpour on us before we made it. Sprinkles started hitting our heads as we unlocked the house and walked in, thunder sending a spark of anxiety through my chest as I slightly jumped at the loudness of it. I saw Noah looking at me in concern as we walked into the kitchen and I sent him a breathy laugh.

"Sorry. Me and storms don't get along." I said as I grabbed stuff to make our coffee while the other guys began packing show stuff.

"Did something happen?" He asked as he leaned against the counter to watch me.

The corner of my mouth twitched up while I began pouring instant coffee crystals into mugs. "Without getting too dark, I had a shitty ex who would put his hands on me. The worst of it happened during a storm." Noah went silent, causing me to look up at him. My eyes met his concerned face, eyebrows pinched together as his frown deepened into anger. I reached across the counter to squeeze his arm. "It's okay, I'm fine now."

He clenched his jaw as his eyes stayed locked onto mine. "Where is he now?"

I sighed and let go of his arm as I turned to fill up the mugs with water and put them in the microwave. "Here, probably. He was from Paris."

A breeze washed over me as Noah rushed to my side once I started the microwave, grabbing my face to make me look at him. "Any chance he'd be at any of the shows here?"

I chewed on my bottom lip as I looked into his eyes. "A high chance. I've tried not to think about it."

His jaw clenched more. "I'll fuck him up."

I let out a breathy laugh and placed my hand on his. "Trust me, I will too."

"Everything ok?" Nicholas' voice questioned from behind us.

We turned to look at him standing with Jolly and Folio at the entrance to the kitchen, concern on their faces. Noah looked at me as if asking if it was ok to tell them and I sent him a small nod before looking back at the guys.

"Maddie has a shitty ex who lives here and might possibly be at the show. He put his hands on her when they were together, and I will fuck him up if I see him." Noah said, anger seeping into his words. Anger appeared on the other guys' faces as they walked over to us, setting their bags on the ground. 

Folio placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. "Will you show us a picture of him so we can also fuck him up if needed?"

I laughed and pulled out my phone, scrolling way back in my camera roll to find the one picture I still had for times like this. I turned the screen around to show them the picture and Noah took my phone to look at it closer, the guys squeezing in beside him to see it.

"Looks like a pussy." Noah said, causing me to laugh more.

"I can take him." Folio said, flexing his muscles as hard as he possibly could, Nicholas and Jolly agreeing.

I shook my head a them and wrapped my arms around them for a group hug. They wrapped their arms around me as well, smothering me in their embrace. "Thank you, guys."

"Of course. We're a family now, you always have us." Nicholas said.

The microwave beeping caused us to break apart and I pulled out the mugs, setting them on the counter to start putting creamer into them. I screwed the lids on and handed them out to everyone, all of them placing quick kisses on my cheek in thanks. The other guys walked away and I grabbed a mug to hand to Noah, stopping one I saw him staring down at the ground.

"Hey." I said, grabbing his hand with my free one and causing him to look up at me. "It's ok. All in the past."

He sighed and grabbed the mug from my hand, squeezing the one I was holding with his own. "Makes me sick guys do that to women. Even more sick someone did it to you."

I softly grinned at him. "Getting protective, are we?"

He squinted his eyes at me, causing me to laugh. "I've come to realize I'd do anything to protect you."

I chewed on the inside of my lip to stifle the grin that threatened to explode onto my face. "I'd do anything to protect you, too."

I broke our eye contact and turned to screw the lid onto my mug so we could head out with the guys, picking up a backpack from the ground and throwing it over my shoulder. Noah did the same with a duffle bag and we headed out to the car waiting for us, piling in so we could set off to the venue.

My phone buzzed with a message while we were setting up and I set down the tape I was using to pull it out, my old manager's name flashing across the screen.

"GIRL. Please tell me this tension isn't fake. Because, WHEW."

The message included a screenshot of the post Bryan made that included me wrapping Noah's hands for him, our eye contact strong as the tension hopped out of the screen. I chuckled at her message, quickly typing one back.

"A girl never kisses and tells. Miss you."

I put the phone back into my pocket and shook my head at her with a smile, finishing up what I was working on.

We finished up at the venue and grabbed a quick dinner before returning to the Airbnb for the night, jet lag weighing on us heavily. I crawled into my bed and closed my eyes before a loud crack of thunder caused me to jump and sit straight up, my heart pounding as my chest heaved.

I grabbed my phone off the nightstand to text Noah, my hands shaking.

"Are you awake?"

As I sent a message, Noah sent one right as mine said delivered.

"Room across the hall from you."

I softly smiled, realizing he thought of me as soon as the thunder went off.

I pushed myself out of bed, pulling the sleeves of my hoodie over my hands when a chill went through my body. I softly opened the door to my room and walked across the hall to Noah's room, slowly twisting the doorknob. I jumped as another crack of thunder sounded off, my eyes landing on Noah walking up to me in the dim lighting of his bedside lamp. He grabbed my hand to pull me into his room, shutting the door behind us before wrapping his arms around me in comfort.

"I didn't want you alone for this storm after what you told me." He said into my hair as I stayed firmly pressed against him, his arms wrapped around me tightly.

I inhaled his scent deeply, my heartbeat slowing down. "Thank you."

He pulled back and nodded his head toward his bed, leading me to it. I climbed onto the mattress as he did the same, holding his arms out to pull me onto his chest.

"You never have to be alone for storms ever again."

That was the first night I've slept soundly during a storm since I left my ex. I woke up the next morning on my side, Noah's arms wrapped around me tightly from behind as his chest was pressed firmly against my back. A soft grin slid onto my face as I sighed and settled into him more, placing my hand on top of the one that was rested against my stomach. He stirred from behind me, signaling he was waking up.

He tightened his grip on my midsection and leaned down to kiss the top of my head. "Morning." He said, sleepiness causing his voice to be deep and husky.

I rolled over in his grasp, facing his chest and nuzzling my face into it. "Good morning."

He pushed my hair off my forehead and leaned down to place a soft kiss onto it. "Did you sleep?"

I nodded against his chest and pulled my head back to look up at him. "First storm I've slept through in forever." He grinned sleepily at me as I leaned up to place my lips on his, holding the kiss for a bit before pulling back. "Thank you."

"Like I said, you never have to be alone for storms ever again." He rasped out, placing another chaste kiss on my lips.

I grinned and rolled onto my back to stretch out my tired muscles. "What time is it?"

He reached behind him to grab his phone off the nightstand, squinting at the brightness. "11."

"I'm still not used to sleeping past 8." I said with a breathy chuckle as I sat up. "We should probably get ready and head to the venue for VIP."

He groaned and rolled over, throwing his arm around my waist. "I just wanna stay here all day." He said, voice muffled by the pillow.

I chuckled and scratched his head, messing his hair up even more. "Me too, but you got a job to do."

He sighed and leaned up to place a chaste kiss on my lips before hopping out of bed. "Shower with me?"

I smiled and crawled out of his bed. "Let me get a change of clothes."

He followed me to his bedroom door, swinging it open to reveal Nicholas with his fist raised about to knock on the door. His eyes widened as they landed on us, looking back and forth.

My heart skipped a beat as I looked at him, racking my brain to come up with an excuse. "I don't do well with storms and Noah was awake."

Nicholas nodded as if he bought my excuse. "I have CBD sleep gummies if you think they'd ever help."

I nodded. "Thank you, that means a lot." I said with a smile.

He smiled back at me and turned his attention to Noah. "I was just seeing if you were up. We're about to shower and get ready to leave."

"I'm about to do the same." Noah said, looking as if he was fighting a blush creeping up his neck.

I stifled a laugh and squeezed past Nicholas. "I'll do the same and meet you guys out there."

Nicholas shot me a ghost of a smirk, causing me to push the smile down as I escaped into my room, closing the door behind me. I snorted as I walked over to my bed to put my phone on the charger, seeing Noah's name pop up on the screen.

"Come back please."

I smirked as I read it, typing back a reply.

"Enjoy your shower."

I heard him groan from his room, causing me to laugh as I gathered my stuff to shower.  An hour later we had eaten and were pulling up outside the venue. I slung my bag of clothes for the show over my shoulder we we piled out of the car, excited screams echoing around us from the fans who had already begun lining up. We waved at them before heading inside, rushing to get soundcheck done and finish setting up by the time VIP rolled around.

VIP finished and I was making my way back to the barricade after the opening acts performed.

"Hi, Maddie!" A couple girls greeted me.

I smiled and made my way to them. "Hi, guys. You doing alright?"

They nodded at me. "We have a question for you."

I cocked my brow at them. "What's up?"

"Are you and Noah dating?" The taller brunette questioned me.

My eyes widened before I laughed. "No, we're not."

"I'm sorry for asking, you two just seem extremely close. And the picture Bryan posted was the hottest thing I've ever seen." The brunette said, fanning her face dramatically.

I laughed, tossing my head back as the two girls joined in. "I'll blame it on the good lighting. The guys and I are just close. Being together 24/7 makes that inevitable."

"True. I'm sorry for asking! You two just look really good together." She said with a smile.

I smiled back at her. "Don't apologize. Thank you, though!"

I took a picture with them and a few other people before hopping up on the box I sit on. The guys performed perfectly in my eyes. They were full of energy and Noah's vocals were practically pristine. He seemed to keep his eyes on me more ever since the hiccup we had in the UK, causing me to chuckle every time I noticed it. 

We packed up a few things after the show and took quick showers backstage, changing into more comfortable clothes before heading outside to greet a few fans at the gates. I helped Noah carry the last set of boxes we didn't want to leave at the arena over night to the van when I heard a voice speak up from the crowd.

"Maddie?" A male voice called out.

I froze in my spot, the box I was carrying of merch crashing onto the ground. My ears started ringing and my chest heaved as my heart rate spiked at the familiar voice. I saw Noah look at me from the corner of my eye. His voice sounded like it was at the end of a tunnel as he talked to me, causing me to jerk my eyes to him. His eyebrows were pinched together in concern as he set his box down and grabbed my hands with his.

"What's wrong?" He questioned, my hearing focusing on his voice.

"Maddie, is that you?" The same male voice called out from the crowd.

My eyes got wider as I started at Noah, my hands shaking in his grasp. He turned to look at the crowd, squinting to see them better. His teeth clenched harshly and eyes darkened as his eyes landed on the person who was calling my name.

"Noah, don't." I said, voice shaking.

I looked over and saw the rest of the guys approaching us in confusion. Noah nodded his head towards the crowd, causing the guys to see the person Noah was staring down. Their faces hardened once their eyes landed on him. Noah's chest heaved as he turned to walk towards the crowd.

"Noah!" Folio exclaimed as Noah's steps quickened to the gate.

He grabbed the shirt of Gabriel, my ex's, shirt and brought his fist back before harshly landing it onto Gabriel's face. The sound of the punch echoed around us as surprised gasps came from the crowd of fans.

"Noah, stop!" I yelled as I rushed over to them, my feet finally working again.

Gabriel hopped over the gate to try and fight back but was met with Noah's fist again, this time knocking him to the ground. Security ran over to pull the two apart, escorting Gabriel away from us.

"Got another person to do your dirty work. I'll be seeing you again, you bitch." Gabriel spit out as he was dragged away.

Noah's chest heaved as he struggled to regain his breath before he turned and stomped away from everyone. I put my hand on my chest to try and calm my heart while Folio and Jolly checked on me, Nicholas rushing after Noah.

I turned to the crowd, looking over their shocked faces. "I'm so sorry, everyone."

"Whatever he did I'm sure he deserved it. I want to punch him too." A girl at the front said, causing others to agree with her.

I breathily laughed, my heart slowly calming down. I apologized again before making my way to a van to go back to the Airbnb. Nicholas and Noah had already head out in another van so it was just me, Folio, and Jolly. The ride was silent other than the soft music playing over the speakers. My leg anxiously bounced up and down as I chewed on my lip to try and suppress the tears that stung against my eyes, threatening to fall down my face. We got out of the van once we got back to the house and I rushed to the front door, a stray tear falling. I rushed inside to hide my face and began making my way down the hallway. Muffled voices came from Noah's room, anger evident in them.

"I'm not saying I wouldn't have done the same thing, because I was tempted to once I saw his fucking face, but you can't just go around punching people. No matter how much they deserve it. We're in the spotlight, especially you." Nicholas said.

"Fucker deserved it. How could he put his hands on someone like Maddie? She doesn't deserve that shit. He deserved a taste of his own medicine." Noah seethed out, the sound of pacing footsteps echoing on the wood floors.

I softly knocked on the door, causing them to stop talking. A few moments of silence followed before the door opened to reveal a red faced Noah and the usual calm face of Nicholas, other than the furrowed brows he was sporting.

"Maddie." Nicholas said, stepping forward to wrap his arms around me in a hug.

I hugged him back and sniffled, not realizing a few tears had fallen down my face. I instantly became embarrassed that I was crying in front of the guys and reached up to discreetly wipe them away. Nicholas pulled back from the hug and placed his hands on my shoulders.

"I am so sorry the dumbass decided to show his face there. There's no way he didn't know you were with us." He said, squeezing my shoulders. 

I gave him a soft smile. "Not your fault. I knew it was a possibility."

He shrugged. "Not my fault but I still feel bad. You know we got your back."

"Thank you. It really means a lot to me." I replied, reaching up to squeeze his hands.

He gave me a soft smile before walking out of Noah's room, leaving just the two of us behind. My eyes met the side of his face, his fists balled at his sides. I noticed blood on his knuckles and silently walked out of his room into mine to grab a first aid kid. I walked back in and softly shut the door behind me, causing Noah to snap his eyes towards me. Anger was still evident in his face but his features softened slightly once he saw the tears on mine.

"Sit." I said, motioning towards the bed.

He complied and sat down before I followed suit, sitting beside him. I gently took his hand into mine and inspected the damage he did. His knuckles were bloody and swollen from how hard he hit Gabriel. I sniffed and blinked back tears as I opened the kit, pulling out a disinfectant wipe.

"This might sting some." I said, voice wavering from emotions. I gently pat his knuckles, causing him to suck in air through his teeth at the stinging. "Sorry" I whispered, continuing the patting motion. I wiped up all the blood before putting ointment on them carefully with a cotton swab. 

My brows furrowed as a new wave of emotion came over me, my vision becoming blurry from the tears that pooled in my eyes. He brought his free hand up to cradle my face, causing me to bring my eyes up to meet his. I sniffed as I fought the tears that threatened to fall, causing his eyes to soften even further. 

"Maddie." He whispered. The gentle tone of his voice was enough to cause the flood gates to open and I dropped my head into my free hand, tears rolling down my face and into the sleeve of my hoodie.

He brought his arms up to wrap around me, pulling me onto his lap so he was holding me. My body shook with my crying as he soothed me, gently rocking me back and forth and cradling my head against his chest.

"I'm so sorry to cause such a problem at your show. I'm so sorry." I sobbed out, strong sniffles breaking up my words.

"No, Maddie, don't you dare apologize. He deserved more than what he got." He said against my hair, placing a kiss there.

I nodded against his chest as my crying slowed down, now replaced with stray tears and hiccups. Noah kept rocking us gently until my hiccups subsided, just sniffles left behind. He leaned his head back and lifted my chin so I would look at him. He brought his thumb up to wipe away the tears that were left, rubbing them off onto his hoodie.

"Never apologize for something that wasn't your fault. You never have to feel sorry with me." He whispered, hand still cradling my face.

I nodded as I looked into his eyes before he leaned down to place a kiss on my lips, causing all my worry and anxiety to leave and be replaced with content. He pulled away and searched my eyes, his own much softer than they were before. He kept our eye contact before bringing his lips back onto mine, rougher than before.

"I want to make you forget the night."

[carexclusive]

Irish Driving Tour: A 5-Day Event by Performance Car Exclusive  

Supercar owners are always on the search for the finest roads where they can unleash the powerful acceleration of their speed machines without a second thought. After all, even though supercars, the pinnacle of automotive engineering, demand high maintenance throughout the years, they are designed to seamlessly glide through racetracks and expressways at a blistering pace. Therefore, as a supercar owner who’s in love with his/her ride, it is your duty to take your luxury vehicle out for some adventure every once in a while.   

Eliminating the Risks from Supercar Adventures  

We completely understand how costly supercar adventures can become if the road conditions don’t favour your car’s speed, acceleration, tyres, and low ground clearance. Moreover, most roads aren’t made for supercars, meaning a supercar can take a lot of damage even if one drives it responsibly. This is where Performance Car Exclusive comes in. They are a car membership club where supercar owners can enrol to access exclusive supercar events that happen all year round at beautiful destinations that make for memorable adventures.   

“Our community is a welcoming space for those passionate about luxury and supercars. Where lovers of opulence unite, creating an enthusiastic and supportive group that celebrates the fascinating car world. Whether it's the latest models or rare vintage treasures, our members' cars and events cater to all tastes.” states the marketing manager, PCE Club.   

You can count on Performance Car Exclusive as it's a UK supercar club where you would not only get to be a part of thrilling expeditions, but also interact with like-minded supercar owners who love to explore the world of velocity brought into reality by the likes of Lamborghini, Ferrari, Bugatti, and other renowned manufacturers.   

The Irish Driving Tour: For Endless Speed-Filled Turns  

If you’ve bumped into multiple obstacles whenever planning a super adventure with your supercar, it’s time for you to get rid of all worries as PCE brings the Irish Driving Tour; the perfect opportunity for all supercar owners to make lasting memories on the road.   

Planned for late September, the event is a 5-day driving tour where you would get to discover the heart of Southern Ireland in your supercar along with the quality company of supercar friends! When it comes to exploring the serene and picturesque paths of Ireland which consists of green hills, rugged cliffs, and coastlines, supercar drives emerge as the best way to capture all the vivid details that await you. Along with the thrill-filled rides, you would also get to enjoy multiple lunches and coffee stops while staying in premium hotels during the tour. For more details about the Irish Driving Tour and upcoming super car events, visit the website and join as a member now!  

About Performance Car Exclusive  

Performance Car Exclusive works to assist supercar owners in celebrating and appreciating high performance cars. Their aim is to create a community of like-minded individuals and provide them with the perfect platform to experience the utmost thrill of driving supercars. You can enroll in their club as an associate or standard member to receive various benefits.   

[muninnhuginn]

9, 12, 31, 43!!!

Thanks for asking! Actually responding to my asks immediately for once o7 #progress

9. which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

I don't like coffee at all, so I'll cheat and answer as hot chocolate? Generally, hot hot chocolate is the best, but ngl the few times I've been in warmer countries that've had iced milo it was so refreshing

12. what kind of day is it?

An unfocused day. Or week. Unfocused month, actually. Trundling along not doing as much as I should be because my concentration is shot, but managing to at least get through my minimum 'to-dos' so I'm taking it for what it is. Had a headache for half the week, but the painkillers are actually working now so I just feel like a weird absence of headache where there should be one. So, yeah, unfocused day.

31. what type of music keeps you grounded?

Really vibing with a specific flavour of chill-sounding jpop lately. Yonezu Kenshi always solid, some Vaundy, Sekai No Owari, Eve... also less chill but some Zutomayo too

43. what’s your take on spicy foods?

Honestly? Depends on my mood. I've never really gone for the super extreme end, but I go for 'medium' (disclaimer: this is UK medium so not too hot on the international scale) fairly regularly and sometimes step up from that with hot wings or ramen, etc

[chesacakeripper]

In equally uninteresting news, I'm vaguely experimenting with different ways to prepare coffee.

Now, I drink coffee way more often than I used to, but I'm primarily an (upmarket brand of) instant coffee drinker, as is often the way in the uk. But we have some grounds, and lidl recently had an offer on some of their grounds and I bought these without realising they were the same as the ones we already had (which we have had open for way longer than the best before 2 weeks when opened thing but fuck it) so I decided I should probably try and make an effort to drink that.

We own:

- small moka pot

- small cafetiere

- pour over cup on cup for use with filter paper

The last couple days I've tried each method, and at some point I'm gonna have a full mad scientist episode and make them all at the same time to directly compare.

Moka pot took the longest and I paired that with milk frothed in a velvetiser (don't ask, grandparents got it for us for Christmas and it makes extremely expensive hot chocolates but also froths milk pretty good). Coffee was nice (verrrry foamy, use a bigger mug or less milk next time). Some anxiety waiting for it to bubble (have an electric stove rather than gas so adds to both time and anxiety). moka pot slightly annoying to clean with all it's separate parts.

Cafetiere was good Americano coffee, time taken was medium as you gotta wait for it to brew. Interactive with the plunger (fun element). Slightly but less annoying to clean than the moka pot, not as many stray grounds about.

Have just made a pour over coffee. Definitely both the quickest to make (as soon as it's filtered it's done) and easiest to clean as filter paper taken out all in one, so no stray grounds, and quick rinse good enough for the apparatus.

These are my preliminary notes. If I do this properly (maybe Monday after I've finished nights? Partner WFH day and possible subject for single blind taste trial) I'll do a proper write up. Maybe in dead time this weekend I can work on methods for statistical analysis.

[dreamsister81]

Bunjies: London, March 18, 1994

A few years ago, I had the honor and pleasure to speak with photographer Gavin Woods who, along with his friend Al, had the fortune to attend this show (as well as Andy's Forge). Gavin took these photos and was kind enough to share them with me, but I never posted them per his request. However, with the sad news of his passing in 2021, I feel it's time to share them to honor him, Jeff, and this iconic moment in Jeff history. Here then, is his story. RIP Gavin, and thanks for everything...❤️🙏🏼🕯️

.

.

.

"I’d never heard of him. Saw a tiny picture in the UK music press and phoned a mate up...He was a Tim Buckley fan and was telling me about him a week before. I said that Tim’s son was playing a coffee bar in London.

He said that it was uncanny as he had put on Tim's 'Starsailor' about ten minutes before I called...I said I’m going, he said he’s going. It had sold out on the door but we blagged our way in. It was simply the best. Of the music I’ve ever witnessed and will ever witness by a mile.

Then after Bunjies he did another gig immediately in an old Blacksmiths in Denmark street. To about 15 or so of us? I don’t know how many but not many. We sat and chatted until very late. He signed stuff and I went home a different person. You felt like the only person in the world. He asked where I’d come from, how long it took, how long to get back, thanked me for coming. Genuine interest though, not superficial.

Most gigs I think about for a couple of days I was still high after a week with Jeff. I have a small piece of paper Jeff signed for me, says "hey Gavin! Go to sleep. I’ll see you again real soon yeah? Love Jeff" plus the date and location. I think we left london at 1.40 AM and had an hour and a half journey home!

At Bunjies everyone there got given a rose or a tulip. I had mine until it basically disintegrated...Put it in a pot pourri and told my wife never to throw it away, she never listened to me!!

Hey hi. It’s gone back to the ground. Circle of life and all that. I should have pressed it though."

[docholligay]

What's the three best and three worst places you've been?

I assume this is like, cities, and not, you know, prison.

Cities to which I very likely can and will return someday I enjoyed them so much:

London, UK

Boston, USA

Minneapolis, USA

Glasgow, UK (I know this is four I know I know shut up)

Cities where I am unlikely ever to darken their door except by absolute necessity:

St. Louis, USA

Cambridge, UK

Atlanta, USA

I enjoy so many more places than I do not enjoy, and this was shockingly hard for me in the positive to narrow it down to three. I have friends outside of London and Boston, and so I had to think carefully on whether or not that affected my answer. I enjoy seeing them, and so that's always a positive.

So, what cities would I return to outside of getting to see a single person I know? The other problem with this is I'll go almost fucking anywhere, I am a very adaptable person and find many ways to have a good time. Even NYC, which was very very hard for me the first time I went, I think I've figured out how to have a great time there. So even my bottom of the barrel, given a cheap and easy chance, I'd probably give another shot, just with knowing what I know now and trying to massage the things I didn't like.

London: Samuel Johnson said that when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life, and that's remained true for me. Not only is there a lot to do--this is true of many big cities--but the vibe of the city is much more low to the ground is the only way I can think of to say it, compared to NYC and LA, both of which genuinely have a lot offer but feel extremely frenetic to me in a way London does not. Narrowly beat out Paris simply because the subway is better than Paris'. Also it is I think more chill than Paris, but I sort of like the ways Paris is out of its mind.

Boston: This is another one I would call "Low to the ground" in a way that I think makes no sense to anyone but me. It feels like people live in Boston. Also I eat my weight in oysters at least once a trip. Great food scene on both expensive and cheap ends.

Minneapolis: The whole world is sleeping on Minneapolis. They have a rapidly growing food scene, great craft beer scene, the sculpture park is immense amounts of fun even in winter (a/n: I am cold-hardy), and minnesota nice is a REAL thing. We walked into a brewery and were standing at the counter, I said something offhandedly to Jetty about how it was real wet and cold out that day, and the guy at the counter was like, "Oh you don't have to buy a beer just to get out of the cold! Go ahead." I wanted the beer, mind, but I thought the attitude was great. We went to a piano bar that made its own mini pop tarts that were shockingly great, also go to Black Sheep Coal Fired for pizza.

Glasgow: I will spend the rest of my natural life trying to talk people into going to Glasgow, and probably fail because everyone wants to go fucking Edinburgh because it's instagrammable and ~'arry Potter~ and whatever. Anyhow, I did not hate Edinburgh at all despite that bitter little screed, but much like Minneapolis, people are sleeping on Glasgow. Great boutique hotels at extremely fair prices, amazing Indian food (Dishoom did beat Mother India out, but damn is it close as fuck, and Ashoka won for me for casual Indian), and again, like Minneapolis: The people. Are so. Nice. Legit if I had left my passport on a bus in any other city I feel I would have been fucked, but on a weekend, the bus system and the extremely nice people at the coffee shop were all working to try and get it back to me (and we did!) And the gal at our little hotel took time to chat with us every evening (full disclosure: She was Irish, and when she found out we were from a rural part of America, she spent so so much time trying to talk us into rural Ireland for our next trip, because we'd love the vibe of it. Someday), and I had the ABSOLUTE WORST old fashioned of my life made by the most amazingly kind woman in history, and I drank the whole thing and thanked her profusely. The pub near our hotel was incredible and homey (little boutique hotels are in neighborhoods there. Fantastic.) Glaswegians GET THEIR PARTY ON EARLY, mind.

[oflowtides]

⸻  JOHN GALLAGHER JR. HE/HIM  / have you ever heard of I WISH I COULD GO BACK TO COLLEGE by avenue q obc, well, it describes JAMES ‘JIMMY’ BRUMEIER to a tee! the thirty seven year old, and DESK CLERK was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say HE is more unproductive or more BOYISH instead? anyway, they remind me of crooked ties, coffee ring stains on a nice desk, unruly hair no matter how many times you comb it and never really wanting to grow up, maybe you’ll bump into them soon!

time in notting hill: ten years

The best word to describe Jimmy would be unmotivated. He never had much of a drive to do anything other than play video games or binge watch shows and movies. Growing up, it was like pulling teeth to try to get him to do his homework and participate in class, or even get a part time job because he really just didn't want to do it. Despite this, he didn't hate school; the structure was reassuring and helped keep him on a schedule despite the late nights doing whatever it was he wanted to do with his free time.

There were a number of reasons for Jimmy to show up to school every day - one of them being he had to, but the other was Yale Cameron. She was both his best friend and his longest relationship - the pair dated for two years, and there was no one he felt more comfortable or at ease around. He had been convinced for a while that she was his soul mate, and while that still rang true after they broke up, it was not in the way he had initially thought. However, the two became a packaged deal, rarely going anywhere without the other, and their closeness and lack of boundaries often made their respective dating life hard.

Everyone who knew him was only half shocked to hear he actually wanted to go to college - his lack of drive in school lead most people to believe that he'd graduate high school and wash his hands with schooling, but the idea of more personal freedom coupled with the structure Jimmy clung to was too enticing. He barely scraped by and managed to get into a state school, and the cycle started over - but this time he tended to skip more classes so he could party or sleep or play video games all day. He failed his first year, which wasn't a shock to anyone, but he didn't get kicked out either, so the cycle continued.

He did manage to graduate (a few semesters later than the peers he started with however) and spent the first six months doing nothing but buying lotto tickets and sitting around doing nothing, living close to campus because student housing was cheaper and he refused to move back home. This weirdly paid off, as Jimmy won the jackpot. Suddenly he had more money than he knew what he could or even should do with - so he decided that he should move to the UK because there was nothing tying him down (especially because Yale was moving with him - he wasn't going to go anywhere without his platonic life partner).

The move was surprisingly easy - though he kept the fact that he was now nearly a millionaire to himself. He decided to get a desk job to keep himself busy, and to have a means of income to at least explain where he got money to do stuff with. The structure of an office was good for him - he's too aimless without someone telling him what to do and when to do it - but despite being in a more 'grown up' environment, he was still stuck in a college boy mindset, and that was very evident from the way he ate, talked, and often dressed outside of the office. It was either charming or a huge turn off - Jimmy found there was rarely a middle ground.

He hasn't burned through too much of the money; rarely wanting to draw that much attention to himself or want to make big purchases, he still has about half of it after all this time, sitting in a savings account. Only the Cameron siblings know about it, as they're more or less his own siblings at this point. He could mature a little more if you asked anyone who knew him, but his personality is pleasant enough, eager to step up and help anyone who needs it with minimal complaining depending on the task, and sometimes his more immature outlook on life can remind people that not everything needs to be so serious all the time.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

AO3 (10) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine

A Perfect Pair (ao3) - husbants

Summary: Dan, a struggling actor who works retail by day, and Phil, an ex-YouTuber-turned-porn-star, end up matched together on the new reality show, Perfect Pair.

Barbie Horse Adventures (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Sometimes friends force you to get over your worst fears, sometimes you meet your soulmate in the process.

Betta Late Than Never (ao3) - indistinct_echo

Summary: Dan hires Phil to therapize his betta. They get along swimmingly.

Better Off (ao3) - tellsfromhale

Summary: Dan's relationship with his family has been getting better, but when his mum drops the bomb that she's seeing someone and wants Dan to meet him, Dan doesn't know how to handle it.

break free (ao3) - wiccamoody

Summary: Dan is a competitor on the first season of RuPaul's Drag Race UK.

Broken Like You (ao3) - TearDrop1234

Summary: Dan and Phil meet at a theater in a nowhere town. Their friendship is instant, but the rest not so much.

canon in d (ao3) - danhoweiis

Summary: dan goes out to a bar and a stranger buys him a drink. what happens next may surprise you! [not clickbait]

Caught (ao3) - hygge

Summary: Just because they weren’t together anymore didn’t mean that Dan couldn’t read phanfiction while he got off, right? Or at least that’s what he thought before Phil walked into the room.

close up magic (ao3) - queerofcups

Summary: Phil is a witch. Dan finds out.

dan is not a pianist (ao3) - Marranje

Summary: How Phil went from watching the pianist and youtuber Dan from afar to being by his side through the most important moments of their lives.

easy for you to say (ao3) - phantasticworks

Summary: Phil tries to convince Dan to throw away the grey shirt. Dan can’t do it.

familiar faces (ao3) - watergator

Summary: there's a handsome tesco delivery man standing in phil's doorway and he can't figure out where he recognises him from. until he does

Flatmates (ao3) - intoapuddle

Summary: oh my god they were flatmates / the fuckboy!phil au we all deserve

(TW) Get Out Your Damn Umbrellas (ao3) - llamalamp

Summary: Phil's only gone for one weekend.

Apparently that's all the time it takes for everything to fall apart.

good for you, good for you (ao3) - dvp_95

Summary: It starts like that: Dan's buzzing anxieties and Phil's sincere words helping to keep him grounded. Barely even a relinquishing of any power at all, really.

Kick Me While I'm Down (ao3) - jerseker

Summary: Dan and Phil meet in an adult kickball league. Phil is just there to make friends. Dan is - not.

lovers, keep on the road you’re on (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Japan is one of their favourite places in the world. And this holiday might just be the best two weeks Phil's ever had.

(A fic about their 2019 Japan trip.)

Now We’re On the Naughty List (ao3) - cafephan

Summary: Phil meets Dan after a Christmas Eve party, and invites him to stay after his taxi is stuck in the snow.

Serendipity (ao3) - philsmeatylegss

Summary: Dan and Phil are a generic, cute suburban couple when a brief apocalypse decides to happen

songbird (ao3) - jestbee

Summary: a post-apocalyptic coffee shop au

Take a Picture (It'll Last Longer) (ao3) - phantasticworks

Summary: Dan and Phil meet at 2 a.m. in a coffee shop. Phil is a photographer looking for a model, and Dan can't say no to pretty boys.

Talking to the Moon (ao3) - uptownsteve

Summary: After a risque photoshoot, Phil wants to show Dan just how beautiful he is

The Box Under the Bed (ao3) - Nefertiti1052 (Succubusphan)

Summary: Dan is a guy with a plan but when his idea goes sour he finds other ways to pass the time.

Or how Dan found Phil's secret box and was caught red-handed.

The Boy And The Builder (ao3) - intoapuddle, jestbee

Summary: Dan is stuck in a house full of builders feeling sorry for himself. Until he meets Phil, that is...

We balance each other out on the seesaw of life (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Phil had dragged Dan to Isle of Man after his return home from tour. The sea air would do him good (even if it gave him hobbit hair) and he could be surrounded by Phil's family (who were his family too). He hadn’t actively planned to drag him onto a seesaw on a playground but it turned out to be a precious moment all the same.

[manysmallhands]

#40: Trust Fund/Joanna Gruesome - Split 12" EP

Released - Sep 22, 2014

Highest UK chart position - Did not chart

First heard - Forums, 2014

If I make a little tally chart of when I discovered all of these songs, 2014 accounts for a full 20% of them. The reason for this is not so mysterious: after over a decade of being able to do next to nothing, I found myself suddenly able to do slightly more than next to nothing and so the era of buying less than half a dozen CDs a year suddenly fell away. I looked around music blogs and forums, I found people with (what my girlfriend calls) “cousin eardrums” on the internet and I started to build a relationship with a world outside my head for the first time in years. This EP was at the centre of what I loved about DiY indie at that time, primarily because it was the first Trust Fund record that I heard and Trust Fund remain for me the best of those bands. My capacity to talk about them has already been tested to worrying levels (there’s a very long essay I wrote about them somewhere on the internet that was referred to as my dissertation by friends), but I appreciate that my audience here is more of the “who dat?” variety, so I shall try and keep this fairly brief.

Tho the 10s are largely regarded as a musical backwater for indie, I’m tempted to think of them as a Golden Age for DiY guitar pop. Being what it was, it broke little new ground, but there was a strong sense of character in the music that made its identity feel distinct to me - maybe that’s just the zeal of the newcomer, idk. Trust Fund themselves sound a lot like American slacker rock pushed thru a UK indiepop blender: you could hear the chunky Weezer style powerchords and the more angular Pavement-type elements, but within that, there’s also Ellis Jones’s faltering, high pitched whine of a voice singing about his two favourite subjects, awkward friendship and dishonesty. At one of these two poles is “No Pressure”, an alt country daze where Jones offers a girlfriend a safe space for some sort of emotional recovery. This leads to some of his best lines - “this is not your house and you do not cut the grass” in particular captures all the care and solicitousness of making sure someone feels welcome in a difficult situation - and the song itself becomes a sombre but comforting refuge from the worst that the world has to offer. At the other is the razor sharp power pop of Scared, an absolute rush of a song but one where pace and melody tend to mask the sheer desperation of Ellis’s vocal. Lead track Reading The Wrappers is great too - (ed. makes “wind it up” gestures) - yeah, alright… (for fucks sake - ed.)

The other side of this 12” single is occupied by Joanna Gruesome, a better band than their name suggests but who are not on top form here: only the elegiac shimmer and melancholy of Coffee Implosion matches up to any of the Trust Fund tunes. That doesn’t really matter tho - four of these six songs are among the very best of their kind. While it’s a record that still stands on its merits, it’s become a time capsule for me too, a moment where I was excited by music for the first time in years and feeling like my life was, for once, heading somewhere other than indefinite illness. The illness thing didn’t pan out: I got worse again, improved more, had a breakdown somewhere in the middle and finally understood that being able to go for a walk and make my own dinner was about as good as it was likely to get. But the music is still important to me, both on this record and all the others that I discovered from 2013/14 onwards. I can’t say much has ever happened in my life - it’s largely been based around long periods of nothing at all - but this was a time when I again became a person that related to the outside world as something other than a sick body and those records were my conduit for that. Whatever it is that I’ve become now, it began with these songs.