#but he's been going to local coffee shops shouting them out idk I love him oh and his baking videos and dating advice

[femmeidiot]

I really excel at having kind of stupid lock screens on my phone lately right now it's a screenshot from a tiktok and every time I open my phone I laugh like it's so fucking stupid

[fluffykiddosstuff]

coffee shop (Nines x reader x gavin)

i was searching for stories with nines and gavin x reader but didn't found many (not forcelly implying smut but i'll do that in an another one shot lol)

warnings : strong language, violence, possessive theme, toxic ex, abusive past relationship, torture, manipulation, kidnapping

Might do a part 2? Idk yet

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

you were just working in a coffee shop nearby the dpd locals. So it was natural that often, the people working there would come get lunch, drinks or just a snack. tho one day one person intrigued you. It was a tall android, the same one as the android named connor who passed many times taking snacks and coffee for the lieutenant of the dpd. but he was taller, had grey-blue eyes instead of warm dark chocolates eyes and his voice was more firm and strict. You got him his order and looked at him with your marker pen in your hand.

"a name on the cup sir ?"

"you can put gavin on it, oh and please write a litlle 'dickhead' with a heart under, it's for my partner"

you smiled and laughed at the little "attention" and looked where the android customer was looking, a shorter man who was pouting on the outside of the store was sitting on a bench. The android smirked and got back to you, he gave of a cold impression but he didn't seem so heartless, after all deviancy was a normal thing in detroit now.

"sure no problem"

you giggled and did what he asked and handed him the cup.

"have a good day sir"

"you too miss"

while cleaning the counter you could see the did say gavin shouting at his partner then getting kissed, he blushed and hurried into a police car. You happily smiled to yourself, at least some people got chance in love unlike you.

After one good month you suspected that your boyfriend was even more weird than usual, he always asked you at what hour you were coming back from work, with who you were hanging out but lately, you found some blue liquid in the house that you suspected being thirium, and sometimes big sounds were coming from the basement. He always told you that it was him working for his work or others things to excuse the hints that he was doing something weird.

you decided that it was enough and you were going to talk to someone at the dpd about all of that after work. The android wich you finally know his name who was nines and gavin his partner came in the coffee shop to take a snack before going home as they did every friday. You took their order and came back with it, putting it on their table.

"Here you are guys !" you said happily while smiling to both of them, since they came often you began to be friends with them.

"thank you y/n" said gavin before sipping his coffee, nines looked at you and scanned you, your stress level was higher than usual.

"y/n is there anything wrong ? you seem stressed" gavin got his gaze back on you as the android spoke while you hugged the tray to your chest and swallowed your saliva, nervous about the confession you were going to do.

"actually yes..my..boyfriend has been acting strange this past month, i suspect him of doing something very bad in the basement of our hous.."

when you were going to go further in your explication, your boss called for you.

"oh hum i should go, i'll explain tomorrow then" you were making your way to go but nines took your wrist

"wait you can come at our hous tonight and explaine us, you always you would like to see our appartment so here is the change" the android slightly smiled at you and that made you blush a bit

"sure why not, if it's okay with gavin of course" you both looked the 3rd person around the table and he looked away, his cheeks reddened

"yeah sure whateva" he sipped his cup while you got away to finish your day.

"do you think it's a good idea thin can ? she said she has a boyfriend after all" Reed looked at his own boyfriend wo was sitting back on his chair

"i saw y/n with bruises on her wirsts and on her neck the other day, it seemed that it was an average man who did that to her" he sipped his thirium drink, glancing in your directions where you were laughing with a colleague

"you don't think that she-" gavin looked also at you then back at nines who slowly nodded his head

"maybe but perhaps it's what she wants to talk about tonight, you know we can't act without enough evidences"

gavin agreed and they leaved, after all they had to prepare diner for tonight.

But they didn't know that your boyfriend was worse than planned.

You prepared yourself, makeup and a pretty outfit to go out, you just wanted to feel pretty but your boyfriend didn't seem to see it like that, he grabbed firmly your wirst and squeezed it, you whimpered while protecting your face with your other hand.

"you are doing this for who !? where are you going !?"

"i-i just wanted to be pretty that's all ! leave me alone please you are hurting me.."

your phone buzzed and lighted himself, your partner got off of your wirst and readed the message

'yo y/n we are waiting for you, me and the tin can, are you on your way ?'

he crashed your phone into his fist and throwed it right into your nose, making it bleed. You pinched it with your hand while he pulled your hair

" i knew it you fucking bicth ! you are cheating on me ! and the worst thing is that it's with one man and a fucking walking computer !"

he beated you so you got uncouscious, he then dragged you to the basement, and your worst fears were proved, a bunch of 10 androids were beated up and destroyed, many knifes, bats and other weapons to make them suffer, they looked at you and helped you getting on the wall to take some sleep.

gavin and nines pov :

gavin was stomping in all of the living room while nines was sitting straight on the couch

" fuck nines it as been 3 hours ! she readed my message but didn't respond ! what if something happened to her ?"

nines got up and took his boyfriend's hands in his and looked at him, his led blinking in a stressful red-yellow shade.

"i'm worried too but you know we have to wait until 24 hours to said someone is missing, maybe she felt asleep because of her work ?"

"i hope so.."

the next day the dpd took a call from your boss, he siad youw eren't at work and that you didn't prevent him, wich was not how you behave usually. some coworkers of yours came and explained that sometimes they saw you with bruises on your body, one time you even came with a black eye, so they all suspected your boyfriend.

Fowler had took hank, gavin, nines and connor on the case, since nines and gavin were close to you they could have a clue of what happened, they all sitted near hank's desk, connor on his, gavin standing up and nines sitting on the edge of connor's desk.

"so what do you knew about her, did she said anything to you ?" hank asked, looking at the pair while connor was searching for your adress

"well not exactly, we invited her into our house yesterday night because she said her boyfriend had a weird behavior and she wanted to talk about it" gavin said, a coffee in the hand

"yes and also i noticed many bruises on her wirst and neck who was coming from an average man" completed nines

"i see, connor you got the adress ?" the lieutenant got up and putted his jacket on

"yes hank, she don't live that far away but we have to take the cars"

the group of 4 all got into a car and reached to your house, the two on the back side stressing more than the two on the front.

They ringed to your door, no response, Connor tried again but there was no response even after that. Hank took his gun and so did Gavin, they didn't liked each other but they could behave in a case like that. Nine unlocked the door and they all came in, there was no one in the house. They were going to leave but they heard something fall in the basement. Nines and Gavin got to enter it while hank and Connor were still up in case someone came back. Gavin break the door and they couldn't see at first wag was going on by how dark it was, nines put the lights on and what they saw was.. Horrifying.. Many androids were ripped apart, many dead androids too but more important, you were here, tied up to a wall like a dog and you were hurt, Gavin runned to you and called an ambulance while nines helped the Few androids who survived.

"come one y/n keep your eyes open! The ambulance is coming!"

He putted pressure on your wounds but that's when they heard yelling and shots upstairs, Connor got to the basement

"we got the man who was behind all of this, he is injured but nothing who could cause his dead"

You got in the ambulance to get healed up and the androids could get repaired. When you woke up, many androids that you helped got you presents to thank you, you told the dpd all about your boyfriend did to you and these poor androids so he could go in jail. After all of that your normal life came back as usual, getting out of the dpd department nines and Gavin reached to you.

" y/n please wait for us" said nines with a little smirk

Gavin had a big blush on his face and handed you (favorite flower) with a box of chocolates

"it was my idea but Gavin insisted to gave them to you-"

Gavin gave a deadly stare at his boyfriend and you laughed while smelling the flowers

"thank you you too, I appreciate it, maybe we should get this dinner that we never got tonight?"

You kissed gavin's then nine's cheek and got away, smiling. Nines laughed slightly while Gavin was pouting as usual

"fucking-"

"she will never scease to amaze me"

"what about me tincan? I'm a fucking ghost?"

"no but you are very predictable detective"

And all of that ended in a playful fight between the boys before they headed home to prepare the dinner

[helnjk]

Stitching Together - G.W.

George Weasley x fem!reader 

Requested: yes !! by my lovely bean marissa @lumos-barnes

please accept my humble request for a george x reader where the reader owns a shop in diagon alley and one day they walk into WWW and george knocks over a whole display, he is a complete SIMP & cannot compose himself. complete buffoonery when the reader is near. they become friends & do all these nice things for each other and the reader is oblivious like "george, i'm so lucky to be your friend" (even though the reader is secretly simping) and he's like "um what, i'm literally in love with you"

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: mentions of meals and drinks (coffee), but other than that it’s just pure fluff & Dumb Idiots In Love

A/N: somehow i always end up writing george knitting? idk how it happened, but it happened. i hope you like it marissa 🥺💕

–

You took a step back to admire your handiwork. 

After what seemed like neverending hours, the layout of your shop was finally perfect. From where you stood, you had a view of the streets of Diagon Alley, several passersby coming and goings from your sight. The display of charmed knit work by the window was already moving, demonstrating simple stitches that formed into a scarf. 

It had always been your dream to open up your own shop in the most prominent wizarding area of Britain, with your passion for knitting and crafting, but the timing had always been off. Now, about a year or so since the war had ended, your grandmother surprised you with the capital to make your dreams come true. 

The gesture was extra special because she was the one who first taught you how to knit. Many summers were spent in her cottage, sitting side by side and working on personal projects together. 

Outside, your sign read ‘Stitching Together: Grand Opening’. There were a few flyers posted right on the door and on the window advertising the different classes and crafting groups you were offering, as well as the different products that could be found in your store. 

It was as if your heart could burst at the sight of your fully furnished shop and you could wait no longer. With a flick of your wand, the sign on the door flipped to say open and that was that. 

–

“Hey Freddie, have you seen that new shop that’s opened down the street?” George yelled from the bottom of the stairs once the last customer of the day made their leave. 

“Haven’t gone in, but it’s gotten a lot of customers from what I can tell!” the disembodied voice of his twin replied from somewhere above. 

As he began the process of cleaning up and reshelving, products floating in midair or zooming towards their proper shelves, he called out once more, “What type of store is it d’you reckon?” 

“Arts and crafts? Something like that.” 

George’s eyes drifted towards the shop window, where he could just barely see the outline of the new store. Dusk had begun to set in London, so the sky was filled with brilliant hues of purple and orange. His curiosity getting the better of him, he decided that he would go welcome the new shop owner to Diagon Alley. 

With a shout to let his twin know where he was off to, George strode out of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and into the brisk weather. Luckily for him, Stitching Together was still open. He could see you bustling around inside, fixing displays and swishing your wand to tidy everything up.

It had only been around a month since your shop had opened, but the local wizard folk of London seemed to be very keen on buying the different things you sold. Many came around to purchase the instructional books and the different kinds of wool and yarn, and some of your regulars had even taken an interest in the classes you held weekly. It was a great way for you to get to know the community and to establish friendships. 

You had always taken note of the joke shop a few shops down from you, but with the hustle and bustle of just opening, you hadn’t had a chance to visit or introduce yourself to the owners. It was just your luck that one half of them pushed open the door to your shop, the little bell at the top of it ringing to indicate his presence. 

“Oh, hello!” you smiled, turning to face the redheaded man, “Welcome to Stitching Together, what could I help you with?” 

Unbeknownst to George, your heart began to beat rapidly in your chest. How could a man be so positively handsome you didn’t know, but at the sight of him standing by the door, all you could think about was how gorgeous he was. And he hadn’t even uttered a single word yet! 

The charming smile he sent your way did not help the heat you could feel creeping up your neck. “Just popping by to say hello and welcome to Diagon Alley! My twin and I run Wheezes just down the street,” he said. 

Your smile grew as he stuck his hand out for you to shake, “Oh I was just thinking about how I’ve been wanting to pay your shop a visit! I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“George Weasley at your service,” his hand was firm and warm as he shook yours, eyes sparkling with something you couldn’t quite name. “Nice to meet you!” 

“So tell me about your shop!” 

Somehow, after that evening, George Weasley snuck his way into becoming a part of your daily routine.

Every morning he would show up with two cups of coffee in hand right before your shop was set to open. After realizing that you depended on caffeine to function throughout your day, he made it a point to bring you one everyday. As you sipped on your coffees, the two of you would spend a few minutes chatting about your plans for the day before going to work. 

Whenever you would offer to pay for your own cup or even try to insinuate that you could get your own coffee in the morning, just so that he wouldn’t have to go through the trouble, he would stop you in your tracks.

“But George–”

“Nope!” he would say in a voice louder than yours. “I’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart. I really feel for your customers who have to deal with a Y/N that hasn’t had her coffee fix. Could you imagine the grumpiness? Not on my watch!” 

You would roll your eyes, but secretly it warmed your heart how sweet this boy could be. He was slowly inching his way into your life and becoming a great friend. 

–

“So,” said Fred one day as George had gotten back from delivering your daily coffee, “The bird from the knitting shop, huh?” 

His twin only rolled his eyes in response, used to the teasing that came with being brothers (and twins) with Fred Weasley. Instead of engaging, George went instead to do the routine last check over their store before they officially opened their doors. Still, Fred couldn’t resist the temptation to continue provoking him. 

“Oi! C’mon, you bring her coffee everyday even if you don’t like the stuff. If I don’t remind you that you have a store to run, you would spend the whole day staring out the window just to catch a glimpse of the girl! Tell me you’re not whipped for her,” he teased, following George through the shop.

From their position at the till and on the second floor, both Verity and Lee tried to hide their smirks. This was too good a story to not eavesdrop on. 

“Come off it, Fred.” George rolled his eyes. “I’m just being a good friend, that’s all!” 

“Yeah but you wouldn’t mind being more than friends.” 

The cheeky wink Fred sent George was not appreciated, as the prior soon found out, having to duck away from a stinging hex. Still, Fred’s laugh rang through the semi-empty store as he ran away from his brother. 

Later in the day, as the lunch crowd tapered off, the four of them were left to mull around a bit. Lee and Verity were off taking stock in the back room, Fred was doing some accounting (because his twin couldn’t be trusted with any sort of math), and George was reshelving some Skiving Snackboxes. 

The bell above the door to the shop rang, but he couldn’t quite tell who came in from his position towards the back of the shop. 

“Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” he yelled, rushing to get all the boxes in order before he could help the new customer, “I’ll be with you in just a second!” 

Just as he admired his handiwork, eyes scanning the display to make sure nothing was out of place, a familiar voice called from behind him, “It’s alright, take your time. I’m not looking for anything in particular.” 

George almost jumped out of his skin as he heard your voice. He was so surprised that as he turned to meet you, his elbow caught on the edge of one of the Snackboxes and the whole thing toppled over. 

You watched as the tower of boxes crumbled around him, and your hand automatically covered your mouth as you tried to contain your laughter. It didn’t work, though, and soon the whole store could hear your guffaws. 

Thankfully, George was a wizard, and what would’ve taken a muggle quite some time to fix, only took a quick flick of his wand. 

“Oops,” you smiled at him bashfully as he finished, “Didn’t mean to startle you, Weasley.”

“Erm, it-it’s alright,” he blushed, “I just didn’t expect you to come ‘round today.” 

In truth, the reason why George was so flustered at your appearance at his shop was because he had just spent most of the afternoon thinking about you. He often did that, getting lost in his thoughts about the many little things that made you, well, you. The deep breath you took before that first sip of coffee in the morning, revelling in the aroma. How your face lit up when you spoke about the different people you met in your classes. Your hands and how skillfully they worked whatever project you were creating at the moment. 

He wouldn’t admit it to Fred, but what his twin had said earlier in the day was accurate. He was absolutely smitten over you. 

“Well you’ve been a regular over at mine for the last couple of weeks, I’m just returning the favor and visiting my favorite redhead at his place of work!” 

“I-I,” he stuttered, his brain refusing to acknowledge the fact that he was your favorite anything. 

Fred, who had heard the commotion and had gone down to check if everything was okay, nearly face palmed as he watched George fumble through his words. The man was whipped for you, no doubt about it, and as a good twin, he decided to save his brother from further humiliation. 

“I think what my lovely twin here is trying to say, is that you just haven’t met enough redheads to make your decision about your favorite one,” he said, smoothly inserting himself into the conversation. “Fred Weasley, at your service!” 

Your smile immediately brightened at the sight of George’s twin holding out his hand for you to shake, “Nice to meet you! I’m Y/N, George’s told me loads about you!” 

“Has he?” Fred raised his eyebrow, turning to look at George who was still a little dumbstruck at the sight of you in his shop. “Well, that just means it’s my turn to spend some time with such a lovely lady. C’mon, I’ll give you a tour of the shop!”

“Oh I’d love that.” 

With a small glance and wave at George, you took the arm that Fred was holding out for you, and so began his (largely amusing) tour of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. 

“What in Merlin’s name was that!” yelled Fred the moment you left the shop. 

George groaned into his hands, embarrassment creeping back into him. He had acted a fool, unable to even mutter a single sentence to you the whole time you were around. 

“Mate, I have never seen you so flustered around a girl,” his twin muttered, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Just tell her you’ve got feelings for her! Ask her on a date, do something! From what I could tell, you’re not the only one who’s caught feelings.” 

“It’s not like that between us,” he said, “I doubt she even notices how much I fancy her.” 

–

Somehow, George wound up taking Fred’s advice. Though, in typical-George fashion, he never explicitly mentioned to you anything about the way he felt. 

Instead, he would stay around your shop longer in the mornings, taking slower than usual sips of his coffee (which he still couldn’t say he preferred over a good cup of tea). Other days, he would come around closing time and help put everything back in order and if he was lucky, the two of you would go out to dinner. Of course, he would also never let you pay a sickle for your meal, no matter how much you insisted. 

Weekends were usually spent together as well. 

Saturdays were for brunch and muggle films on the telly. It was one of the rare occasions he would drink a beverage in front of you that wasn’t that (god forsaken) coffee. 

Sundays were more for crafting together. He would floo into your flat after having lunch with his family and the two of you would continue working on his little project. 

“My mum loves to knit,” he mentioned one day, while he observed your quick hands skillfully moving the thread through your needles. “She knits us all sweaters for Christmas. It’s become a tradition of sorts.” 

“That’s lovely,” you smiled up at him.

“Yeah, anyone who’s practically family gets one too. Like Harry and Hermione,” he mused.

“I could teach you how to knit her something, if you wanted,” you offered. “It’d be something pretty simple though, especially if you’ve never knitted anything before.”

The smile he sent you was so dazzling, you had to take a moment. You were practically melting under his tender gaze and you swallowed thickly, trying to gain your composure. 

 “That’d be bloody brilliant, Y/N!” 

You only hoped he didn’t notice how your face got hot and how your hands couldn’t move the needles to do what you wanted, too flustered to be precise with your movements.

Since then, the two of you spent most of Sunday afternoons making sure George had the correct strings of yarn on the correct needle. You would keep a close eye on him and his progress, but most of the time he was alright on his own. Sometimes, he would purposely sit closer to you on your couch and you could practically feel the warmth radiating from him. 

In between knits, your eyes would drift towards his focused face and you would smile. George had a habit of poking the tip of his tongue out when he was knitting. Something about the gesture helped him concentrate, and you found it absolutely adorable.

The more time you spent together, though, the more confused George got. It was getting to a point where in his head, it was impossible to miss what he was trying to say with his actions. You had to have caught on by now. And, since you hadn’t acknowledged what was going on between the two of you, he had assumed that this was your polite way of rejecting him.  

On a chilly morning, he clutched the warm cups of coffee in his hands as he pushed the door to Stitching Together open with his back. 

“Morning, Y/N!” he greeted.

You grinned in his direction as he made his way towards you. The moment he placed the warm drink in your hands and you took your first sip, a small moan of gratefulness escaped your lips.

“Merlin, I don’t deserve you,” you mumbled to your cup. 

“Sorry?” George asked, brows furrowed slightly. 

“Oh nothing!” you quickly said, “I’m just really glad you’re my friend, Georgie.” 

Friend. 

The word seemed to make his heart sink down to his stomach and ignite something in him at the same time. It was time that he told you how he felt, no matter what would happen afterwards. He couldn’t keep going on pretending he wasn’t head over heels in love with you. 

“Erm, about that Y/N,” he began, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his work uniform, “I’ve got to tell you something.” 

It was now or never. 

You smiled up at him encouragingly, almost oblivious to the bundle of nerves that were most definitely visible in his expression. 

“I-I don’t want to be just friends, Y/N,” he said, lips pursed in anticipation.

“What do you want then?” you still didn’t understand what he was trying to say. 

In a burst of confidence, George took your hands in his and gripped them tightly, “I want to be with you. I fancy you loads, I think I might even be in love with you, Y/N. Honestly, I might’ve been in love with you from the moment I first walked into your shop.” 

Your lack of an immediate response left him to back track, “But I understand completely if you don’t feel the same way, I just wanted to get it out there.” 

For a moment, the two of you were silent. George eyed you nervously, wondering what was going on through your head, bracing himself for the rejection that he thought was on the tip of your tongue. 

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, “Y/N? Do you want me to go?” 

Instead of answering, you flung your arms around his neck. He was so startled at your sudden gesture that he almost didn’t notice your lips on his. Almost. 

As suddenly as you had kissed him, all of his apprehensions melted away. Almost automatically, his arms found themselves wrapped around your waist and he pulled you closer to him. Your lips melted together seamlessly. It was as if this was where the two of you were meant to be, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. 

Sooner than you had liked, George pulled away from you slightly. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help but dip his head down to peck your lips again. Once, twice, three times. This left you a giggly mess, your nose scrunching up in a way that was practically begging him to kiss it as well. 

“Does that mean you fancy me too?” he murmured against your lips. 

“Absolutely, head over heels,” you smiled in return. 

The pair of you spent a brief moment with your foreheads pressed together, giddy smiles on your faces. That was until a knock on the door of your shop sounded. Immediately, you sprung apart, a blush coating tip of George’s ears and cheeks. 

A few people stood outside, eyeing you amusedly. 

“Oh shit,” you said, hurrying to flip the sign on the door to say ‘open’ and to unlock the door with a flick of your wand. “I completely forgot I had a class today.” 

As the small group of people began to file inside, they sent knowing glances your way to which you only groaned softly and looked up at George.

“I’ll see you tonight?” you asked hopefully. 

With a kiss to your cheek and a mischievous grin he said, “You can count on it, love.” 

–

General taglist: @expectoevans @george-fabian-weasley @gxthsanrio @slytherinscribbles @harpyloon @nuttytani @mesmerisedangel @amourtentiaa @sarcasticallywitty15 @lumos-barnes

Weasley twins taglist: @whizboingies @pineapplesandpinas @papapapadumb @Mrs-g-weasley @a-castle-of--glass @hey-there-angels @leovaldez37 @pinkypurplemagic @werewolfslut @surprizeshawtyy

crossed out means i couldn’t tag you for some reason, sorry!

[theolivechickken]

So… I’m in EUROPE

Jan 9

Alternative titles for this first blog post:

The blind side?

Did I mention that my favorite river is De Nile? As in I’m in denial that I’m going abroad for a semester

The hardest goodbye

The shortest drive of my life trying to make it last as long as possible

¡Sorpresa! So January 9th came out of nowhere

I only cried 40 times

When will it sink in?

I don’t know why I’ve been so emotional about leaving these past few days. I love traveling and exploring new places, and I’m excited for this semester. I think I’m a little nervous for the shock when it hits me that I’m going to be away for four months. It’s not a big deal since I’m away from home and in Redlands for school most of the year. Yet it’s a different deal since my home is now in a different country.

And here’s me being real for a hot minute. I’m sad to be away from Nick for so long. I’m not worried about our relationship but I’m going to miss being in his company and sharing moments with him. Sure, we can always FaceTime (and watch Game of Thrones at the same time). But I think the big difference is that I’m not gone for a short trip or May Term. It’s a lot of time, yet I also feel like it will pass quickly and be over in a blink of an eye.

I’m just hoping to be as “in the moment” as I can and enjoy this experience while I have the opportunity :)

I’m also sad to be far away from my big. If you’re reading this Big D, I love you and miss you and we should travel once I recover from being broke from this trip.

I think I've been prepped all my life for long haul travel because it seems to feel shorter and shorter the more I take trips (especially after doing a 16 hour flight to South Africa). I had my first *oh shit* moment where I realized I’d have to navigate LAX by myself once I got dropped off. Bless traveling in groups but also bless people who are veterans or able to do it alone.

I’ve always wondered: how do people get cold in airplanes? I'm always hot and stuffy and lets cross our fingers that I didn't get sick (midway through the flight my throat started to feel very dry and scratchy). And hey what's the deal with airline food (jokes?) But for real why am I so gassy?

10 Hours later we arrived in London had to SPEED RUN THROUGH SECURITY to make it to our connecting flight to Munich. Actually we made it through alright. Even the workers told us that our flight wasn't boarding yet so we didn't need to stress (but Ayetzy did since her bag was stopped by security).

Jan 10

Alternative titles 2.0:

Walking in a winter wonderland

It's a bit nippy

Hey so what's Germany look like? Idk I couldn't tell you since everything is covered in snow

WOW they actually have seasons here

It feels like I'm in a weird dream where I think I'm just in a different state in the US, but I'm actually 13,000 miles away from home. Also, what the heck is a kilometer? What's the exchange rate from the euro to Dollar? How do I mentally convert Fahrenheit to Celsius? At least I prepped for time with a 24 hour clock. But what's the time difference at home? Also, everything is in German (but at the same time, I can recognize words here and there!)

The houses are kinda cute. They look like the houses little kids draw with the pointy roofs and windows in the middle of the wall. Jet lag has my body all out of whack. I’m starviiiiing and trying my best to stay awake on this shuttle ride to Salzburg so I can fall asleep when it gets dark out and reset my body to a new time zone.

Update: I definitely passed out on this shuttle ride.

Seeing all the snow is low-key a shocker (yes I was expecting snow but nothing in my life would have ever prepared me for this much snow) but I'm excited to experience a different life in a different world. Fun fact: this is the most snow that Salzburg has received in a long time. So our shuttle driver wasn’t able to make it up the mountain to our home. He was about to drop us off at the side of the road and make us walk up in the snow, but luckily Sara, Kaya, and Katharina drove down and picked us up!

Once again, I find myself in room no. 9 (a theme?). I remember walking into our home and immediately seeing the staircase. Kaya offered to help us carry our 50lb luggage up the stairs and I was like “Nah, I got this.”

First set of stairs was no problem. Then I realized there was a second set. We made it up but had to catch my breath. BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE. By this time, Kaya held up the bottom of my suitcase so that I could lift it up the stairs. Thankfully, I’m on the third floor.

Jan 11

We started off the morning with a light breakfast in the Mendel and then toured our building, Monschberg 21. I love it here. It’s quite charming and cozy. We are settled in the backyard of a park and on the top of a mountain, which gives us a beautiful grand view of the city. I better have swol legs from hiking this mountain and climbing 3-4 sets of stairs multiple times a day in the Monschberg.

Our classroom is on the fourth floor (along with a student/study room, a yoga/relaxing room in the tower, a small gym room, and a cozy library). The dining room (Mendel), student kitchen, and Marcus’ kitchen is on the first. Did I mention there’s also a basement? And a dungeon. And a Winter garden (probably my favorite room in the house)!

We all gathered in the Winter Garden for an introduction to culture in Salzburg. Turns out that Red Bull was invented here, and Mozart hated Salzburg. None of the locals really know what the Sound of Music is, but it’s important for tourism. In the US waiters shower customers in unsolicited, overly-friendly conversation and attention, but here you have to flag down the waiters for the check and they’ll leave you alone for the most part (which I could get used to actually). It’s encouraged to sit down and spend time with friends and families at restaurants (and Western food-to-go culture isn’t really a thing). People like to follow rules (especially older folk) so we probably shouldn’t be jaywalking or walking in the lane designated for bikes. We also learned some basic German words and phrases to help us get around town. And people here are very literal. If you ask them how they are, they will tell you how it is (instead of replying with a quick “I’m good” or “I’m fine”).

We took a break to have a delicious home cooked lunch. Marcus prepared pork, fried rice, and a salad. Afterwards, we threw on a butt ton of layers and walked down into the city for a tour. We passed by the opera house, Mozart’s birthplace and statue, Salzburg cathedral, and neighboring shops in the city.

I was toasty for the most part, but when we stood for long periods of time, my toes started to get cold. Also, I probably should have worn a scarf, but I also didn’t die without it. We were also able to explore a bit on our own before dinner. Raine, Aubree, Patrick, and I were trying to find a coffee house (that wasn’t overly bougie), and we stopped inside an Italian coffee shop to warm up.

We tried our best to use our navigation senses to try to find the Mozart statue and then Patrick wandered off and disappeared. We threw some chunks of snow at each other as the locals quietly passed by and then Patrick reappeared with Kaya and Sara. We walked to Zum Zirkelwirt and had Goulasch, Stiegl, and Kaiser schmarrn for dinner. It was also Nadia’s 21st birthday (and Patrick and Savanna had also recently celebrated January birthdays) so we headed to O’Malleys for drinks. I tried a shamrock cocktail and an Apple Strudel shot - both were surprisingly pretty tasty.

For the most part, our group is directionally challenged. I like to think I’m good with directions, but it was also difficult navigating around town at night when major landmarks are covered in snow. We didn’t know where the horse statue was located, so we went around in circles before turning right up the street and finding the bike tunnel back to the stairs by our mountain. A crazy ol’ (schwasted?) Austrian lady stumbled into our path and started shouting and mumbling things we couldn’t understand. It was an interesting spectacle to say the least. The snow started coming down hard and we ended up climbing 100 steps up the mountain and then getting lost at the fork in the road at the top. We ~eventually~ made it home and all in one piece :) Great start to the semester.

[tellmeiamdreamingplease]

When Life gives you Lemons- Chapter Three

Summary: Reader goes to collage, Mob!Tom has too move to New York,They meet and Tom falls for her, Y/N wants none of it but Tom like to get his way.

Word count: 1483 words

Warnings: death, guns, mean words, My bad writing

Inspired by @thewiseandfree

Y/N walks done the street, it has gotten pretty dark, she had her book bag packed with some clothes, some school supplies, hygiene products, and her phone. Since she didn't have a car she was walking around the city trying to make her way to Ambers. Y/N is lost in her thoughts. Why did she leave me? I am her kid. lost in her thoughts, she was distracted by the fact that it started to rain, she looks up at the sky. Great she thought to herself, she contuied to walk in the rain, letting it run down her back, and flating her hair. she frowned as a roar of thunder shook her feet and the rain poured harder, my luck, she thought too herself, she looked around trying to find a shop or a restaurant, she looks to her side a notices a local coffee shop. She quickly jogs across the street, avoiding the puddles, and enters the warm shop; right away she breaths in the familiar smell of coffee. She goes up to the til and orders a large coffee with cream, once the barista gives Y/N her coffee she heads to a small table and begins to text Amber

Y/N: Hey. I need a ride. Long story. I’m at a coffee shop on the corner of 10th street and Cherrylane drive.

It took awhile for Amber to respond back.

Best Friend: Y/N don’t you remember? I’m gone for the night. My family is visiting my grandparents.

Y/N: oh right.

Best friend: did you need something, I’m sure I can get out of it.

Y/N: no it’s fine. I got it under control.

Best friend: :) okay

Y/n sighs as she puts her phone down, taking a large sip of her coffee. What was she going to do?

TOMS PERSPECTIVE

It was getting pretty late, but Tom couldn’t think anymore, he was going through the millions of files, when Harrison walked in.

“Hey mate, looks like you need a break. Want to go to the pub?” Tom shakes his head.

“I have too much to do, last thing I need is to be drunk.”

“How about coffee then, boast of energy to get you through all these.” Harrison pats the big pile of files on his desk. Tom sighs.

“Fine, but not for very long.” He grabs his cell and heads out the door with Harrison.

Y/N’S PERSPECTIVE

She taps her nails on the table as she scrolls through her phone, looking for a cheap hotel, she takes another large sip finishing off the coffee. The barista comes by with another coffee and a pity smile.

“Looks like you’ve had a tough day” he hands her another mug.

“On the house.” Y/n smiles and takes it, right away warming her hand.

“Thanks” she takes a large sip, and continues to scroll through a random website that shows hotels, she hears the familiar sound of a bell when a new customer walks in, she looks up in pure curiosity, that’s when she sees him, he had brown curly hair that was slightly patted down from the rain. He had deep brown eyes, he wore a grey shirt and a leather jacket and jeans, his jawline was sharp, it was like everything went in slow motion when she say him, he offered a glow to her life, her jaw almost dropped when she saw him. He was the definition of beauty. His friend nudged him and smiled as he pointed y/n out. He looked at her and winked, she quickly looked away, her cheeks turning a bright red, she didn’t mean to stare. She looked at the hotels again, she settled on one, thirty five dollars for one night, not so bad, the place did seem run down in the pictures, but least she wouldn’t be sleeping on the streets. She looked up and notices the men from earlier looking at her, they sat a nearby table, far enough so she couldn’t hear what they were saying. She rolls her eyes. They probably think I’m a dumb girl that drools over attractive men. assholes. Y/n thinks, she looks down at her phone again. One night in this hotel wouldn’t be that bad. As she gets up to leave the barista comes over again.

“Here’s another cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin. He smiles as he puts it down on her table. Y/N shakes her head.

“I know I look like a wreak, but I can’t have you give me anymore free food, thank you though.” She pushes the plate and mug towards him. He chuckles.

“It’s already paid for madam.” He turns to walk away.

“Wait- by who?”

“Those two fellas.” He points to the two men from earlier. The barista walks away, and y/n is left dumbstruck, she looks at them again and the one she found attractive gives her alittle wave and winks again. She gets up bringing the plate and coffee towards their table.

“Thanks. But I don’t want this.” She sets it on their table. The one with blue eyes smirks at the one with brown eyes.

“Your welcome, you should eat it anyways, you look hungry.” The brown eyed one slides the plate over to her and smirks. What was he playing at?

“You should sit.” Says the blue eyed one, motioning to the chair between them. She raises an eyebrow. She decides to sit. What’s the worse that can happen?

“My names Tom, and this is my mate Harrison.” Tom introduces himself. He had an striking British accent.

“Now you should tell us. What happened to your face? Cat fight?” At first y/n was offended, but then she remembered, Adam.

“Something like that.” She mumbled as she broke off a piece of the muffin and popped it into her mouth. Tom raised his eyebrows, obviously curious.

“What’s your name, sweetheart” tom asks.

“Y/n.” He stared deeply in her eyes, she scoots her chair further away from him. Maybe she should leave, she was starting to get bad vibes.

“Well Y/n, what brings-“ tom was caught off short by a loud shout. Y/n looks at the door. She starts to shake, he was here, Adam was here. Followed by her mother. She had bruises all around her face.

“Do you think you can just leave?!” He shouts he steps closer to y/n. Y/n is unsure what to do. Her eyes widen. She looks at Tom, he looks at Harrison.

“Sir I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The barista calmly asks.

“Oh shut up.” Adam grabs a gun out of his jacket and shots the barista. The barista collapses on the floor, that’s when all hell breaks lose, the few people that are in the shop start screaming, hiding under tables. Y/n is pulled under a table by Harrison.

“ Your next.” Adam shouts staring right her, Y/n starts to cry, Harrison whispers in her ear.

“Don’t worry, Toms got this.” Tom stands up.

“What? Do you want to be next?” Adam sarcastically asks Tom. Tom chuckles.

“If I were you, I would get the hell out before you go through the most painful death you could imagine.”

“Was that a threat?” He cocks his gun. Tom grabs his gun and shots his foot. The sound makes more people scream.

“Yes it was, now get out before I make you.” Adam lowers his gun and leaves.

“Let’s go Lisa!” Her mother looks at y/n with panicked eyes. Y/n gets out from under the table.

“No! Mom!” But it’s too late her mom is out of the store. Everything else that happened was a blur, all she remembers was crying. Tom grabs her arm.

“Let’s go darling, let’s go somewhere safe.”

TOMS PERSPECTIVE

Tom was in his car now, after sorting everything out at the shop. He looks at the girl who is now sleeping beside him. She was beautiful, but she looks like she's been through pain, her face was bruised and her hair was cut.

“I should’ve killed him.” He turned to Harrison.

“If I knew he was the one that did this.. I should’ve put a bullet through his skull.”

“You still don’t know that he was the one.”

“That women was her mother, of course he was the one.” He looks at her again.

“Your mother will be excited.” Harrison smirked

“Are you fucking serious.” Tom shot him a glare. Harrison chuckled.

“What was I supposed to do, leave her there?” Tom questioned.

“No, but this is the first girl you’ve brought home in a month we’ve moved here, not even a one night stand, but with her, your smitten.” Tom rolled his eyes, the girl was pretty but he wasn’t in love with her or anything.

“And plus your mother is coming tomorrow.” Harrison smirked.

“What! She wasn’t supposed to come until next week!”

“She moved the date, she missed you.”

“Bloody hell” tom sighed. He’s family is coming, he has a girl at his house, and he might be falling for her, just by her looks. Hopefully she has a bad personality, then maybe he can shake this off. whatever this might be.

Taglist:

@reganmarler​

Side note: Sorry this chapter took so long, I was busy with homework and had a fever, I'm going to try to post twice a week for now on, maybe Tuesdays and Saturdays.... idk, we will see, anyways, thank for all the support I’ve gotten from Chapter one and two, LOVE YOUUUUU!!!!

[justtryingyaknow]

Hey it's me the anon from earlier... I'm glad to hear you got a round 2 and are feeling a bit better! My au idea was basically that the Reds and the Blues are rival newspapers and that they are battling it out to become the main newspaper locally. You could add in some other factions if you wanted to of course. Idk I just like the concept and I think you have really creative ideas so I wanted to send in the request. Thank you for your time :)

Hello anon! Here is a very casual, slightly longer than expected response to this! I did take some creative liberty because, as recorded, I am a plot whore and I love you’re AU idea but couldn’t find a way to condense! So still rivals, but over more casual setting! Thanks for the request and I hope you enjoy!

Grif’s fingers hover over the keyboard. He’s acutely aware that Simmons is leaning over his shoulder watching his screen, assessing his every word. The sweat on his face forces him to push his glasses up.

“Just type a damn word, Grif!” Simmons breaks, causing Grif to smash the keys ending with a jumble of letters on the otherwise blank document.

“I can’t type when you’re watching me like this! It’s too much goddamned pressure.” Grif pushes back and storms to the box of donuts he brought in this morning.

“You can’t eat right now! You’re going to get the keyboard all sticky with jelly!”

“It’s my keyboard, I can cover it in as much stickiness as I want.”

“What was that?” Donut removes an ear bud perking up.

“Fuck off, Donut!” Grif growls around a mouth of boston creme.

“Yeah, fuck off Donut!” Simmons echoes.

“Fine, at least my segment is written.” Donut pops the ear bud back in. Simmons can’t argue with him about that.

“Just write the fucking segment, Grif. Literally anything. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“If Grif’s writing it, it’ll never be perfect.” The team has really done it now. Simmons stands up straight watching Sarge raise from his chair where he’s been sitting quietly (for once). “So, if you want to be the reason we don’t make it to print this week, and there by making us lose to the damn blues, well, be my guest!” His spit flies out, coating Grif/

“Why don’t you just write it, if you’re so freakin’ perfect?” Grif reluctantly tosses the donut, now covered in Sarge’s spittle.

Sarge looks at the computer, as though considering it as a possibility. “Oh? And then I could make ya dinner, and wash your clothes while I’m at it?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Grif makes his way back to the chair.

“Then I could tuck you and your little sister into bed, give you kissies on the forehead?! Huh, soldier?” And there was the spit again.

“I already sat down, just let me type!” Grif swiveled the chair and immediately started cranking out a feature on a new dog park.

“Simmons! Report!” Sarge stands, power posing in the middle of the workroom. He delights in watching his worker bees buzz around; Donut getting ahead on an entertainment piece, Lopez checking the weather and business information, and Simmons red in the face checking the layout for the hundredth time that day.

“Everything is in; we just need 500 words from a certain lazy fatass who put off the article assigned to him two weeks ago.”

“200.”

“You did not write 300 words in just that time.” Simmons sputtered and rushed back to Grif’s computer. “Oh my god.”

“I’m a fucking prodigy, Simmons. Bask in my glory.”

“You did nothing all day!”

“Don’t fight the muse, man… Oh, and grab me a coke.”

“Fuck you. And even if he finishes right now, can we get it to print in time?” At the close of his question, Donut is strapping on rollerblades.

“I can do this, years of rolling around with a bunch of guys is paying off!”

“[Please, just say you were on a men’s roller skating team.]” Lopez doesn’t look up from his computer, only sighing to express his continued discomfort with the rest of the team’s shenanigans.

Across town, the rival newspaper team’s boss pores through the final copy.

“Did you… make this figure up? The average person owns 4 and a half dogs in Blood Gulch? That cannot be possible.” Church sips his coffee while staring at the statistic.

“I did the math, asshole. Caboose counted the dogs in BG and I divided it by the population.” Tucker sips his drink, which is definitely not coffee.

“Do you know anything about outliers? Caboose has like 10 dogs dude. Do you know how much he’s going to skew this shit?”

“So what, do you want me to take it out?” Tucker crosses his arms.

“Eh… You think someone’s going to call us on some bad numbers?”

“My numbers aren’t bad! My numbers are good. I have the best numbers, like 6!” Caboose sips his orange juice out of a mug, trying to fit in with everyone else.

“Yeah, we know. Thanks, buddy. The movie review is good this week, by the way.” Church turns to face him. Tucker would call him out on the kindness, but he knows that Church (despite being an unending asshole) has a somewhat soft spot for Caboose. Caboose beams.

“Ok, so we sending it to print or what?” Tucker is still standing by. “You know the reds probably are running to the shop right now.”

“When did you care about the stupid rivalry?”

“I don’t. I just like the way they all get pissed off, man. It’s fucking comedy gold. Simmons gets all red and starts yelling at Grif, you know he’s all ‘GrIF” Tucker fakes a voice crack, “ This is your fault!’ And Sarge’s face gets all scrunched up and he starts threatening us.”

“You know, it is a pretty good time. Alright, 4 and a half dogs it is. Caboose, take this to the printing press!”

Tucker and Church watch Caboose take off. Neither are in a hurry, but they do want to be there to watch the Red Post’s team explode (like they always do). Church locks up the office front when a pink figure speeds past them.

“Oh shit! Donut got skates?” Tucker watches him speed up to catch Caboose. Neck and neck, they speed toward the printing shop with a paper copy in hand.

“Why don’t we just email it, I fucking hate walking down this stupid street every damn week.” Grif’s voice comes through the office door across the way. Sarge spots the Daily Blue’s Letter team and whips his head toward the race.

“Hoo boy, get ‘im Donut!” Sarge takes off running, and something snaps in Church as he starts speedwalking to keep pace.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Tucker waits for the reds to cross the street and join him. “You idiots actually have a paper this week?”

“Did you idiots even fact check your’s?” Simmons quips back. Tucker looks at the ground, the thought of half a dog running in his mind.

“I’m just saying; it does take a team of 3 to do what you guys do in a team of 5, and we’re always on time. Because Blue’s Letter’s got it baby.”

“What possible joy do you get out of this?” Grif says from the back of the group. “It’s just a fucking job.”

“Who do you think actually made it to press first today?” Simmons pushes his glasses up to try and get a better look, but the fore group has disappeared inside the building. Before anyone can wager a bet, Sarge emerges, triumphant.

“Glory glory to the Red Post! We got in first, cheers to Donut, the wheeled wonder!” Sarge hollers while pulling Donut out the door.

“It was a good run, Caboose!” Donut comforts. “I haven’t had that much fun edging out a guy since last week!”

The staff reunites, Grif and Simmons shoving Tucker lightheartedly while Lopez stays beyond the fray.

“Yeah, yeah, but now you’re just a bunch of assholes standing on the sidewalk screaming, so who’s the real winner.” Church pushes past everyone.

“Ugh, fucking Reds, cockbite!” Grif shouts.

“Drinks on Blues! To the bar!” Sarge starts the chant.

“To the bar!” The rest of the reds respond. The group makes their way to the only bar in town, forcing everyone to suffer through Sarge’s 10 verses of his Red Post Salute song.

[our-smooty]

Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 12

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags:  Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

As expected, the warding took less than an hour. Crowley’s nap, on the other hand, took at least four hours. The first hour was him nestled into Aziraphale’s side, floating in that lovely space between awake and sleep while the angel read to him. Eventually, he’d drifted off fully and spent a solid three hours dead to the world.

Upon waking Crowley had of course tried to get closer to Aziraphale’s warmth. It felt like waking up underneath his heat lamp, but a thousand times better because he was wrapped up in the angel’s arms and surrounded by blankets soft as clouds. The only thing ruining the perfect moment was an insistent, subtle ache in his knees and back that was just enough to make him squirm. 

“Hello love, are you awake?” Aziraphale asked. There was a rustling of pages and the sound of leather against wood. Then Aziraphale was pulling him closer with both arms.  

“Mmph,” Crowley grumped, twisting his hips in an effort to get rid of the ache. “--time isss it?”

Aziraphale hummed, looking over to his pocket watch on the bedside table before rejoining Crowley on the bed. “A little after six. I wasn’t sure if you intended to sleep straight through until tomorrow morning or not, you seemed completely out.”

“My back woke me up,” Crowley grumped, finally flipping to his belly and tilting his hips up. That made his lower back feel better but put more stress on his knees. “I don’t think my corporation likes what the kid’s doing to it very much.”

“Poor thing,” Aziraphale cooed, rubbing his hands into the muscles just above Crowley’s arse. “Why don’t you get in the tub and have a nice long soak?”

Crowley nodded sleepily, pushing back into the quick massage. “Coffee?”

“Just the one cup, you know you can't have too much.” Crowley moaned pitifully but didn’t disagree. “Go on then and get in the bath. There should be some of those salts you like so much in the cupboard.”

Crowley sent the angel a rare soft smile and a small pursing of his lips. Totally not a kiss. He did not send the angel air-kisses. Aziraphale nearly glowed, making a furtive hand motion like the not-kiss had landed right on his cheek. Crowley was extremely glad no one was around to see his raging blush. To make things easier he quickly made his escape towards the bathroom, muttering about sappy behaviour and absurd angels. 

In the bathroom he busied himself drawing the bath and getting the mix of Epsom salts, bubbles, and scented oils exactly right. Crowley had learned to secrets of drawing the perfect bath back in Rome, from one of the girls at a brothel he’d been ordered to create. A classy joint, less likely to attract bad types, and the girls were all paid well and there of their own free will. The one who’d taught him, her name unfortunately gone from his mind, had eventually left to start her own shop in town. It made him smile as he dashed in the final few ingredients; a hint of sandalwood and jasmine oil. 

While Crowley lowered himself into the steaming water he heard the shop phone ringing. Not too surprising, since Aziraphale still popped back here now and then and had finally installed an answering machine. Most of the messages were from confused former patrons or booksellers looking to give the angel a tip on a rare book. So he wasn’t too concerned when he heard the ringing stop and the muffled sound of Aziraphale answering. No, Crowley was more concerned with the simply fantastic feeling of the steaming water (hotter than a human could survive) and how it was relaxing the pinching muscles in his back. With a relieved sigh, Crowley relaxed fully into the bath and tipped his head back, letting his mind float amongst the bubbles. 

“A.Z. Fell and Co., terribly sorry but we’re closed indefinitely.” Aziraphale wasn’t sure why he’d even answered the phone. Habit, most likely. Still he didn’t feel like dealing with any customers, or his bookseller contacts. After the day they’d had, he wanted to fix them both a warm drink then join Crowley in the bath. 

“Aziraphale?” A familiar voice crackled over the old phone line. The phone had been put in as soon as such things were available, by Crowley, and its performance was as would be expected by a more than 200-year-old piece of technology. 

“Anathema! So good to hear from you,” he said, his demeanour changing rapidly. “How are things with little Alfred and the girls?”

“Oh, good, good. He’s feeding well. Sleeps about as well as Lottie but what can you do?” Aziraphale hummed sympathetically, remembering the times when he and Crowley had watched Charlotte as an infant. “But that’s not what I’m calling about. You remember a while back, when you met Freddie? How I said I’d try some scrying, and looking into the future?”

It had been a hectic day, what with he and Crowley arguing that whole time. “I do recall something about that. But don’t worry yourself dear, it’s an awful lot of trouble.”

Anathema made a soft sound, like a laugh and a sigh. “No, it’s no trouble. I uh, I already did it actually. My mom was visiting and she helped me with the setup so things would be as clear as possible. Did you want to know what I saw?”

“Of course! If you’re even half as talented as your ancestor, I'm sure it will be most useful. Not that you aren’t--oh you know what I mean don’t you?” Aziraphale babbled, extremely excited to know anything about their baby.

“I get it. Is Crowley around? He might want to hear.” 

“Yes, but he just got in the bath. His back has been hurting, and we had a stressful day yesterday,” he explained. Anathema hummed in understanding. 

“I know. It wasn’t too clear but one of the first things I saw was you two at the book shop, which is why I called there. Anyway, most of it seemed pretty normal; I saw the colour you picked for the nursery, it’s nice. There was a general feeling of excitement, and Crowley looked less sick. You both seemed… stressed though. And there was just one moment I think I saw someone crying? But I couldn’t tell who, the connection was breaking up.”

Aziraphale frowned but forced himself to say something quickly as to not make to poor girl think she'd upset him. “Well, things have already been looking better for Crowley with the morning sickness, so I’m very glad it looks like we’ve seen the last of it. And isn’t the colour wonderful?” It was obvious he was avoiding the latter half of her vision.

“Aziraphale… have you and Crowley been alright?” she asked. Humans could be so direct sometimes, and often Aziraphale didn’t know what to do with it. “We haven’t heard much from you two since you dropped the girls off”

“Well, you know how things are. We had a good talk, but it’s been difficult sometimes. It’s a big change, not to mention some hooligans decided to vandalize the book shop--”

“I saw that!” Anathema shouted, forcing Aziraphale to hold the receiver away from his ear with a wince. “I saw broken glass, and red paint? I wasn’t sure… I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to tell you in time.”

Once she calmed down and the angel was able to once again hold the phone close, Aziraphale answered. “Don’t worry, we only found out about it this morning, so there probably wouldn’t have been enough time for you to warn us anyways. Besides, it was nothing we couldn’t handle, and it gave us the excuse to make a little trip to London to update our barriers.”

“Well, that’s good then, I guess.” In the background, Aziraphale could hear the happy laughter of Charlotte and Annabella, followed by a baby crying. “Oh shoot, they woke Fred up. I have to go but if I see anything else I’ll let you know, alright?”

“Of course, lovely to hear from you dear girl.” With a click and a dial tone, their conversation was over and Aziraphale was left standing in the bookshop proper. The scream of the kettle broke him out of his post-discussion thinking though, and he suddenly remembered he was supposed to be making drinks and joining Crowley in the tub.

“Bugger,” he mumbled, covering his ears and rushing into the kitchenette. As quickly as possible he took the kettle off the hob and set about making the drinks. The entire time he dwelled on what Anathema had been able to tell him about their future. Stress, crying? Those sounded ominous, though he was glad to hear she saw nothing immediately disastrous. 

“Annnnnngle!” Crowley called from upstairs. “I’m dying of dehydration up here!” 

“Coffee is a diuretic love!” Aziraphale called back, adding a full cup of water to the tea tray he was putting together. He carried it back through the bookshop, avoiding any and all books. Usually, he would have prepared things in the flat above the shop, but the kitchen had been mostly stripped bare when they moved. There had been many items, like his antique tea kettle, that Azirphale simply had to bring to the cottage. 

“Finally!” Crowley shouted from the bathtub. Aziraphale noted the pleasant scent and obscene amount of bubbles with a fond smile. “I thought you’d forgotten about me for some bookseller.”

Aziraphale set the tray down on the counter and passed over Crowley’s coffee, then the water. “I could never forget about you dearest. Besides, that was Anathema calling, not one of my associates.” He wasn’t sure if he should tell Crowley everything right now, given the exhausting day. But, if Aziraphale had learned anything over the past few months, it was that if they were going to do this they had to be honest with each other.

“What did she want then?” Crowley asked, right on cue and just as Aziraphale had expected. The demon sat up and sipped his coffee, sneakily making space at the other end of the tub for Aziraphale if he so wished to join him. Which the angel did wish, most ardently. 

“Well you remember how she offered to try taking a peek at the future for us?” he asked as casually as possible. Crowley hummed in recognition. “Well, she just wanted to let us know that she saw a few things. Nothing major, though she did see something vague about the vandalism.”

Aziraphale focused on undressing, rather than worrying about Crowley getting upset. “She said your morning sickness is probably gone for good, and that there was a general feeling of excitement. A little bit of stress too, and maybe some…” he trailed off, finally naked and ready to get into the tub. He spared a glance toward Crowley and caught him looking both concerned, presumably, about the phone call, and interested in the angel’s naked form.

“Some what?” Crowley asked, eyes trained on Aziraphale as he sank into the water. The angel took a few seconds to get comfortable, arranging Crowley’s long, lanky legs so he had enough space. 

“She said we seemed, stressed. And that she saw someone--not necessarily one of us mind you because telling the future is tricky business as you know--”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley interrupted. “Gonna be honest you acting like this is stressing me out already. So if you could just get on with it?” 

“Yes, yes, sorry love. It really is nothing.” He took a deep settling breath. “Anathema said she saw someone crying.”

“Someone?”

“It would seem that even though she’s very persistent, Anathema doesn’t have Agnus’ keen eye for the future. That was all she said she could make out clearly.” Now that he’d said it Aziraphale felt a wave of relief wash over him. He hadn’t realized just how tense he’d gotten in the last few minutes. 

“OK. That’s OK. It could be anyone. Or even if it’s one of us it could be completely out of context,” Crowley said after a brief silence. “Jeeze I thought you were going to tell me she saw someone die or something.”

“Crowley! Don’t joke!” Aziraphale cried, sloshing the bathwater at he smacked the demon lightly on the calf. Crowley cackled and wiggled down into the bubbles, holding his coffee high enough to avoid the suds. 

“Sorry angel, sorry! M’just glad it’s not all doom and gloom, you know?” It was unlike Crowley to be the one with a positive outlook, which convinced Aziraphale further that he was making mountains out of molehills. “And I’m not going to lie, I’m frankly thrilled to be rid of that blasted morning sickness.”

Finally, Aziraphale felt like he could relax again. The bookshop flat’s tub had been one of his favourite things while living here, and he’d definitely missed its decadence. With the added benefits of hot tea and Crowley’s excellent company, things were quickly turning into a nearly perfect night. 

“Me too. You were such a sourpuss when you weren’t feeling well.”

“S-sour--? How dare you call the uh, the bearer of your child a sourpuss?!” Crowley sputtered, slipping a little in the water and getting bubbles up his nose. “Bastard.”

Aziraphale suppressed a smug grin. “Would you rather I tell you how radiant I think you look? Is that more appropriate?” Crowley, who was already sneezing bubbles out of his nose also began to turn beet red. “Or maybe I should offer to wash your hair and lavish you with attention?”

“Ngk.” Crowley blushed prettily, all the way down his neck and chest to the edge of the bathwater. “Can you do it without making a mess of my curls?”

Aziraphale scoffed, already reaching for the pre-conditioning treatment and hydrating shampoo Crowley preferred to use. “I’ve washed your hair before and done a fine job. Now turn your back to me so I can begin if you please.”

“Bossy angel,” Crowley muttered, his voice distinctly lacking in venom. “Be careful, think I moved too much during my nap and now there’s a huge tangle back there.”

“Of course dear. You let me know right away if I’m pulling too hard.” He squirted a healthy dollop of pre-conditioner and began massaging it into Crowley’s hair, ends first. Helpless to the gentle stroking of Aziraphale’s fingers through his hair Crowley sighed. The angel leaned forward so he could rest his head on Crowley’s shoulder and admire his husband’s relaxed form. Crowley leaned back, his arms resting on the sides of the tub, the slight swell of his belly just barely peeking out from the water and bubbles. He’d really started showing in the last week or two and Aziraphale could barely keep his hands to himself. 

As he let the conditioner sit his hands wandered and he let them. They explored the space at the base of Crowley’s skull, that little squishy indent where his skull met his spine. Then down to the shoulders--familiar territory--and back. Aziraphale wished he was in a position to massage his lover’s sore muscles more efficiently, but for now his caresses would have to do. 

From Crowley’s back he moved forward to his stomach. The roundness where there used to be only hard muscle caused a phantom-sensation, like joy zipping through his fingertips at being so close to their baby. Not to mention seeing Crowley so round and soft for the first time ever was still novel and a little exciting. The baby was quiet for now, no movement stirring under his fingertips, but Aziraphale didn’t mind. Just being close like this was enough.

“Ready to rinse?” he asked. Crowley, who had been drifting in that hazy space between dreaming and wakefulness, nodded. Aziraphale carefully tipped the demon’s head back to the faucet and ran cool water over the demon’s hair to wash the conditioner out. The shampoo came next, a delicious apple-scented mixture that Aziraphale was almost sure Crowley ordered custom from somewhere on the internet. That didn’t need to sit, so he quickly washed it out and moved on to the final conditioning.

“I can’t belive you do this every day,” Aziraphale remarked. Crowley chuckled--though it was really more of a giggle, which he would deny to his final breath--and wiggled around until he was laying on his side against Aziraphale’s chest, gazing up at him.

“Doesn’t take as long in the shower, you know. And not every day, you’ve seen me slummin it more than once and you still love me.” Aziraphale couldnt’ help but lean down and peck a kiss to his love’s nose.

“Darling I loved you before regular bathing was a thing so to speak. You’ve always been radiant.” Crowley wiggled again, all blissed-out and content. Aziraphale felt much the same.

“Do you remember when perfume was really in style? Couldn’t go fice minutes without sneezing.” They both laughed, followed by Azirpahale launching into a story about the time he’d had to revive a prominent noblewoman from a terribly unfortunate allergic reaction to his at-the-time newest fragrance. It was homey, and domestic, and they both thoroughly enjoyed it until the bathwater began to cool. Not that they couldn’t keep the water hot if they both wanted, but if they did that they may never leave the tub again

“Time to get out then?” he asked once Crowley’s hair was combed through and rinsed one final time. Crowley wiggled about for a few more minutes, waggling his toes in the sudsy water. Aziraphale allowed him the small pleasure of making a bit of a wet mess of the bathroom floor for a while because it meant he got to watch that small, shit-disturbing grin on the demon's face. When five minutes were up, he leaned forward and pulled the plug himself. 

“Fine, fine.” He let Aziraphale help him up, then wrap him in a great big, fluffy towel. Aziraphale did the same for himself, then turned to Crowley, handing wiping aside a few hairs that had become stuck to his face. 

“More rest, or do you fancy some dinner?” It was getting late, the bookshop slowly falling dark in the dusky evening light. Crowley was soft and pliant in his hands, not moving in the slightest as the angel miracled them into their respective relaxing clothes: sweats and a t-shirt for Crowley, and his usual get up, topped off with his soft reading jacket. “We could order in, if you like.”

“Lets compromise and pick something up? Can’t spend all day cooped up.” Crowley’s aversion to remaining stationary for too long hadn’t settled after the drive in the Bently and they’d been slowly going out more and more. Restaurants were still off the table, because food was still hit or miss for the demon, but they’d been enjoying walks in the park, long drives, and the occasional show at the theatre. Besides, Crowley intended to spend all night in the angel’s bed anyway, and if he played his cards right it would be easy to get Aziraphale to join him.

[asupportiveanon]

Someday

Bucky x Reader

Warning(s): none? short ~1,400 words.

Summary: Time for an annual basket lunch auction. (Based off of the Gilmore Girls episode: “A-Tisket, A-Tasket”)

A/N: idk if this has been done but i... i almost want to do a part 2? also feel free to send in requests, i would love to get better with my writing (just a warning that i’m slow with writing!) and sorry for any errors! 

To say you were excited was an understatement, you have been waiting for this since last year.

The organizer of this event, your best friend, had forced invited you to go after one of her friends had a family emergency. You weren’t sure how to feel when she explained that you would have to throw some food in a basket, which it would later be auctioned off, and then proceed to go on a ‘lunch date’ with the highest bidder. She reassured you that you didn’t have to think of it as a date, that you could think of it as hanging out with someone you may or may not know. Your first basket ever was auction off to a kind mechanic, who stumbled upon the event at the park by chance. The conversation would sometimes turn awkward, but after telling him your car trouble, he babbled off about what the problem could be. Some of what he was talking about you understood, but other words left you confused and randomly nodding your head. You loved his passion for his job though. What made you love the event, despite its possibly awkward moments, was when he offered to check out your car- free of charge. Which was why, a year after that, you went to the basket auction again, hoping to make a new connection, discount on something, or free favor. And you did, with a pastry chef who offered you a discount for cupcakes at her shop.  

This year the money raised would be going to a cause you were passionate about. So, you decided to give out an open invitation to the team, hoping that some of them would come to help or bid. If they happened to bid on yours, that’d just be icing on the cake. Maybe you could also get them to fix something of yours, but that was unlikely. You would understand if they didn’t want to or couldn’t go, most parents and kids can clock them out, possibly taking the attention away from the event and towards them. They let you know that they’ll probably be hanging at the café or around the park. Thanking them, you leave the kitchen to head out of the tower so you can buy a basket, making sure to bring along your food. You needed to find one soon, that way you can turn it in at the park’s gazebo.

-

After handing in your basket, you decided to relax. You ran to multiple stores, hoping to find one that was just right. If it was too small they would think there’s no food, too big and they would think you had some fancy, delicious food. You never really knew what to make, and as time passed, you got more and more lazy.

The bidding was fun to watch with a friend, both of you making up what food was inside of the basket and who made it. You bump shoulders with her when you notice your basket on display. She nonchalantly mentions that she had invited some guys, leaving you to instantly stress as you heard the bidding become more intense. You made a mental note to reprimand her later as you made your way out of the crowd. Looking for any member of the team, your gaze quickly lands on a brooding, yet soft presence sitting outside a locally-owned café. Thankfully, it was not too far away from where the auction was being held.

“Hey!” He looked up taking in your frantic expression as you got closer, “Hey Bucky, you gotta come with me. Like right now, we gotta go now!” You removed the coffee from his hand, ignoring his grunts of protest and, to no avail, trying to pull him out of the chair. Throwing him a pout, he reluctantly gets up on the next tug of his arm.

“What the hell are you doi-?”  

“Do you have money? You know what I’ll give you some of mine,” You cut him off while pulling out your wallet. You feel him softly touch your wrist, momentarily snapping you out of your frenzy and into his beautiful blue eyes.

“Ease up, Y/N/N. What’s going on?” He asked, giving a light chuckle.

“My friend has been trying to set me up and invited some guys to bid on my basket. I need you to save me by outbidding them,” You shove a couple of twenty-dollar bills into his hand, “This should help.”

He looks at the wrinkled bills in his hand before looking up at you, confusion still evident. “Why don’t you bid on it?”

“Because it’s my basket! I can’t buy my own basket, that’s just pathetic!” You whine, shaking his metal hand and tilting your head back for a more dramatic effect. You slowly start to drag him towards the auction and you’re surprised when he starts to walk with you.

“And it isn’t pathetic that you’re giving me money to buy it?” He retorts, shoving the money in his pocket. You can slightly hear the bidding going on in the background, increasing by a dollar.

“They don’t know that! Plus, I can live with that,” You tell him, turning to face the crowd before you stop to look at him. “So… will you?” He sighs before nodding, a small smile on his face. You rush back to where you were before and immediately noticed that your friend was gone.

“Forty!” “Forty-five!”

You nudge Bucky’s left arm with your elbow, “Feel free to bid anytime, Sarge.” He rolls his eyes at the nickname, letting out a small snort.

“Fifty!” “Fifty-two!” “Going once-

“Ya know, you’re missing the whole ‘saving’ me aspect, Avenger,” You remark, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I’m spending more than fifty dollars on some plums and piz-”

“You mean I’m spending? Also, it’s for charity,” You roll your eyes. You hear the announcer say ‘going twice’ and desperately say, “Bucky, now would be great.”

“Fifty-five!” He yells, turning to you he whispers, “Happy?”

“Isn’t there a limit?” The guy mumbles, irritated.

“Fifty- five going once!” You sing.

The auctioneer glares at you and points his gavel at you, “That’s my job, back off!” You throw your hands up, surrendering, “Fifty-five going onc-”

“Sixty!” The second guy yells, you whip your head towards him.

“Sixty-two and twenty cents?” Bucky shouts. Oh please win.

“Sixty-two twenty going once, sixty-two twenty going twice…” The auctioneer gives the men a split second, before saying, “Sold for sixty-two twenty!”

You give Bucky a quick hug, before laughing. “Yeah! Don’t worry you guys are technically the winner, there’s only some fruit and some old pizza!” You tell the guy, before looping your arm through Bucky’s. You two made your way to the front to pay for the basket. Up until that point, you forgot about the ‘date’ aspect and you try to ignore the way your heart flutters.

“So now what?” Bucky asks, looking at you while holding the basket. You unloop your arm and head to the bench several feet away from you. Sitting down, you motion for him to do the same. Opening the basket, you take out a slice of pizza and start to eat.

“We’re gonna eat that?” He points to the pizza, eyebrows furrowing.

You gasp, placing your hand over your heart. “I’m insulted! I’ll have you know I spent hours picking those plums and getting that pizza from the best pizzeria.” You pout.  

Bucky rolls his eyes, “I bet.” He opts for the plum first, humming in appreciation after he takes a bite. Your pout is replaced with a content smile when you notice how relax Bucky is. Taking in the rest of your surroundings, you realize just how beautiful the park looks today. The air is crisp, people are chatting happily. You can tell they are thoroughly enjoying their lunch and it makes you wonder if anyone is developing a crush on their date. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when Bucky clears his throat.

“Why did ya join this?”

“Besides the cause, I like the idea of a romantic lunch. And the possibility of someone you like bidding on your basket or being your date. It’s cute and awkward like a first date. Maybe… someday I’ll find the right guy and drag him to this. Make him bid for my basket and eat something yummy.”

It’s quiet for a moment, causing you to turn to look at him. For a split second, you hope he says that he’s the right guy. That that someday is today.

“Yeah… someday.”

[lewiselder]

lewis vs kids

like the world’s foremost degenerative gambler once said, “i’m back.” but enough about michael jordan. holy shit. it’s been almost a year since my last post. the thing is, nothing arm-related has happened to me in that time. 

HAHAHAHA *laughing trails off* 

i’m playing. i’ve just been slacking. how have you guys been? i hope you’ve been good! or, well, i hope at least medium. 

man, a lot has happened in the in-between. i have a different job. i’m still in austin but moving in a couple weeks. i’ve bought shoes. i’ve sold shoes. i’ve started eating oranges. a lot has also stayed the same. i still don’t own a pair of jeans. i’m still not wearing no fucking button up shirts. still doing anxiety ridden push ups at 3am. still laying in bed every night googling pictures of doughnuts. such is life. 

there are a bunch of stories i still need/want to tell you. i keep a rolling tab in my phone and we’ve knocked out 4 of 19. today we’re going to ease back into things with 2 short stories with one overlapping theme: kids. did my title give it away?

kids! everybody fuckin loves kids. kids kids kids. so nice! so sweet! so pure! may god in his all knowing, arm designing wisdom bless the youths. 

i like kids. 

however. 

kids don’t have filters. this is one of the reasons you cornballs love them. this is one of the reasons i’m still a little more on the fence. obvious physical disfigurements and young, full of wonder children are a volatile mix.  we’re going to do 2 real quick stories, one from the past and one from the present, to demonstrate. let’s get weird.

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#1 - AHHHHHHH!

my junior year of college i pledged Phi Beta Sigma. part of the, uh, joining process (Phi Beta Sigma is a non-hazing organization) was volunteering at the local Boys and Girls club where an older Sigma brother worked as a director (shout out Josh!). face value, this is a pretty sweet deal. volunteering is good, kids are cool, and this was certainly a welcomed reprieve from the rest of the joining process.  

however. (this the same however from before ^ good dude, but moves around a lot)

like i may have mentioned, i have a disfigured left arm. me and my disfigured left arm (and my 4 line brothers) took the bus out to the Boys and Girls club for our first session. mind you, this is wisconsin in like, february, so we’re all in multiple layers of coats and hoodies and all that shit. 

so, we get there, meet up with Josh, get shown around, meet some kids, yadda yadda. now, at this point we’re starting to step into a very nuanced part of my life. one of the reasons i don’t like wearing layers of clothing, or jackets, or button ups, is because i’m not a goofy cornball, but also because long sleeves often mean my left arm is covered and more or less camouflaged. this means i enter some place and the other humans in that place see me and process my existence as one thing. then, i have to go through the fucking shit awful experience of removing the camouflage and re-presenting myself as far from that original thing. people’s responses vary from really shocked to really fucking shocked (they don’t vary). this sucks 1000% of the time. actually one of my biggest arm stories is about this exactly. we’ll get there another day. 

ANYWAY, we start hanging out with some of the kids to get to know them. eventually i get hot (shout out all my fellow thicc n sweaty folx). i make the decision to remove my camouflage. i take my jacket off and almost immediately this young boy, probably around like idk 10?, we were playing ping pong with let’s out a shout.

AHHHHHHH!

him: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOUR ARM? 

me: ahhhhh yeahhhhh it’s a birth defect man. i was born with it

him: (again) AHHHHHHH! 

me: hmmmmm

him: AHHHHHHH! YO PUT IT AWAY

me: this is fun

him: OH MY GOD YO PUT IT AWAY PLEEEEEASE PUT IT AWAY PUTITAWAYPLEASEPUTITAWAY

me: well shit

i tried to talk with dude but he was pretty out of pocket and was not listening. i eventually just put my jacket back on. i did not go back for the next volunteering session lol. 

#2 - Shhhh, Katy STOP

this one’s from a few weeks ago. it’s a lot less outrageous than the previous story, but it will bring up an interesting point.  

i was at a coffee shop near my crib on a saturday afternoon. this is april in austin, tx (the kissing dogs in the mouth capital of america) so no jacket camouflage for lewis. 

i’m sitting next to a mom and her daughter. the daughter quickly notices that i’m wearing very rare raging bull 5s. she asks me how much i got them for. i tell her $260 shipped in vnds condition! she says no fucking way dude great pick up. we do a mid-air high five while throw some d’s blasts in the background, shout out rich boy. always shout out rich boy.

the end!

ok. maybe that’s not exactly what happened. 

maybe she noticed my arm and backed away. maybe she started whispering to her mom. maybe i heard her say, 

“what’s wrong with his arm??? does it hurt??? do you think he’s mad???” 

i remember the mad one made me lol. i’m more mad that every day people choose to wear birkenstocks but yeah, 6 of one, half dozen of the other. 

her mom, more conscious of the fact they were 30 inches from the man they were talking about than the daughter was, was beginning to hit a state of suppressed panic. i couldn’t hear all of what they were saying, but the mom was desperately trying to get her to be quiet. eventually culminating with a louder than intended, 

“Shhhh, Katy STOP.”

Katy did indeed stop. the mom took a big sigh of relief and a big gulp of coffee. I stared straight ahead thinking about how $260 shipped for raging bull 5s is a fucking lick. a. fucking. lick.

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And that’s it. Important to note that I wasn’t mad at the kids in either story. They’re kids. My arm looks a lot different than theirs do. I get that. I wasn’t thrilled with the first dude, but ah, what are you gonna do. I’ve spent most of my life coping (whether through jokes, fighting, writing, whatever) with the othering that comes with being disfigured/disabled. 

I think what I want to end this post on is the question of how do you teach your kids to treat people with disfigurements or disabilities. Seriously, how the fuck. I’m actually asking because I’m really not sure. I’ve seen parents encourage their kids to come right up to me and ask. That’s like, ok, but also pretty presumptuous and kind of bogus. What if I don’t want to talk to you or your sticky handed kid. I (or anyone) should have the right to not be bothered just because you’re curious. I’ve seen parents tell their kids to shut all the way the fuck up. This is fine too. Tbh, I kind of appreciate those parents. Tho, is that just shutting down what could be a developmental moment? I don’t know. 

I will tell you that I don’t miss being a kid. I’ll never connect with people who long for the days of their childhood. Being disfigured as a kid is fucking hard. Like, really fucking hard. I have the marks on my hands (and probably the deep-seeded emotional trauma) to prove it. Like an ex-gf’s mom once said to me when meeting her for the first time (she was a physical therapist and somehow noticed this upon shaking hands), “oh you’ve broken a few of your knuckles before, huh?” Life is much better as an adult. 

I don’t plan on having kids, but if I did, how would I teach them to treat disabled people? And at what point would they realize their father is different? Will it be when some kids at school start giving them shit about their father with the little arm? Then my burden has become theirs through no fault of their own. 

Idk. I don’t have the answers, Sway (2014 was fun, wasn’t it?). Just tell your kids, your little cousins, your friends and family, not to be dicks. I know that’s reductive, but yeah idk man just don’t fucking suck. And try your best to make others around you suck less, too. 

Life is weird and stressful but it has doughnuts and cool grey 11s so i think it mostly evens out. Talk to ya’ll soon. Shout out Rich Boy.

*1 free donut if u read this far*