In the end, only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.
Gautama Buddha (via bonvivantx)
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@barkerjulian
In the end, only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.
Gautama Buddha (via bonvivantx)
CLAIRE:
She had lost him again, it had been the fourth time that month and she was completely sure that by now, everyone was thinking that she had been taking poor care of the dog, since the little Beagle just fled like Claire was Satan. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely the case, but still, dogs should want to be around their owners, right? If that was the case, then it would have solved the mystery, the old Beagle didn’t belong to her at all, he belonged to her sister and probably much like Claire did, he missed her. The blonde was tired of looking for him and the only option she had been left with was to ask around, maybe someone had seen the little thing and kept him safe. If only.·
She made her entrance through the Blackbird Pub door, not knowing if it was still closed or not. Actually she wondered if she was alone in there, the place looked seriously morbid for such an early hour of the day. It wasn’t until a voice startled her that she even turned around.
· · · · ·“–Shit! Sorry, I… I was wondering if a Beagle came through your door? Answers by· · · · · · the name of Peebles and is around nine years old? I lost the damn dog again and I was… · · · · · ·just wondering.”
"Well it's not like the pub has a doggy door for him to sneak in through?"
The bartender answered. It had been meant to be a joke but he'd forgotten to smile, something Julian had forgetting to do a lot lately, and now it probably just seemed like he was belittling the blonde. Something that he definitely had not set out to do. Running callous fingers over his jawline, the twenty four year old made a quick decision. Standing up abruptly from his seat in the wide chest, making the wooden container smack against the aged floors of the pubs as it fell back towards the ground. “He isn’t in here, but here I’ll help you look for him.” It was the least he could do after all, the idea of a scared dog out there or an anxious woman looking for it not sitting well in his stomach.
Besides, he doubted anyone needed drinks this early in the day anyways and he wouldn’t hurt him to get some fresh air. Rather than sitting in an empty bar alone with only his less than cheery thoughts to accompany him.
“Pebbles huh? Do you have a cat named Bam Bam too?”
Distance makes the heart grow fonder, said by someone a lot stronger than me. So what do I do now? Do now? So what do I do now? I don't keep love around anymore.
NINA:
So far, that had been the best answer she’d heard yet. In other cases, she’d been met with befuddled expressions and several people asking ‘Who’s Matt Corby?’. It wasn’t just insulting – it was downright sacrilegious. If Nina had the time, she might’ve tried to educate those others. As it stood, she was sure it was too late to even bother trying to save them. “I reckon he would. He writes love songs – he’d be all about that dramatic romance shit. Although his music is chill as fuck…” she paused to contemplate her answer and shrugged. “Eh. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”
And this, this was the precise reason that teenage girls scared the hell out of Julian. It was as if every generation they got wilder and more terrifying. Cooking up diabolical schemes while still managing to look harmless and innocent. But was it really that shocking? “I write love songs too but that doesn’t really mean I want girls to sacrifice their first borns for me.” He played along, grateful for a conversation that took his mind off his own life problems. “Well I guess that works well enough, but how you going to hide the stretch marks from being pregnant before he knew you? I hear some tattoo places fill scars now so that might help you.”
TRIPP:
Exactly. I mean, I can’t make any promises. Cause if we really want to sell this it’s going to be have to be a close call.
At least I’d leave this earth because of a noble cause, making sure you feel secure in your line of work. Just be a true friend and do me a favor, at least attempt to get the Foo Fighters to play at my funeral. Like I want a hashtag on twitter telling them to come.
EMILY:
Talking with Julian was something that Emily really had no choice but to do. She had been putting it off for awhile now, given that she didn’t want to be consumed with the guilt of remembering someone who clearly remember her. It was rather difficult to even think about going down that road, when she had already been dealing with so much. And yet, here she was, walking into a place people had told her he’d be at, wondering what was going to come of something like that. Would it end in burning flames, or paradise? Of course, given the circumstances, she sorta assumed it would be the former of the two options. However, she had to make some sort of effort, right? Standing in the doorway, Emily pushed open the glass door, only to hear the chimes go off. Other than that, it was pure silence, until she noticed a darkly shaped man turned around to face her.
“Oh.. uh.. right. Um, I’ll just go then… Sorry, I should’ve read the sign.”
Whatever peace the hour alone and cleaning had given him, was quickly taken away at the sound of her voice. Her familiar, soothing, as unique as any melody he'd ever written, voice. And for a moment he was the one with amnesia, forgetting that she did not know him anymore and that technically were no longer together as a smile crept over his features. But the blissful ignorance hadn’t lasted and within seconds everything came back to him flashes. Getting the call that something had happened. The weeks he’d spent in a hospital room bribing her to come back to him. Praying to whatever god he could think of that’d she would wake up, and she had. But at what cost? She hadn’t died, but he lost her all the same.
Pushing himself out of the tight chest, the auburn haired man wiped suddenly sweaty hands against the back of his jeans as he approached her. “Wait, for you I’ll be willing to make an exception.” Because there was truly nothing he’d not do for Emily Fairmont, even now when he knew he meant nothing to her. “What can I get you?”
TRIPP:
So what you are saying is you are willing to get punched, and maybe take a broken beer bottle to the side. This could be promising.
What can I say, I've always been a team player. All I ask in return is that you make sure I don't actually die, but hell even that part is debatable. Go big or go home right?
TRIPP:
Hey, why brag about me, when you could brag about yourself? The role of patient #2 is open and I’m taking auditions.
Honestly with the amount of bad luck in my life I probably won’t even have to audition. A bar fight will break out while I’m at work and before you know it I’m on your gurney making you a star.
Opening the pub by himself this morning, he’d shown up an hour early. Immediately putting soft music on in the background as he took down chairs and wiped down tables. Once he was finished, out of boredom and need to be difficult, he’d squeezed himself into the chest by the performers stage. Tilting his head up towards the ceiling as he slowly began to hum along to the old rock and roll tune flowing from the speakers. It was then the familiar sound of chimes filled the room. Signaling that someone had opened the door.
“Sorry, we’re not open for another ten minutes.”
PIERCE:
“Nothing feels better than getting pelted with eggs, when you’re holding a sign about protecting trans kids. I did get revenge though, I left a bunch of brochures in their car. So, sucks to be them.”
It was last call at the pub and as Julian wiped down the bar for the last time of the night, he listened to the man’s tale. A small laugh escaping him on accident. It wasn’t because Pierce had been pelted with eggs or because he thought people being close minded was funny, but the man’s definition of revenge. “I’m not saying leaving them brochures is dumb, because they obviously need to be educated, but how about next time you want to get revenge it not easily be tossed away?”
NINA:
“— – let me put it this way; I would ritually sacrifice my firstborn to be Matt Corby’s one and only. Does that make me a bad person? Probably. A bad mother? Definitely maybe. But it’s like Meatloaf said. I’d do anything for love – even that.”
Staring blankly at the girl in front of him Julian couldn’t help but to think that this conversation would make a lot more sense if he knew who exactly this Matt Corby was. But even then, she wasn’t even talking about just giving up the child, but murdering it? He was quite sure whether he was more horrified or amused. Probably both. “But would Matt Corby want you when he finds out what you did to get him though? That’s the question.”
SERENA:
Halloween was a unique festivity for The Grimoire. It’s appearance, granted, tended to always scream louder than the Monster Mash on the many speakers set up around the event. As it grew near, the crowds accumulated in size and the sale grew as well. The scene was rockin’ close and the decor was welcoming to all ages, with booths lining up outside, customers ventured inside the large building. The booths sat displaying fake skeletons, real burning sage, falsified baby coffins, etc. Serena Alessi’s long & ever-so shiny ebony curls fell on tan bare skin towards her spine with a striped neon green witch’s hat accompanied on her scalp, sat at a booth that read ‘Free Tarot Readings’ on the front in large somewhat squarish letters.
“—— - Dare to try?” She inquired. Her hues lighting up as the sky took to deepen with the night.
Julian's life for the last couple of weeks had fallen into a predictable routine. Pulling double shifts at the Blackbird, he'd usually end up back at his apartment by 4am. Precede to spend most of the day sleeping, and then back to work before repeating it all over again. It wasn’t much of a social life, but it kept him from showing up at Emily’s house every day like a love sick idiot, and hey, at least his paychecks seemed to have gotten bigger because of his extra shifts. Tonight had been different however, his manger ordering him to go home before he passed out from exhaustion and while Julian had every honest intention of doing just that, the crowd at the Grimoire piped his curiosity just enough to enter.
Immediately he was transported into what felt like another world. One straight out of Tim Burton’s wildest fantasies and for the first time in weeks a genuine smile graced the lips of Julian as he took in the spooky scenery and joyous crowd. As he moved out of the way of two speeding children, he’d unintentionally ended up in front of a booth.
“Um, sure? What’s the worst that can happen right?”
ADDY:
“I didn’t even know it was possible to actually start a fire making popcorn. But I guess now I have an excuse to just order pizza.”
Sprawled lazily across his friend's floor Julian hadn't even noticed the pregnant women getting up until the distinct smell of burned popcorn drifted into the living room. Prompting the young man to close the notebook he'd been scribbling in to go check on things. “At least you can blame baby brain as the reason, not that you need a reason because I sure as hell am not really planning to tell anyone you almost killed us all. Especially if I get pizza out of it.”
TRIPP:
If I could just make it on one episode of Untold Stories of the E.R. I would find this whole nursing gig, and my medical career, worth it.
The appropriate answer here would be to tell you that you don’t need to find validation from a reality tv show, but it would be pretty bad ass if I could brag about knowing that one dude who saved that one girl on that one episode of Untold Stories.
‘I’m one of those people who can never do chat up lines. I’ve never tried it, I’m really terrible.”
rainbowheadphones:
just take off your wings they could never get you quite as high as i did
Apology accepted. Trust denied.
(via cosmiqe)