hold on;

the name's rachel. you'll probably hear me comin' before you see me.

[gtgrachel-blog]

TEXT: DARREN

Rachel: Happy birthday, or something or nothin'. Don't feel too flattered, we're Facebook friends, remember? ;)

[gtgrachel-blog]

dnwdarren :

Glancing at the clock on the wall behind his back, shown in reverse through the mirror before him, Darren smiled to himself. 8pm. Perfect. The ballet studio that Bea spent so many of her hours at usually found itself empty once the clock struck 7pm. Darren knew this from all the times that he had shown up uninvited to watch Bea rehearse, watching as she and all the other dancers worked their magic. He always found himself laughing at the stony faces of some of the dancers – like that stuck up Cece chick, and Bea’s uptight theatre pal Isaac – while Bea always seemed to just be enjoying herself, never taking herself too seriously, while still being incredibly talented.

All in all, Dance Alley was a pretty rad place to hang out, even if he was too ashamed to join in with all of the other dancers. He would have felt comfort in watching the likes of Isaac performing there for hours on end, but Isaac was actually gay – and openly so – and he didn’t need more rumours about his own sexuality circulating. And so, instead, Darren would hang around until closing time, when Angelica, or her mother, or one of the other members of staff, would lock up, and then he’d make his way into one of the studios and let loose. He supposed what he was doing was probably illegal or something, and that James would be horrified if he knew, but no matter how hard he tried to push it aside, he loved to dance, and he just wanted a few hours to himself to get it out of his system. And then, as he would every Monday, he’d sneak his way past the janitor, and slip through the open door come 10 o'clock, giving him a solid 30 minutes to get home and make his excuses.

Having stripped himself of his t-shirt, clad only in his scruffy flats and a pair of sweats, he observed his form in the mirror before him. Frowning, he tried to recall the exact instructions that he’d read online, and the various different videos he’d watched on youtube. His dads had enrolled him in dance classes when he was 5 years old, something that he hoped against all odds that neither James, nor Taylor, could recall. He’d quit when he was almost 10 years old, remembering the taunts and the way he’d been teased by the other kids in his class, and how old students at his school had thrown homophobic slurs his way. He’d ran home crying, but hadn’t had the strength to tell his dads, and instead had resolved for kicking and screaming and complaining to his older brother. Damien had been nothing but patient with him, soothing him and wiping away the tears from his eyes, telling him that there was nothing wrong with being a boy who danced. But since that very day Darren had vowed not to go back, he couldn’t handle the embarrassment, and so he would learn to dance in private, and he wouldn’t tell a soul.

And that was why he was standing in front of an enormous mirror at some ridiculous hour trying to perfect a pirouette.

Trying, and failing.

Starting himself in fourth position, he angled his left foot to the side, with his right foot mirroring it’s action in the other direction, his heel inches away from the arch of his left foot. Holding his left arm out to the front, and his right arm stretched to the side, he slowly bent his knees into a plie, sinking his heels into the ground below. So far, so good.

Now for the hard part.

As his knees bent beneath him, his eyes focused on staring straight ahead, his entire body tight as he held his position, he kicked off from the ground, ready to twist his body appropriately. As his feet lifted into the air, he raised one of his legs to the side, bending it so that his toes pointed towards his knee. Then, as he tried to find balance in the air, his legs gave out beneath him, and he toppled to the ground with a thud, his knees crashing forward on the hardwood floor.

“Motherf-” he cried out, wincing as he slid a small way across the studio floor. That was not how it was meant to go. But it also wasn’t the first time he’d fallen in an attempt at perfecting the move. It was the first time he’d gotten so far into his attempt, however, and he felt a smug sense of pride well up inside of him for his efforts. And all of that without a teacher.

Just as he was getting ready to lift himself off of the ground and try again, he heard a crash sound from somewhere nearby. He hoped that it was just something outside, and that there wasn’t anybody else inside the building, but he didn’t have a lot of hope. It had sounded like it was coming from the hallway just outside of the room he was currently not supposed to be in.

“Uh… Hello?” Darren called out, nervously raking a hand through his hair as he waited for a response. When none came, he wondered if maybe he had just imagined the noise, as he couldn’t see, or hear, any signs of movement outside. The only lights on in the building were the ones in the hallway – which Darren had used to guide him through the building – and the one in the room he currently resided in. Surely if someone else were here he’d have noticed some other signs of life?

Strangely conscious of the fact that he was technically breaking and entering – while dancing shirtless like a bit of a pansy – he decided to focus on some of the moves that were a little less strenuous, and perhaps wouldn’t involve him falling flat on his butt and causing a racket. Edging closer to the large mirror that consumed half of the room, and resting his hand on the bar attached to it, he focused instead on working on his form and perfecting his plie. Just as he was getting the hang of it, however, he heard the unmistakable sound of a door creaking behind him and – ignoring the glaringly obvious fact that he was already facing a mirror – frantically spun around on the spot, arching his brow as he spotted someone lurking in the doorway.

“What the hell?” he snapped, his eyes wide as he realised just how much trouble he could be in.

Sighing, Rachel watched as the last of the ballerinas disappeared through the front door of Dance Alley. The door thudded resolutely behind them, drowning out the sounds of their high pitched giggles and lively chatter. Thus, a day of perfecting pliés and throwing around dance terms Rachel had never been able to understand ended. Sure, she’d been able to copy them in her bedroom at home, clumsily sliding her feet across the carpet and pointing her toes, but she’d never know the correct terminology, and she’d never be a classically trained dancer. Not like the girls and boys she watched longingly every day.

Bitterly, the blonde stuck out her middle finger at the closed doors, suddenly irritated at the dancers. It wasn’t that she disliked any of them, so to say. Angelica was sweet as hell, and it was kind of thanks to her Mom that Rachel had this gig in the first place. She even liked the stuck up, serious ones, like Isaac and Wilhelm. The latter could actually be pretty funny at times, although his blunt quips rarely seemed intentionally hilarious. But unlike her, they were all actually students at this goddamn studio. Something Rachel would never be.

Clamping her headphones over her head, she stood in the dimly lit hallway for a moment, awash in a pool of yellow light. Rachel scrolled through her playlist on her old iPhone, a present that had been provided to her a few years back by her eldest sister. Rachel didn’t think she’d been particularly thankful at the time. In fact, she think her words had been, ‘Gee, sis, next year, why don’t y’all just buy me a tracking device?’. After all, that’s what it was. A way for Anna to ensure she knew where Rachel was at all time, whether she was walking home in the dark or skipping school. The phone was both a blessing and a curse. 

Scrolling pasts playlists filled with Tchaikovsky and Debussy, Rachel settled on Tom Waits’ Alice, letting his plaintive love song fill her ears as she pushed down the corridor, and into the janitor’s closet at the far end of the hall. 

Whilst Rachel did see the ballet studio as an odd kind of safe haven, the janitor’s closet was her own territory. Among the stacks of cleaning cloths, air fresheners, mop buckets and bottles of bleach, were some of Rachel’s own things. She’d tacked pictures up on the far wall, squirrelled away bottles of vodka in the far corner that was too dusty for anyone to bother peering into. There was even a rolled up sleeping bag jammed under the shelving unit, should Rachel ever feel the desire to run away. This city wasn’t like home, her own private labyrinth where she could pick and choose hiding places. The ballet studio was the only place she knew in New York City.

Huffing, Rachel curled a hand around the handle of the mop bucket, using her other to take up a mop. Dragging this from the small, narrow closet shouldn’t be too hard. The difficult part would be getting it into the large, airy studio, trying not to slop water over the side as she did so. Rachel was contemplating the best way to get this done when something compelled her to tug at her headphones, clamping them down over her curly mane. She thought she’d heard the thud of ballerina feet, coaxing themselves in and out of certain positions and manipulating their bodies in ways Rachel only wish she knew how to do.

“You’re just spookin’ yourself, Rach.” she rationalised, shaking her head. She’d watched every dancer, every member of staff trickle out, until she was the only one who remained. She held the keys. “Phantom footsteps. Pft. Alrighty then, you goddamn scaredy-cat.”

Annoyed with herself, she moved to resume her duties, only to hear a definitive thud, plus the sound of someone cursing loudly. Immediately, Rachel yelped, jumping backward as though the sound were in the room with her. Taking a leap back in the already narrow space caused her to hit her head off a nearby shelf, knocking a shelf loose and sending stacks of toilet paper raining down on her.

“Motherfucker!” Rachel subconsciously parroted, reaching up to rub the back of her head. “I swear to God, if I’m bleedin’, if any Goddamn burglar or dumbfuck ballerina made me bleed-”

Unsure how she was just going to finish that threat, Rachel took up her mop, and kicking aside piles of extra-soft toilet paper, stormed out of the closet, attempting to locate the sound of the noise. Noticing light streaming from the room, Rachel immediately burst in, brandishing her mop. 

Fortunately, all she found was a rather surprised - and pissed off looking - dancer. Although, she didn’t know what right he had to be pissed off. She had almost just cracked her head open, for Chrissakes. 

“What the Sam Hill do you think you’re doin’?” she counteracted, shaking her mop at him defiantly. “Place is closed, Dance Academy, so why don’t you pack up your things and be on your way?”

Huffing, Rachel eyed him a little, it quickly coming to her attention that she’d never seen the kid before.

“Say, I don’t know you. Not breakin’ in, are we?” she asked.

[confessmessina-blog]

the southern chick and the blue haired chick are a disaster waiting to happen.

(via confessmessina)

I’m a disaster waitin’ to happen all on my lonesome.

[gtgrachel-blog]

codycbf :

Cody hated a lot of things. She hated her parents, and their ignorant, bigoted, close-minded, piece of shit ways. She hated her brother – except, not really, but you didn’t hear that from her – and his perfect wife, and their perfect life. She hated waking up with a fucking hangover every single morning after getting absolutely shitfaced for a solid week for Jess and Arleigh’s birthdays. But above all, she fucking hated being disturbed, and that’s what was happening now as some brain-dead moron decided to knock on hers and Kit’s apartment door.

It wasn’t even so much that she was busy, or anything. Because she really wasn’t, but she really didn’t wanna get up from the couch right now. She and Kit had, against her own better judgement, settled themselves on the couch to watch some shitty re-run of some shitty show she didn’t know the name of. And while she wasn’t too eager to admit this fact to Kit herself, she’d sorta gotten into the shitty show, and was weirdly invested in the shitty male white lead’s shitty lovelife with some equally shitty white female. Fucking heterosexuals and their shitty, annoying hit TV shows.

Kit, who was sitting beside her, a bowl of popcorn poised not-so-gracefully atop her swelling stomach, cast her a look. Not just a look, but a look. One of those looks that really sorta spoke for itself, as if the words “answer the fucking door, Tyler” were emblazoned on her forehead. Letting out an inelegant snort at the other girl, she nudged her gently, her elbow barely tipping the other girl’s arm. Cody knew she was a total dickhead with little to no tact, but she wasn’t a complete piece of shit, she wasn’t gonna be too hard on a preggo. Lifting her hand and waving it in a shooing motion, she nodded towards their apartment door.

“Pretty sure whoever’s on the other side of that door hasn’t got all day, Hudson,” she noted, before turning her attention back to the thirsty hets on the screen. They were making out, and one of them was holding a ring, so she figured that one of two things must have happened; the obvious choice, that they’d just gotten engaged, or; the not so obvious choice, but far more interesting one of the two, in which het #1 had confessed some sort of weird kink to het #2. She figured it was probably the former, but she’d have to keep watching now to find out just what was going on. Grabbing the remote to turn up the volume, she absent-mindedly clicked her fingers at her roommate, ushering for her to hurry up. “Go. Give the sprog a little exercise, or some shit.”

When Kit finally – begrudgingly – padded her way over to the door, without even a semblance of enthusiasm for whoever waited on the other side (atta girl, Hudson), Cody tried to drown out the voices coming from the hallway. Her attempts were wasted, however, as she heard an unfamiliar voice asking after. Fuck. What had she done? She had had a bit of a run in with some snooty bitch at work yesterday, but Harvey had been browsing at the time and had managed to steer the old hag away from Cody before she could deck the cunt. Fucking nerd ass cop. So, unless the miserable fucker had decided to make an appearance and rehash an argument about the price of baked beans, she had no fucking clue who was at the door, and she just hoped Kit had the common decency to tell the person that she wasn’t home.

No such luck.

“Cordelia, it’s for you,” Kit called, her voice smug. Fuck Cordelia. Never again would Cody let her guard down around her roommate again. Why the fuck she thought it was a good idea to tell her the truth about her real name, she had no idea, but she had regretted it ever since. And she hadn’t even been fucking drunk at the time. Rolling her eyes, she punched the pause button on the remote, and made her way to the front door.

“Thanks Katherine, you dick,” she muttered, glaring as her roommate made her way back to her spot on the couch. Now turning her attention to the front door, she spotted… a woman. Not the woman from the store, but not any woman she’d ever met before. She didn’t look like anyone she’d hooked up with, nor someone she wanted to hook up with. She was kinda hot, if you were into chicks who looked like they hadn’t slept in a fortnight. Not that Cody really gave a shit where, or when, or even if, the guys and girls she hooked up with had slept, but still. She looked a little more like someone who expected a fucking phonecall the next morning.

“Who’re you?” she asked, her tone blunt, her expression uncaring. “What d'you want?”

As the blonde at the door called over her shoulder, to someone who Anna presumed was Cody Tyler (Rachel had never said anything about her being a Cordelia), Anna’s eyes darted down to survey her appearance. She wasn’t sure why she was so concerned about what a teenage girl might think of her, but nevertheless, she persisted. Anna tugged anxiously at the cuffs of the tan trench coat she’d donned, before her hands quickly found their way into her hair to neaten it. She gave it a quick pat as though to confirm that yes, it was still lank and lifeless as ever, and returned her attentions to the door.

If Anna could tell anything by the short interaction between the two, she realised there seemed to be some sort of general disagreement between the two about coming to the door. Anna was very well versed at the wars between sisters, having had to tear Rachel and Hales apart many a time when Rachel had dirtied Hael’s favorite white dress, or Hael had given her a sly, cruel pinch on her way out of the door. There seemed to be a sort of sisterly camaraderie between the two, if the smug tones and cursing were anything to go by.

Anna directed a pinched, polite smile towards the pregnant girl, Katherine, and peered her head around the door in search of Cody Tyler. She’d seen pictures of her, of course, but a picture didn’t quite prepare you for the real thing. At least not in this case. Rising from her place on the couch, Cody made her way over to the door, and Anna forced her face into a blank, expressionless state. 

She’d been prepared for the shock of the blue hair. It wasn’t completely unheard of, to see a girl with vibrantly coloured hair. Still, when it was tied together with the nose ring, and the kohl eyeliner heavily rimmed around her eyes, the whole thing made quite a volatile package. Anna clipped her desire to appear shocked, or to say something rude. She’d never been as bold and outspoken as her sisters, but there was something of the Solo girl outlandishness in her. 

The corners of Anna’s mouth rose up, only to be wiped off her face at Cody’s harsh greeting. God forbid she see her little sister with a girl like this. Brody or no Brody, Anna would just have to do the sensible, brave thing and sit Rachel down, warn her off the man. It just wasn’t what was done.

“I... I’m sorry to bother y’all.” she insisted, plastering a smile on her face and getting ready to depart.

Still... the more you told Rachel not to do something, the more she wanted to covet it. And Anna remembered the wicked glint in her eyes when she’d talked about how cool Cody was, and how she’d made Anna swear on pain of death that she wouldn’t tell their Mom she skipped school with Cody. She’d had that same glint in her eyes when she’d talked about Janine, and Ruby. Neither of them had had blue hair, and it had ended in disaster all the same.

Steeling herself, she took a deep breath.

“My name’s Anna.” she started, looking sheepish. “I’m figurin’ you’re the Cody Tyler that knows my little sister, Rachel? Right?”

Pressing her lips together nervously, she searched Cody’s face for any signs of recognition.

“Can I talk to y’all about her?”

[gtgrachel-blog]

TEXT: BRODY

Rachel: Happy Birthday. Holy shit, you're old.

[gtgrachel-blog]

TEXT: CODY

Rachel: Hey, trouble. Heard it was your birthday. It's the middle of the afternoon so I'm assumin' you're thoroughly fucked up by now, but happy birthday, y'all.

[gtgrachel-blog]

Anna Solo stood barefoot in the bathroom, regarding the woman in the mirror who was frowning back at her. It was hard to connect the tired, drawn face in the mirror to her own, although she supposed she should be used to seeing her own reflection like that. It had been years since Anna hadn’t been forced to smear concealer under her eyes to disguise a bad night’s sleep, or spent hours in front of the mirror twisting her limp, blonde waves into different styles, hoping one day they would themselves spring into the vibrant curls her baby sister wore. In all honesty, Anna reluctantly blamed the decline in her physical appearence on her two sisters. If it weren’t for Rachel tugging the duvets to her side of the bed, or using her flailing limbs to deliver swift, bruising kicks to Anna’s legs during the night, maybe she’d be able to sleep. And perhaps if it weren’t for Hales keeping her up in the middle of the night, anxiously chattering to her older sister about her boyfriend troubles, Anna wouldn’t look so tired all the time.

Without these disruptions to her sleep pattern, however, Anna still doubted she’d get in the recommended seven to nine hours. The truth was, even since she’d been allocated her room within their tiny apartment - one she was able to hang paintings on the wall of, as opposed to Rachel’s Swan Lake posters - Anna still didn’t sleep much. Instead of being able to blame Rachel’s sleep talking, or Hael slipping from her bed every other hour to use the bathroom, Anna kept herself awake fretting about the wellbeing of the two. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, worrying about her sisters. It was something she’d done ever since the passing of their Father. With their Mom in no fit state to raise three young girls, consumed with grief and suddenly having to take on extra shifts just to make ends meet, Anna had taken on certain responsibilities. The teenager had learned to cook, iron, and had continually slipped Rachel and Hael money so that the two girls might be able to join in with their friends whilst Anna stayed home. Sure, now that the two girls were older she didn’t need to care for them quite so much, but uprooting the four of them to Wellington had seemed to bring with it fresh new problems.

Her biggest problem, you might say, was Brody Solo. It wasn’t that Anna had anything in particular against her cousin, but more so the effect he didn’t seem to realize he was having on Rachel. Rachel spent more than too much time in the man’s presence, inviting herself into his apartment in that loud, boisterous way only Rachel could, or showing up at his place of work to help him terrorise his co-workers. Of course, Anna didn’t doubt that this was where their time together ended. Even if Rachel wasn’t sensible, she liked to think perhaps Brody had even a smidge of common sense about him. But that didn’t put an end to how much Rachel clearly liked him in a less than platonic manner, nor did Anna think it would eventually stop her from pushing the boundaries of their relationship. It had come to be that every time Rachel mentioned Brody, no matter how casually, panicked looks were shared between Anna and Hael, and both sisters knew something needed to be done.

“Anna!” came Rachel’s voice, and Anna knew from the pounding on the door that Rachel was insistent on coming in. Heaving a sigh, Anna quickly unlocked the door, Rachel brushing past her in a flurry of blonde hair.

“Quit your hollerin’.” Anna scolded, frowning at her younger sister. Rachel seemed hardly to notice her, her eyes glued to the screen of her phone, laughing to herself. Peering over her sister’s shoulder, she realised she was scrolling through someone’s Instagram feed, picture after picture of a girl she didn’t recognise. A girl with vibrant hair, seemingly scowling into the camera. A girl with her arm thrown around a boy with dark hair, matching leather jackets. A picture of a pretty blonde, laughing, seemingly caught off guard.

“Which one’s the girl you’re jonesin’ after, again?” Anna asked, attempting to keep her voice light. Truth be told, Anna already knew a little (or a lot) more about Cody Tyler than she was willing to admit. Ever since Rachel had come home, telling animated stories about the girl she’d met at school, Anna had been not so subtly scouting the girl out. Cody Tyler, who was hot and funny ‘as fuck’, according to her little sister, lived in the building. At Anna’s words, Rachel jumped, frowning at Anna as though she’d caught her rifling through her diary.

“I’m not jonesin’ after nobody.” Rachel snapped, shoving her phone into the pocket of her jacket. “Get out of my bathroom. I gotta be at work soon.”

Holding her hands up, Anna slipped from the bathroom quietly, wincing as it slammed behind her. Rachel would be preoccupied all day, brandishing a mop and staring longingly after the ballerinas. Grabbing her satchel with one hand and her jacket with the other, Anna left the apartment without a sound. Cody being confined to the same apartment building as her certainly made her task less strenuous, and she only had to disappear a floor down.

Walking along the halls, Anna scanned the numbers emblazoned on the door until she came to the door of her choosing. Before she could second guess herself, she knocked on the door.

Hearing only a minor scuffle, the door swung open moments later, revealing the same blonde girl Anna recognised from Cody’s Instagram feed. Clad in a baggy sweater that only just concealed what appeared to be, a baby bump, she looked at Anna with a lack of familiarity. As Anna supposed she should.

“Hiya, there.” Anna greeted, smiling a little shyly. “Does a uh, Cody Tyler live here?”

[qtdaisy-blog]

S’alright babe. Don’t fink I did anyfing but make ya feel worse, though…

[gtgrachel-blog]

Ah, not at all. Takes a lot to bring me down.

[qtdaisy-blog]

Dunno. Can’t say I’ve ever looked at my cousins like that or anyfing but… No judgement babes. But find yourself someone nice, init. Like someone that’ll treat ya right and all that.

[gtgrachel-blog]

I guess. Thanks anyway, Daisy.

[qtdaisy-blog]

Still related though, babe. Bit weird, init? Just as well! I ain’t prissy. See, you ain’t all bad! You’ve got a bitta sense at least.

[gtgrachel-blog]

Is it weird? I’m not like... doing anything.

[qtdaisy-blog]

He’s your cousin?!!! Bleedin ‘eck, babe! That’s, um. Well, yeah. Maybe stick to the not-so-nice girl, init? Ah. I’m wif ya now. And, ya’know, based on your professional opinion, which one am I?

[gtgrachel-blog]

I didn’t like, grow up with him! If that’s any consolation. And I’m thinkin’ you’re maybe the former, you don’t seem too prissy.

[qtdaisy-blog]

Oh he’s a bit, uh… Well he once told me he’d fuck my dad, if that gives you an idea? And I say once, but it’s a fairly common occurrence, so… Your guy’s… What’s that, babe? Didn’t catch that? He’s your what? Ay? What’s the difference then? Educate me.

[gtgrachel-blog]

Wow, yeah. I’m startin’ to see the problem with this guy. And he’s well, like, my cousin. But uh, the difference is that girls that are nice are just you know, normal girls whose personalities don’t suck. And nice girls are borin’, prissy know-it-alls.

[qtdaisy-blog]

What? Nah! Blimey, nah. Monty and Shane are a bit too gay. Or otherwise occupied wif their besties. Either one really. And Bennett… Let’s just say if Bennett tried it wif me I’d rip his dick off. Blimey. Well I wouldn’t wanna live wif someone who might murder me, so I reckon staying at home might work for ya. Ay, I feel like I’m missing out on a big part of the story ‘ere. What’d you do that’s got ‘em so worried? And yeah! You’re well cute. Ay, i’m a girl and i’m nice! And I sure as shit ain’t boring, babe!

[gtgrachel-blog]

Bit too gay. Right, got it. And Jesus Christ - not to take the Lord’s name in vain or nothin’ but - Jesus Christ. What’s so bad about this Bennett guy? Uh, well, it’s just kinda that the guy is, like, my... So yeah. But, are you a girl that’s nice or are ya a nice girl? ‘Cause there’s a fundamental difference there, babe.

[qtdaisy-blog]

You’d better not lead ‘er astray, or I will be making complaints. Fink she could probably do that for ‘erself anyway, but she’s impossible not to love! Oh, nah. I mean, I’m trying to find someone. There’s probably a few, uh, suitors, but it’s a working progress… You ain’t got any friends? Why not, ya seem alright to me? Ay, being the baby don’t mean you ain’t responsible or anyfing. Unless you’re not? Just ‘cos you dated some twats in the past don’t make you dumb, though. That makes them dumb, init. Ay, I bet he ain’t! You’re well gorgous, ya’know! Ain’t you seen yourself? And oooh. Ya like a bit of a bad girl, yea?

[gtgrachel-blog]

Really? Aw, I think me and her will get along just fine, then. A few? Hope none of those suitors are the aforementioned chain smokin’ degenerates from your work who never do their own work. I got like, people I hang around with. But no one I’m real close to or I wouldn’t immediately murder if I had to live with, you know? Try tellin’ my Mom and my sisters that, they seem to think I can’t do shit all for myself. I mean, I’ve kept myself alive for the past couple of years, so I like to think I’m doin’ just fine. You think I’m gorgeous? And yeah, I guess. Nice girls are kinda borin’. Dated my fair share of ‘em and they didn’t work out.

[qtdaisy-blog]

Aw nice! Ya might know Eves then. Maybe not, it’s a pretty big place, but she goes there too. And yea babes, you have plenty of time to figre all that out, init! Mmhm, pretty much! I’d love a husband and a little army of kiddos, ya’know? The dream for me, ain’t gonna lie. Ay, why don’t ya move out? Find one of ya mates from Uni and room wif them? They d, but not for you? Why, ain’t good enuff? What’s the girl like? Are your sisters just, ya’know, proper protective and don’t like ya wif anyone or somefing? Nahhh, I wanna hear more! My turn to be nosy init.

[gtgrachel-blog]

I don’t think I’ve ever crossed paths with her, but I’ll give her a wave and try not to lead her astray if I ever do. So, are there any competitors to fill that role right about now? I guess I could, I’d have to get myself a friend or two first, y’know? Someone who wouldn’t mind dealin’ with me all the damn time. And yeah, you know. I’m the baby of the family, so they think I don’t know how to make a decision for myself. ‘Cause Rachel’s stupid and reckless and all her ex-girlfriends were a bit mental, or somethin’. My guy’s probably way outta my league, like he’s massively gorgeous and I kinda hate myself for bein’ so stereotypical as to like him. The girl I just met is just really fuckin’ cool, like she just doesn’t give a shit. She’s just real fun and kinda wild.

[qtdaisy-blog]

Fair enuff, I s’pose. I mean, it’s way cuter than it sounds, and like there’s loadsa other way cuter ones! But nah, I ain’t. I just like my job, init. What ‘bout you, what do you do? Aw that’s good! That’s well exciting. I deffo wanna have kids some day, and Eves - my sister - would make, like, the best aunt ever, it’d be way cute. I’m well excited for that to happen. Ya don’t wanna be an aunt? You not a fan of kids or somefing? Aw yea, but maybe he’s like… The Joanna to your Sam, init! She didn’t know Sam liked her but they ended up happy eventually…

[gtgrachel-blog]

I’m studentin’ it up myself at Victoria. Kinda undeclared at the moment, but that’s alright. I’ll figure out what I wanna do sooner or later. You wanna settle down and have a great big nuclear family then, huh? It ain’t all it’s cracked up to me. I don’t mind little ones, like, I ain’t brilliant with them, but apartment’s getting kinda crowded without adding a shrieking baby in there. And maybe. My sisters don’t really like him. I mean, they do. But you know, not for me. I met this girl the other day, too. She’s kinda cool. But I doubt my sisters would approve of her anymore they do of him. Anyway, enough about my nonexistent love life.

[qtdaisy-blog]

What’s wrong wif chick flicks? Oh well Keira’s married to Andrew’s best friend so it’s a bit awks but he does this cute cue card fing and she kisses him even though her hubby’s inside so it’s a bit weird but I swear it’s well cute! And Sam and the girl, Johanna, kiss at the airport and then she comes back from America - which is where she’s going, init - and they reunite and… Oh yeah, good point! Just watch the movie, it’s well good. Aw nah, I like working there. I mean, it can be gross, but it’s nice helping people ya’know? Bloody ‘ell, that is a right scar, init! She’s keeping up wif ‘er appointments and stuff though yeah? Taking care of the baby? Even if she ain’t taking care of you… Yeah, exactly. Blokes are awful. And a bit bleedin’ rude. ‘Ang on… Are you speaking from personal experience? ‘Cos i’m all ears if you are….

[gtgrachel-blog]

Nothin’ I guess, just wouldn’t be my first choice. And yeah, you’re right. That does sound more weird than cute and Keira sounds like she needs to get her shit together. I dunno, maybe I’ll watch it sometime. Tell y’all what I think and stuff. Aw, well aren’t you just the patron saint of goodness and kindness and all that jazz? And yeah, it’s huge. I’m kinda weirdly proud of it. And aw, yeah. Even though she’s a pain she’s real excited about poppin’ her sprog out, takes my Momma to all the appointments, they all come back in tears. Keeps askin’ me if I’m excited to be an aunt, although bein’ an aunt doesn’t sound like too much fun to me. And yeah, just a bit of personal experience. But who hasn’t liked someone who doesn’t like them back, right? He doesn’t even know, so we can’t blame the poor guy.