Featuring older!Wally and Bruce who lost everything
________
Seeing Batman („Bruce“) sitting with them at their crisis table made Wally feel like 15 again. Like 18. Like 21.
His memory had never been spotty but seeing this version (younger! and wasn’t that as sight to behold too) let vivid memories come to the forefront of his mind.
He was listening, of course he was. There would never be a time where Wally would not take this seriously but even so. He had time. Every moment, every second he could afford to let his thoughts go somewhere else.
Back to when he took up the mantle of Flash. When he was young and brave (and so stupid, not that much changed if anyone were to ask him) and thought that Batman was the coolest hero (beside his own uncle) ever.
A blink, and he was older. Still young but at home within the bright red suit, capable enough that he had the honor to work together with Batman. Even now, no matter how trivial some of these cases had been, Wally still thought fondly of the man that Batman had been. Strict but kind in the way he took control.
Not many saw it that way, not now or back then, but Wally knew. Wally had seen that kindness and had kept it close to his heart too.
Another blink and Batman had been gone. Sacrificed for the greater good so that Earth my have another turn around the sun. Even now, so many years later, people spoke of Batman with honor and awe. With gratitude and fear of someone who was bigger than life.
Life had never been so difficult after Batman had been gone.
There had been many regrets from many people. Many things Wally never voiced for years (later, he would talk about these things with J’onn, but the regret was still there. Settled but never gone). But life had gone on.
The League had continued, had evolved (would Batman be proud of with how they handled things?), they all had. No one had ever replaced Batman in his chair. Sure, they had had many people briefly sit in it, consult with them, but no one stayed. Not that they wanted anyone to.
They had many allies now, many people who helped them make the world a better place but no one would ever dare to step into Batman’s place.
And now Batman was back and Wally didn’t feel like the man he had become. He felt like he was 21 again. His heart in his throat and his tongue tied in ways that made his throat ache.
The reason why Bruce was here was noble. Tragic. Again, so much lost and even then, Bruce went on and tried to do more. It was so endearing.
Wally blinked once more and a few of them stood up. He looked up at them before following suit and stood up, his eyes moving back to Bruce as if he was a magnet.
He liked to call himself stupid sometimes, a fool even but life had taught him well. Many lessons had been had which made him come to only one conclusion: to not be stupid for once in his life. There was nothing here to gain. Nothing positive anyway.
This was strictly business.
“Flash,” the deep voice sounded almost the same (he still remembered, after all these years).
“Wally,” he corrected easily, without effort as he turned to Bruce, an easy smile on his face despite his chest feeling like it was going to implode. Business.
“Wally,” young Bruce echoed, his face already painted by so much grief and pain that it would have been difficult to look at the man (not for Wally, never for him. He’d preach about Batman’s legacy until his last breath). “Do you have a moment?”
At the end of the day, Wally would always be stupid.
i loved your post about vash and reader’s stretch marks. i was wondering if you could write something where the reader is afraid of getting fat, so she skips meals or replaces them with water?
Missed Meals
Summary: Vash notices a change in his companion's behavior. Worried, he decides to confront her.
Authors Note: I'm glad you liked my other post! I hope you like this one as well (though I'm a little nervous because I got stuck writing this and I'm afraid it came out bad). Also, just want to add, I've struggled with eating disorders before (not from self-image but more like Vash's "I don't deserve to eat") so I understand. Everyone is beautiful in their own right and deserves to eat!!! Love all of you guys!!
Warnings: Self-hate, eating disorder.
It started off small; giving her bread to Milly instead of finishing it off, ordering a lighter meal instead of the usual hardy one she adored, and sometimes she simply said, “I’m not that hungry”. But actions like hers always lead to a slippery slope, one that tends to wrap its dirt-crusted nails around its victim and drag them into an early grave. She had never been someone who ate enough to feed an entire village, but not even she could survive on sips of water and the guilty crumbs she rarely allowed herself to consume. After a while though, it became natural, second nature to head off to bed while the sun still hung in the sky, claiming that exhaustion outweighed her hunger—which, she supposed, wasn’t all a lie.
The best lie, she had been told once, is the one that includes the truth.
Now, she recalled that advice as she sat at a table in the back of this dingy town bar. What should she say? What could she say? Recently she had been using up all her excuses left and right, the hunger in her belly growing and the pain in her heart becoming ever more sharp. The group had decided to stop by a local bar before heading to the hotel for the night, nearly everyone complaining about the rough day that had been forced to suffer through. And, to them, a drink was something they were eager to welcome. She, if she hadn’t been too preoccupied with her stomach pains, probably would’ve ordered a whiskey to clear her head of every annoying little thought.
She opted for water though. The least she could do was drink water; she owed it to herself, and so she honored that obligation. Throat parched, mouth achy; the water tasted amazing.
The bar erupted in a shout as someone tripped, roaring laughter drowning out the domestic conversation of her table. Too loud. Vaguely she heard someone mention dinner—she cringed. She did promise herself that she’d finally eat a crumb or a bite tonight (after nearly passing out yesterday she became all too aware of her weakness). She wasn’t dumb, she knew she’d have to eat eventually, that she’d wither away—but one more night, one more meal skipped, it couldn’t do any more harm, right? Besides, from what she had seen on the menu, the foods were all greasy, full of fat and carbs, and wouldn’t help her figure at all.
I just want to look pretty, she reasoned, skipping a meal tonight will help that. God forbid she ate too much and all her progress disappeared: letting that baby fat back under her chin, the muffin-top around her waist, or even the extra flesh on her belly? She’d rather die than let her body look like that again, much less look worse. It terrified her to her core. She needed to look good, and that meant, to her at least, that she must be skinny, thin, and agreeable. Starvation is a small price to pay for beauty.
A waiter slowly started to make their way across the room, eyes set on her table.
I need to go.
She stood up, giving a small smile, “I’m gonna head back to the hotel.”
“You’re leaving already Miss?” Milly asked, “it’s still early enough for one drink! C’mon!” She raised her glass and grinned, “look! Mr. Wolfwood and Mr. Vash are already enjoying themselves!”
Drunken giggles erupted across the table.
“Oh Milly,” Meryl sighed, “let the girl get her rest. God knows we all need it.” She waved her hand with the flick of her wrist, “if it wasn’t for the trouble you’re all bound to cause, I would’ve already left myself.”
“Hey!” Wolfwood barked out, “we’ve never caused trouble a day in our lives. . . well, can’t say much for Needle-noggin’ here.”
“It’s not my fault!” Vash cried, “trouble finds me! I always run away from it!” He sobbed into the table, “can’t a man catch a break?!”
Wolfwood laughed and patted him on the back, “it’s all God’s plan, my friend.”
“Well he sure does have a stupid plan!”
With a smile and silent wave, she slipped out from the table and weaved through the bar, the happy expression quickly falling off her face. I’m tired, she thought to herself, ignoring the biting air of the night. A dull ache in the pit of her belly made her stop for a moment, really tired. . .
She barely remembers getting back to the hotel, much less how she managed to get dressed and settled in bed before that wretched knocking woke her up. With a skip of her heart and a rapid smack of her arms to get the blankets off her cold body, she jumped out of bed and reached for the gun she had tossed on the floor. One smooth movement and she delicately wrapped her fingers around the metal. She didn’t even think about the possibility of her friends needing help, or perhaps just room service making their rounds; the only thing on her mind was the fact that she wasn’t prepared to die that night.
“Who’s there?” she grumbled out, ducking to hide beside the door, back to the wall. She rubbed lazy circles into the metal, finger twitching every so slightly over the trigger. She had never been the greatest shot, nor the most eager to kill, but she would do what had to be done if it came down to it.
“Vash.”
She blinked, sleep-clogged mind getting dunked into a vat of mean, old reality. Her situation hit her upside the head and she resisted the urge to put her face between her knees and groan about how dumb she is. Instead of wallowing in her stupidity (which, if you really think about it, wasn’t the worst reaction she could’ve had), she sighed, “oh.” A spike of relief shot through her like a summer’s breeze on a warm day. Shoulders relaxing and muscles begging to be sent back to bed. . . only, she wasn’t tired anymore. I’m not sleeping tonight, am I? Her heart still beat like a drum, thumping in her chest like no tomorrow, and her body—taunt and tense, ready for a moment's attack; that’s how she’s survived this long, by being prepared for every situation no matter the outcome.
“Can uh. . . can I come in?” Squeaked out Vash.
She cursed and opened the door, wooden creaking echoing throughout the hotel hallway, letting her occupied hand hang by her side, “yeah, sorry. What’s the matter?”
Vash stood in his usual clothes—red coat, ridiculous pants, and bulky boots; his gloves though, she noticed, he wasn’t wearing gloves. He gave her a small smile, “sorry did I scare ya?”
The smile made her less mad about the ordeal, kind and small. He never smiled too widely or genuinely, just enough to show that he cared, that he knew what happiness looked like—though she knew that he thought he’d never be able to obtain happiness, a faraway dream is how he described it to be. Oh, how if given the chance, she would give him all the joy he would ever want.
She shoved that thought aside.
“A little,” she raised the gun and gestured with it for Vash to come inside. “Why are you up so late?”
He slid into the room silently, walking over to sit on the edge of her bed, “couldn’t sleep.” he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.
That was a lie. She could tell. “Want to talk?” She locked the door and once again tossed her gun next to her bed, hoping it wouldn’t go off from the rough handling. “Or jus’ need someone here?”
“Just talking, if you don’t mind.”
She nodded, “a’right. How was your day?”
He smiled, “good. You?”
“Peachy.”
The conversation died off.
Neither of them really knew what to say—unspoken words disease the heart and kill the soul, making the tongue bloated and thick. She, not knowing how to comfort her friend as her mind wandered from her own problems to the world’s in general, and he wasn’t sure how to get his point across.
Silence.
Vash cleared his throat, finally collecting his words, “are you. . . okay?” The question hung in the air sourly, sucking any sense of comfort out and churning it into an uninhabitable room of misery. He flinched, as if the mood of the room was hurting him physically. “You’ve been acting a little different lately.”
She leaned against the door, hoping the action would give her the confidence to either run away or admit her inner-thoughts.“Hmm? Fine, you?” She turned her gaze away. Could she run? No, he’d catch her in less than three seconds and her trying to slip out of the room would be an admission of her guilt. But she really didn’t want to talk about herself. She’s doing okay, isn’t she? Just a little tired, anxious, and sad. . . but she’ll get over it. Besides, it’s not like she’s dead yet.
“I’m good.”
“Good.”
Oh how painfully awkward this all was.
The bed squeaked as he moved to get into a more comfortable position, “I have some leftovers in my room, from dinner, if you want any.” He tapped his leg with his fingers, head angled slightly to watch her expression.
He knows.
Those eyes, no matter how much of a kind smile or goofy aura he carefully crafted to show everyone, his eyes gave away every part of his secret-self. The part of him that was scarily intelligent, observant, and abnormally calculating—a man smart enough to play dumb and a man strong enough to be kind. That part of him is what interested her so, the gravity that pulled her attention to him everytime he entered a room.
He knows.
With a defeated sigh she rubbed her shoulder and walked over to the bed, shoving herself behind him to lay back down. If she had to bare her soul to him, the least he could allow her to do was to be vulnerable while being comfortable. He moved slightly to allow her more room, facing away from her as if her very gaze would burn him. “I’m not hungry,” she gave one last effort to cover her lie, to toss her truth out the window in the hopes that it would be buried in the sand.
“You said that yesterday too.” He stared across the room, back rigid.
The sands never work in your favor.
“Huh,” she faced the wall, “guess I did.” The blankets were scratchy, old, and ratty, but she pulled them up to her chin nonetheless. She was tired now. All her adrenaline had poured out of her mouth, dripping onto the creaky wooden floor, seeping into the ground beneath.
“And the day before.”
“Are you sure?”
“Very.”
She closed her eyes, knowing she had finally been caught in her web of little half-truths. “Haven’t had the stomach to eat anything lately.” Perhaps she could escape this somehow—even though she knew it was futile, part of her accepting the fact that he wouldn’t let this go—, make him run away and stop caring, God that caring! It annoyed her to ends she had never seen before, yet she loved it so. If only he didn’t care, she clenched her fist into the blanket, then this wouldn’t have happened. And it’s not like she’s dying! Nor is she killing herself or drawing blood, she’s only skipping a meal every once in a while.
“I don’t. . .,” Vash trailed off locking his fingers together, “I don’t mean to pry, but you’re starving yourself.” He sat the words quickly, sharply, and promptly, as if he was afraid of them and needed to throw them out of his mouth as soon as possible.
All lies come to an end.
“I know.”
But wouldn’t it be nice if they could live forever?
He bit his lip. “Why?”
“You’re prying,” she snapped.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
The conversation died off.
She didn’t mean to sound so rough and uncaring—the opposite of that gentleman—but a fear had struck her heart and she couldn’t stop it. The only way to feel okay, to be okay, was if Vash stopped caring, stopped worrying, and walked out of the room without a second glance (no matter how much that would hurt). Only he had the power to alleviate this anxious pain but she knew she would never allow her to wallow in misery alone.
What did Wolfwood say? She thought to herself, misery enjoys company?
The air turned from sour to stiff, oppressing; like a hand had come to clasp her throat, fingers digging into flesh and muscles spasming as they tried to escape the hold, only it was fruitless.
“Sometimes,” Vash’s voice cut through the air, peeling the layers of devilish emotions back. Slowly he shuffled down to lay next to her, on his back, hands laced over his chest. “I feel like I don’t deserve to eat. . . how can I allow myself to eat when I know how the people I failed, the people I let die, will never be able to enjoy things like that again? And, really, I think part of me hopes I’ll die from starvation, so I can take an easy way out.” He paused and let out a shuddering sigh.
She didn’t move.
“I don’t know why you’re doing this, and you don’t have to tell me, but I understand in part. And if you ever need anything, I’m here. Okay?”
Why did he have to be like this? Why did he have to care? And why did she want to accept it so damn bad? If he had never noticed, if he had never looked at her with those eyes, if he had never met her—then she’d be living in her little palace of warped perception like a Queen of nothing but barren hearts. A ruler of her own land, a lawmaker who bows to no one; only this man had come into her secluded little kingdom, raided the halls of the castle, and whisked her away to feel the sun. It hurt her. To know how delicious the outside tasted, yet know how her soul felt safer within her prison.
“Do you think,” the words died in her tongue, nervousness making her numb. To hell with it, he already figured it out. Might as well bite the bullet.“ That I look pretty?” she whispered.
Silence.
Oh, that was a mistake, wasn’t it? The silence hurt in her ways that she didn’t even know could hurt.
Vash choked on his own spit and coughed, “w-what?”
Suddenly she wished the silence was still there.
Of course he’d have a reaction like that! She’s ugly, big, and broken. Why did she think it’s run out any different? “Nevermind.” She buried her face into the blanket, biting back a rumble of sobs in her throat; eyes stinging gently.
“No! No! You—you just caught me off guard! I think you’re beautiful, really.” He turned over frantically, hand awkwardly hovering over her shoulder as he talked into her neck.
“You wouldn’t think the same way if I was bigger,” she curled into herself, “if I was fatter.” She aggressively wiped her tears away, “and skipping a couple meals isn’t too bad if it’s for a good reason, you know?” She wasn’t sure if she was believing herself at this point.
He was silent.
“No matter what,” he twiddled his thumbs, ears turning red, “I think you’d still be beautiful. If you were taller, shorter, thinner, bigger, only had one leg or, um, like lost both eyes or something—” he heard her lowly whisper an audible “what?”, “I’d still think you’d look amazing. And, if anyone says otherwise, they don’t deserve you.” He hesitantly set a hand on her shoulder, rubbing comforting circles, “no matter what, I still cherish you.”
Her voice cracked, “thank you Vash.” His words didn’t convince her entirely, but still, they were nice to hear.
He hummed. “I know my words aren’t going to fix everything, but we can start here, if you want?”
She let out a bubbling sigh, trying desperately to keep her tears away in order not to embarrass herself further. “I'm scared.”
“That’s okay, I get scared all the time. I’ll be right here for you, the whole way.”
This is post Kev and V’s move to Kentucky- they’re back in Chicago visiting the Gallaghers and helping Carl finalize the Alibi sales and renovation
They’re back in town for a few days and Kev decides that they need a guys night so he, Lip, Mickey, Ian and Carl go to a cubs game (Liam was invited but respectfully declines)
They all cram in the ambulance, carl reminding them about the legality of the situation
They decide to tailgate before, hanging out behind the ambulance in the parking lot with beers
Kev brings a shit load of alcohol, he’s been missing bartending for his friends aw
Ian’s usually careful about his alcohol consumption bc his meds make him a big old lightweight (me too Ian) but Kev’s here and its exciting and carl keeps getting everyone to take shots and by the time they start walking to the stadium he’s delightfully tipsy
Lip’s rolling his eyes at his giggly younger brother, grumbling about having to DD
Tipsy Ian fucking with carl, putting him into chokeholds and picking him up and just thinking its the funniest thing ever
Mickey is so fond
Halfway through the game Mickey steals carl’s baseball cap off his head and shoves it onto Ian’s head- “You’re gonna fucking burn man”
On the way home, Ian is DRUNK- Kev just kept coming back with more rounds and everyone else (except lip duh) is just happy and buzzed but Ian tried to keep up
He’s smiling so wide, freckles really popping in the summer sun
Absolutely clinging to mickey, keeps putting his arm around his shoulders and grabbing his hands and arms
Ian links his arm through mickeys on the way home and everyone expects mickey to pull away but he just smiles at Ian and they fall behind the rest of the guys, in their own little bubble
Ian gets progressively more handsy as time goes on, by the time they get back to the car he’s got his hand in mickey’s back pocket and keeps kissing him
Carl and lip keep telling them to chill with the pda
Getting drunk Ian back in the ambulance is a chore- he wants to keep the party going and is super investing in flirting with Mikey
Keeps trying to distract mickey with kisses and dirty talk “lets go out mick, don’t wanna go home… want you so bad” and eventually mickey leans into it, flirting back- “oh yeah big guy? and what are you gonna do about it?” and stuns Ian into silence, taking the opportunity to shove him in the car
carl: “how do people stay married? don’t you get tired of each other?” Ian (drunk): “dude we’re best friends… who fuck. Who’d get tired of that? Right mick?” Mickey: “fuck yeah man, marriage is the shit”
Kev can go back into his gallavich wedding speech about being gay being fun bc you bang and make sandwiches
I really want to like Kookie but he is SO disrespectful! He doesn't treat his hyungs with respect at all and everyone just makes light of it? Especially with Jin, he should not be talking about being scared to be hit by Kookie, he should give way to Jin and all his hyungs at all times. People just excuse it because he's cute, but really Kookie really needs to be put in his place! How he acts towards his hyungs is proper behavior at all.
hi anon though I think you’re not alone in your views, I seriously think you’re just misinterpreting kookie.
first of all we don’t actually see what they do most of the time. even though we’re spoiled we only probably see only like 5% of their lives and it’s a bit unfair to judge jungkook by what little time you glimpse of their interaction.
second, do you really think the hyungs would just let jungkook be disrespectful!?! there’s nooooo way they’d let him. he’s just being playful, he’s still a little kid inside. and I think off cam or when the hyungs reall need him, he’s a really good maknae to them.
third, he works really hard for bangtan and as the maknae and one of the lead vocals that’s a lot of pressure. Not to mention he’s dance line as well. So when they do interviews or they’re not working on stage, it’s when he can just be his playful self and that’s what often that you see.
lastly, when Jin mentions being hit it’s all just playful banter and they all know it’s jungkook’s personality to be like that.They know he’s just being his baby self. Even Mr. Son mentioned that Jungkook is still the same kid he met before debut, he just grew muscles but he’s still pretty much the same kid. if he’s really too much I’m sure one of the hyungs would talk to him about it and make him stop. But you can also clearly see they all adore him a lot too so I think Jungkook stops when he has to and I really think he’s not out of line.
You don’t have to like Jungkook anon don’t worry. But I hope you don’t hate him.... ^_^ You should give him a chance, he’s just being his baby bun self.
Sometimes I’ll see something on tv or on the internet and be able to connect it to something I already know. Like today I saw a rusty metal cart outside a shop in asia displaying something and I got happy knowing that I could accurately guess what the rusted metal and flaking paint would feel like against my skin. I hate when people say they feel “connected to the world”. It sounds intentionally vague and annoying but I guess I know what they mean..
One time Jessica's mother had always told her, "Give yourself twenty-four hours before making a decision that could be life-changing." Jessica had given herself forty-eight. And with these forty-eight hours, she came up with a decision she knew she'd regret in time, but it was what was best. With the current events in the girl's light nothing seemed like it was right, and as much as she didn't want to repeat the past and just become another memory, it's what she had to do. Wiping her blurry eyes, she picked up a pen and paper sitting at her desk for a few moments trying to piece her mind together. Finally, she put the pen on the paper, and the words began to write themselves.
Dear Charlie,
I hardly know where to begin with this. People always tell you "Don't live in the past" or "What's in the past is in the past, move on" but it seems that's all everything ties back to for us. Me leaving. See the thing is, I was hurting. Rather than bringing you down in pain with me, I decided leaving was the best. I was never smart with decision making, I acted in the moment and thought about consequences when the damage was done. I didn’t think leaving actually hurt you, I figured you’d learn to forget me and probably wouldn't even remember me unless I actually explained who I was. Unfortunately, I was wrong, I wasn’t just a memory and I learned this with my return. Charlie, I still never forgave myself for leaving you, and never will, it’s one of those things that dies when I die. I know you’re wonderful why is she writing this letter, I thought things were on a clean slate with us, we’ve turned the pages and began a new chapter? But that’s the thing. Part of one chapter may be being repeated as you’re reading this. I’m leaving. Again.
It’s breaking my heart to say this, after we’ve spent so much time mending our relationship and taking things “one step at a time”, but the pain has become too much. I love you, and always will, and that’s the thing. I left loving you, and came back loving you. I left, you loved others, and I come back and what now? I’m confused, hurting, and honestly a little bit humiliated to know that it wasn’t going to be a happy ending, and my father even told me that. With Rose gone, it was all a blur, Chapter one of The Downfall of Charlie and Jessica repeated all over again.
I know you need me, and trust me, I need you. But I see her too much in your eyes, that it’s eating me alive to be near you. I didn’t care about the other woman you loved (or love), because in the end it was up to you who made the decision. It felt like The Bachelor with you, that everything you told me was just what you were feeling in the moment, but not as genuine as you were making it sound. I spent nights, crying over if we’d ever be the way we were, but after you told me what happened since I left I realized I had it easy. I spent my days back at home, coping, and trying to make it. You spent them in pain. As much I want to be there for you and make it until you’ve reached a level of happiness to where you’re on cloud nine, I need to help myself first. So instead of leaving you once again but without notice, I’m leaving you this. A somewhat short letter telling you I need to find myself again. Alone.
You WILL be victorious in whatever you do, I will still follow your career as I have in the past, there will always be a special place in my heart for you because you are my first love, and no matter if I ever do fall for someone else, I still get the chance to say that you ARE my first love, not were. All my life I’ve put others before me, and it’s making me go crazy, I need to start being a little selfish if that makes sense? I’m not saying leaving is the only way out, but you got along okay without me, though things weren’t perfect, you got along. I’m just in no position to help you or anyone at the moment. And let’s face it, I don’t fit in here, you’ve been one of the only people that has understood me, I’m barely doing my work because I’m so depressed, and it’s too big of a place for me.
I wish you the best, and I hope to find someone like you in the future, though that’ll just be an unrealistic hope because there is no one else like you Charles Elijah Aulette. It’s like Fitzgerald once wrote, “The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.” I want to do something about my life rather than just do something and be upset all the time. I want to go out and find my happiness, and it’s not here. My heart will be wherever you are, but my happiness is somewhere else I’ve yet to find. Until I find it, I need go my own way. Please stay strong for me, and always know that I love you, and believe in you.
Yours Truly,
Ps: When you’re reading this, I’ll probably be at the airport by now. I’ve left my apartment and things, so I won’t be there.
Jessica kissed the note right under her signature, and set it on top of her suitcase to drop off Charlie’s on her way to the airport, some words were blurry due to some tears that fell as she wrote, but it was legible. She looked at her apartment, half furnished. “So long New York.” She weakly grinned before heading out to the prompt taxi she had called earlier. It was a short time here, but she did make it a long way.
it is 1:18, and again I can't sleep. every time I make a text post like this, I can never sleep! need to gain energy for tomorrow or should I say later today. ugh, I really don't want to go to school. annoying people I don't want to see, people I despise, people I don't like, and everybody there that I don't talk to. well this weekend was kinda okay. all I mostly did was sleep, and I can't complain cause I fucking love to sleep! I also dyed my hair. it's a red purple color, and it looks really pretty. that's pretty much it. I watched movies and ate like a fat ass as always. well I guess I try to go to sleep. I'm kinda tired but not so much. I hope my followers have a good rest of the night/morning and a lovely rest if the day! <3
