#Mr. Faist could never do anything wrong

[cinnamon-stccs]

Back in my hating DEH phase. Fucking hate that show and its message.

I feel like so many Dear Evan Hansen enjoyers like the show because of its music and its actors and the one gripe they usually choose with DEH critics is that they aren’t taking the story seriously. As if the only gripe with the show is “Evan Hansen impersonated a suicide victim so he could bone Connors sister”. But that’s not necessarily the problem. The problem is that Evan doesn’t get any backlash from the Murphys. Not really. And you can argue that forgiveness is important to the story but forgiveness is a choice. And Evan didn’t deserve forgiveness because what he did was awful and really fucking bad- and it doesn’t matter that he’s mentally ill. Being mentally ill doesn’t excuse you from responsibility. That’s why being mentally ill sucks.

And I feel like the show only works for people who aren’t chronically mentally ill- because it doesn’t accurately portray someone who is chronically mentally ill. We know that Evan Hansen is supposed to have GAD and because of that, depression. But why would that make him delusional? It wouldn’t. Evan knows he’s lying and feels bad about it but is so attached to the idea of having friends that he doesn’t want to give it up because he’s getting attention from lying. There are so many better ways for Evan to help his mental health that would not involve ruining his own life or destroying other peoples trust or turning literally “the internet” against the Murphys.

And it’s SO INFURIATING that the same year Evan Hansen SWEEPED the Tonys for its shitty gospel-esque church music and horrid portrayals of the mentally ill- Bandstand by Richard Orebacker, starring Corey Cott and Laura Osnes- a story that aptly portrays not only Anxiety and Depression but PTSD, Good and accurate portrayals of OCD, ADHD, Autism, and chronic pain. It had phenomenal choreography, true-to-form Gershwin inspired tracks and a unique perspective on Greif and DEH still left with 6 awards and bandstand left with 1

[maybeforforeverwillbeouralways]

Soulmate - Michael Lee Brown x reader

The first time you saw the writing on your arm, you were ten. You knew what it was, of course. Mandy and Brian had found out their writing matched last week and you’d had a lesson in class about what the writing meant, but your mother had told you about soulmates years ago. At the time, it excited you. A person out there who existed just to be with you! But now, looking at the writing that had appeared on your arm, you felt nervous.

Hi. That was all it said, but it definitely wasn’t your handwriting. You stared at it for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to respond. Finally, before you could lose your nerve, you grabbed a sharpie out of your pencil pouch and scribbled something in response.

Hey! I’m (y/n)!

Almost immediately you received a response. I’m Michael.

You tried to think of a question to ask Michael. The way soulmates worked, you knew that any attempts to learn where he lived or how old he was would blur out and be unreadable. Unfortunately, those were the two questions that were buzzing through your mind. Finally you wrote, Do you like superheros?

After that day, you and Michael wrote all the time. You began carrying around a thing of makeup wipes so that you could wipe your arm off when you ran out of room to write. You learned everything you could about your soulmate. He was your best friend, your confidant.

When you were sixteen you remember Michael telling you he’d gotten a job with a professional theater, something that he’d been wanting for awhile now. You were excited for him; why wouldn’t you be? But it was then that the pieces began to fall into place.   

You were a fan of Dear Evan Hansen before it hit the mainstream. You loved the cast, both the regulars and the understudies. With so many men named Michael in the cast though, it was only natural that your friends made jokes about it.

“But imagine,” teased your friend Caitlyn, “Your soulmate could be Mike Faist or Michael Lee Brown!”

“Or it could be Michael Park,” added your other friend Anna. “I never pictured you as having a thing for older men, but -”

“Shut up!” you groaned. “Please, do not put that image in my head.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Anna smirked triumphantly. “You’re the one who extrapolated -”

“Stop!”

But that conversation got you thinking. What if you were lucky enough to have one of the DEH cast as your soulmate? You tried to find out from Michael.

What show did you say you were doing? You asked.

I can’t write the title, it’s blurring out, he responded a few minutes later. But it’s about a boy who commits suicide and how it impacts the people around him.

Your heart jumped. And you’re an understudy, right?

Yeah! Why?

No reason. You replied. Just curious.

Ok. How was today? You had that job interview right?

Yeah. Funny enough, my interviewer’s name was Michael.

Lol. Did you ask him?

You and Michael had worked out a code phrase to use if you ever stumbled across people with your names. It was something only the two of you would recognize, and that way you didn’t have to deal with awkwardly asking people what their soulmate’s name was.

Nah. He was way too boring to ever be you.

Aww, babe.

After that conversation, it only solidified the idea in your head that your Michael was in Dear Evan Hansen. Specifically, that your Michael was Michael Lee Brown. But you weren’t positive until one day when he wrote to you excitedly.

(y/n)! Guess what?

You were eighteen now, and sitting in your English class. You peered up at the teacher to make sure she wasn’t watching, then pulled out a sharpie and began to scribble on your arm.

What?

They just told me that since the lead actor of the show I’m in has been having vocal problems, I’m going to get to perform the role twice a week!

Michael, that’s fantastic! I’m so proud of you, you deserve this!

“(y/n)!” said your teacher. You looked up guiltily. “What have I said about writing to your soulmate in class?”

“Sorry, Mrs. P,” you said apologetically, scribbling a quick gtg class on your arm, before capping the pen and sliding it back into your backpack.

When you got home from school that day you frantically began to check tumblr to see if there was any news about MIchael Lee Brown getting to perform  regularly in DEH. Sure enough, someone on your dash had reblogged an article about it.

Without a thought, you pulled up the Dear Evan Hansen website and purchased a ticket to the matinee. You didn’t even tell your parents, you were so eager to buy the ticket. Besides, you lived an hour from New York by train, your ticket was for a Saturday, and you were a legal adult. There wasn’t much they could do to stop you.

The day of the show you were practically vibrating with nervous energy. This was it. This was the day you’d meet your soulmate. You’d even worked out the perfect way to do it, that would result in minimal embarrassment if you were wrong.

A few weeks ago you written to Michael asking him what his ideal gift from you would be.

Why? He asked.

Idk, I was just wondering.

Honestly, you’re the best gift I could ever get :)

Michael!

As soon as he told you you bought his gift. On the day of, you packed it neatly in a bag and slid a letter in with it. The letter said two things: your name, and the phrase you two had come up with.

As soon as he appeared onstage you knew. You were sitting in the mezzanine, close enough to make out all of his facial expressions. From the moment he started talking it was like something in you clicked into place. Any doubts you’d had about Michael being your soulmate evaporated.

After the show you hurried to the stage door and fought your way to the front. Grabbing the attention of the stage door manager, you handed him the gift bag. “Can you give this to Michael Lee Brown? Tell him it’s from (y/n).”

When the door closed behind him, you began to nervously fiddle with your fingers. What if Michael didn’t read it right away? What if he read it, but thought you’d already left and didn’t come out? You were prepared to wait until after tonight’s performance if you had to, but you’d rather not.

Fortunately, you didn’t have to wait long. Not five minutes later, the stage door suddenly burst open and Michael darted out, looking around frantically. Then he locked eyes with you. You grinned hopefully, and stretched out your hand. He beamed, and bounded across the short distance to you, throwing his arms around you. “(y/n), oh my god…” he whispered into your hair.

You squeezed him back just as tightly. “Michael, I…” You were at a loss for words.

He pulled back and yanked up his sleeve, revealing where you had written Good luck! that morning. You did the same, baring the matching writing. You heard people around you gasp as they realized what was going on, but you didn’t care. You only had eyes for Michael, who’s eyes were glistening as he stared at you like you were the only thing in the world. He reached out reverently and cradled the side of your face in his palm. “You came and saw the show?” he asked quietly. When you nodded, he grinned bashfully. “How was I?”

“Wonderful, of course,” you replied, reaching out to entwine his other hand with yours. “But did you really expect me to think anything else?”

He let out a wet chuckle and then pulled you to him and kissed you. “I love you,” he whispered in between kisses. “I love you, I love you.”

You kissed him one more time and smiled. “I love you too.”

[sincerely-mike-faist-blog]

Safe Haven (Mike Faist x Reader Imagine)

a/n: i am writing this while listening to say you wont let go so if I get sappy and stuff please forgive me

requested: yes

prompt: Can I get a Mike Faist x Reader where the reader is like super insecure and Mike helps the reader and is like complimenting them and all and it’s really fluffy and cute and sad kinda but fluffy af plz

the answer is yes

(im making this like a high school mike au don’t kill me)

————————————————

you weren’t a loser at school. but you weren’t popular. you were kind of just, there.

you have friends, you have a best friend, but there aren’t a lot of people you really trust, except her.

then there was mike, he wasn’t popular either. you always saw him hanging out with his group of friends, they sort of intimidated you.

you had your days, where you just felt like it wouldn’t really matter if you didn’t show up at school, of even if you came home. no one would really notice, would they?

you never really made eye contact with people, because you didn’t know if they could tell how you really felt by the look in your eyes.

you didn’t really talk about your feelings with anyone except your best friend, and usually she would just tell you to take a deep breath and get through it.

you understand she’s trying to help, but it’s not really what you wanted to hear.

you had your books in your hand, you walked by the band room, you peeked in the window, seeing mike holding a guitar, you listened.

he was playing and singing a song by dodie clark.

“there will be a day when you can say you’re okay and mean it..”

you sort of dozed off listening to him sing one of your favorite artists.

before you knew it, a tall boy with long hair was opening the door.

“Oh- Hello.” You looked up quickly and instantly looked away. “I’m- I’m sorry I was just um- oh I have to get to physics!”

You turned away quickly, not even realizing you dropped your journal.

“Um- excuse me, y/n! You dropped your journal-” He picked it up and opened the first page.

it was the journal you write in when you feel a panic attack coming on. writing down how you feel is the only way you know how to ground yourself.

you practically ran to physics, sitting your desk, shaking your leg.

at the end of the day, you went to your locker and quickly packed your things.

you heard a voice as you cooked your locker. “y/n, are you okay?”

you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “Um- yes, uh, why wouldn’t I be?”

he held up your journal and you felt your stomach drop. “I read the first couple pages and you just seem-”

“Crazy.”

“No no- I wasn’t going to say that-”

you grabbed your book and ran away from him feeling the tears starting to form in your eyes.

you got into your car and slammed your door shut. you drove home as quickly as you could without getting pulled over.

no one was home, you rain to the bathroom and threw your hands to your hair.

you looked at the mirror and looked physically disgusted with yourself.

“why can’t you be fucking normal? this wouldn’t have fucking happened if you could just talk to people like a normal fucking person.” you almost yelled at yourself.

the hot tears against your cold skin almost burned. you scrunched your eyes shut and you felt your breathing getting scattered.

you sat on the ground against the sink and tried to catch your breath.

your eyes shot open when you heard your doorbell ring.

you composed yourself as much as you could, before walking (almost falling) down the stairs.

you opened the door without looking at who it was, you just stared at your feet.

“y/n- really, are you okay?” you felt your breathing get fast again. you tried to shut the door but a hand stopped you.

“may I come in please?” you moved out of the way indicating him to come in.

you walked over your living room and before you knew it someone spun you around and put their hands of either of your shoulders.

“please, look at me. I don’t know whose hurt you before, but I won’t- I promise.”

you took a deep breath before looking up at him, with direct eye contact. you never really noticed how pretty his eyes were before.

“what is wrong? and I don’t want a bullshit answer, I’m asking because I genuinely care. I see you walking in the hallways, scared to even look at anyone. I want to know, why?”

you barely know this kid and now he’s asking you for your life story.

no words came out of your mouth, because you didn’t know what to say. so you just shrugged your shoulders.

“no one notices.” you said quietly, feeling the tears start to form again.

“what do you mean- y/n?” he crossed his arms in front of him and you actually felt your muscles relax, you didn’t even notice that you were all tense.

he sat down on the couch next to him and lightly tugged your hand down to sit next to him.

“I’m just there. no one ever notices me. I know I sound dramatic, I, not trying to sound like some sappy movie, but it’s true.”

he let out a sigh.

“You sit in the third row in calculus. I noticed when you weren’t there for two days in a row. there was no one to laugh when I was making fun of Mr. Doherty. I do that because you always giggle and then cover your face with the sleeve of your sweater. Getting a detention is worth it.”

“you sounded really good today..” you whispered almost quiet enough where you couldn’t even hear it.

he heard you. but he wanted to play. “sorry, what did you say?”

you sighed. “you sounded good today, okay?” you looked down and picked at your nails.

a smile was plastered on his face and you could swear you could see a faint blush appear on his cheeks.

“thank you, doll.” you felt that same blush on your cheeks.

you shrugged your shoulders as if saying, “no problem.”

“do you want to hang out after school tomorrow- I mean we don’t have to its totally up to you I don’t want to make you nervous or anyth-”

“yes!” you smiled and covered your mouth because you didnt really notice how loud you got. you were just excited. a cute boy asking to hang out? who wouldn’t get excited?

“sounds like a plan.” he kissed you’re forehead and for the first time in a while, you felt grounded.

—————————————————-

hmmmm do we need a part 2 to this???