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cinefairy · 3 years

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MANIFESTING REVAMP !

this is gonna be a pt 2 basically of this post if you haven’t already go check it out!!

okay so this post is gonna be strictly on law of assumption and evolving into a better mindset.

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LAW OF ASSUMPTION 101

what is law of assumption?

law of assumption is an everyday thing, without even knowing we assume things into our reality (apart from trauma/abuse). now that you have discovered the depth of law of assumption you can now create the life you truly wanna live, i have done it and so many others have. the basics of law of assumption: WHATEVER YOU WANT, ASSUME YOU HAVE IT, PERSIST THAT YOU HAVE IT. that is truly it, and yes it is that simple.

if it’s truly that simple, then why do people use methods?

great question! people use methods to help them align with their desires, for example someone might use subliminals. they believe that using subliminals will help them manifest, but the issue with methods is that they dont work unless YOU BELIEVE THEY WORK! not to mention you can use subliminals for 2 years and get no results and you wanna know why? its because of YOUR MINDSET. if you truly believe that you’re a failure, stupid, ugly. a subliminal can only do so little. YOU HAVE THE POWER TO EVERYTHING.

how to actually apply law of assumption?

its very easy, trust me! i get we struggle from time to time but realise your inner ability to overcome any obstacle. use the law everyday intentionally. how? okay, lets say i want my teacher to not come into school today, i want a cool subsitute instead. i will use any “method” to help me!

• visualising

pretty self explantory; you visualise what you want. people say you have to visualise “clearly” and your visualisation cant be blurry, this is OBVIOUSLY FALSE. your visualisation can be blurry asf. you can get what you want anyhow

• commanding your subconscious

commanding your subconscious..again self explanatory; you say “subconscious..i have (blah blah) or anyway you want to address your subconscious. again, your subconscious is YOU. its personalised to you and knows exactly what you want so please dont ever stress “what if my subconscious thinks this instead..” that cant ever happen..literally.

• affirming

affirming! everyone does it, just affirm that whatever you want is either already here, its coming/on its way. it doesnt matter how you affirm literally, and it doesnt matter what affirmation u use. no you don’t have to repeat affirmations, people just like to. you can say any affirmation you like.

• scripting

scripting is soo fun and if you’re artistic or like to get involved in reading/writing this method is for you. its so freeing and fun, just WRITE! write whatever you want, write how you magically found a £100 note on the floor in your diary. write your life like a story and deeply fall in love and assume that its already here

• my personal method

heres how i manifest (sometimes) so if im feeling worried/anxious or i procrasinate too much about a certain manifestation. i rant either in my head or on my notes phone app. after that i chill for a couple of moments and i turn over a new leaf. i start affirming for what i actually do what and i write in my notes app like it’s actually happened. im in the state of wish fulfilled and i feel satisfied. i mean..it’s already here, why should i worry?

theres so many methods, these are just a few i picked out!

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omg..i overconsumed too much information, im struggling and procrastinating, what do i do?

we’ve all been there! dont worry. heres what to do

• REALISE THAT YOU ARE THE GOD OF YOUR REALITY, AND STEP INTO THE KNOWING THAT YOU ARE GOD.

• SLOW DOWN/LIMIT/UNFOLLOW the people who you follow, instead of following loa blogs/pages follow accounts that are similar to what you’re manifesting.

• SIMPLIFY THE LAW! dont make it worse for you and dont make it confusing for you.

thats all!

“i’ve been affirming for … days/weeks/whatever and its still not here?? what am i doing wrong”

i understand your frustration. i get asks like this all the time and i need you guys to understand that you have the power on how quickly or slowly your manifestation comes to you. when i get asks like this, it gives me the feeling that you guys are in the “waiting period” when there is no “waiting period” there is only this moment right now.

AND STOP PUTTING A HAULT ON YOUR LIFE CUS OF YOUR MANIFESTATION!!! please i cannot stress this enough interact with people, have fun, go to parties, do your homework dont put a stop on life for your manifestation. no, you do not need to affirm 24/7 this is not a JOB live LIFE!!!

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“i want to stop procrastinating, i want to finally have my desires and manifest my dream life”

and i want the same for you too! and its POSSIBLE. honestly. it really is all possible, do not compare yourself to other people and their manifestations, you are YOU. and you will get your manifestation.

SELF CONCEPT

i cant stress enough how important self concept is. its the key to everything ive made a post on it here. but i’ll say it again! with self concept you’re stable. you do not switch up, you’re consistent and more confident with yourself. dont know where to get started? dw. start off with these affs. (both manifesting + confidence affs)

[♡] manifesting has always been so easy for me.

[♡] i never have any doubts or limitations, i am a master manifestor.

[♡] i never struggle with anything nor do i blame and bully myself. i treat myself with kindness and respect

[♡] i love who i am becoming, i love who i am, i love everything about myself

[♡] i manifest everything i want within seconds

[♡] the 3D automatically conforms to my desires

[♡] its so exhausting being so amazing and pretty..and also smart!

[♡] i am flawless in every aspect of my life, literally home life, school life, relationships and more

[♡] life has become more enjoyable for me

[♡] i am living my dream life.. im so happy. i love how everything is rn.

NOW..THATS IT! DON’T EVER LOOK BACK. KEEP ON PERSISTING

trust me, you can do it. you’re so amazing and i cant wait for you to actually see it one day, for you to still be here after you went through hell and back. after you’ve endured such difficult times and you’re still here??? thats amazing. give yourself a pat on the back. you’re a god now, and you can create your entire life. you really can!!! if i can do it, so can you. so now. TELL YOURSELF THIS:

I AM THE CREATOR OF MY REALITY, I CAN CHANGE MY REALITY IN A SPLIT SECOND, IM BECOMING THE PERSON I WANT TO BE AND NOTHING IS STOPPING ME. I AM PERFECT, I AM DIVINE, I AM SPECIAL.

thats it my loves. <333

#law of assumption #manifestation #law of abundance #law of attraction #affirmations #manifesting #self concept #self improvement #dream life #neville goddard

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kiruuuuu · 4 years

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Smoke/Mute in which ten cups of coffee change Mute’s life. (Rating T, slice of life/fluff/budding romance, ~5.8k words) - written for none other than @nutbrain for being a remarkable human being and an even better friend 💖 Please enjoy!

Mark eyes the shopfront before him with suspicion. His safe haven apparently gone, a flashier version has taken its place some time during the semester break, keeping nothing but the location and the proffered goods. Instead of the old-fashioned, thick-cushioned chairs and dim lighting, the new café shines with an open-floor concept, simple wooden furniture and an overall dark look with specks of gold to brighten it up. Leo Coffee, reads the sign next to a golden logo displaying a roaring lion. What big cats have to do with coffee isn’t obvious to Mark, but he overcomes his initial distaste and steps inside nonetheless.

As visible from outside, the place is deserted. The previous coffee shop was frequented by businesspeople and students alike, located halfway between the campus and Mark’s dorm – on rainy days, people often took public transport and bought their coffee elsewhere, but even on those occasions, it’s never been as empty as this.

Not that Mark is complaining. If the coffee is good, he’ll continue frequenting the new shop, and being able to work in peace would be an added bonus. He is quite fond of Julien and Timur, but even so, they’re not the… easiest to live with. To say the least. A quiet place would be very welcome.

He sets his books down on the table furthest away from the counter, slings his bag over the back of a chair and approaches the empty void where an employee should be standing. This is when he notices another curiosity: there’s no menu board. There isn’t even a menu card by the counter or anywhere, really, only a glass case with a handful of baked goods inside, most of which look like a child made them. So far, the only redeeming quality is the delicious dark smell of roasted coffee beans lingering in the air.

After another minute, still nobody has appeared, so Mark checks his phone for reviews. If the place has less than four stars – alright, three, he’s giving them the benefit of the doubt purely because of their convenient location and quietness –, then he’s out of here. He can’t even remember the last time he had to wait this long to -

“Are you going to order or what?”

Nearly dropping his phone in the process, Mark jumps at the sudden gruff voice and looks up to find himself face to face with a grizzled man. The black apron is all that betrays him as an employee as the unimpressed glare and casual attire do nothing in his favour. “Uh”, he replies eloquently and vows that he’ll never set foot in this place again if this is how he’s going to get treated.

The old man’s expression melts into friendliness. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Welcome to Café Leo – it’s your first time here, so have a loyalty card, lad.”

Mark accepts the piece of paper without thinking, still thrown off by the bloke’s sudden appearance (how does he move completely silent like that), and at least has the presence of mind to inspect it. Its contents are so absurd that he forgets to ask how the man opposite him knew he hadn’t been to the shop yet. “‘After 10 coffee purchases, you’re eligible for a free wish’”, he mumbles, reading the text printed white on black aloud. “‘This offer is not transferable.’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that only you can redeem your reward, not anyone else. Would you like some coffee?”

He blinks at the bearded man, trying to ascertain whether he’s being serious, and is met with an almost bored stare. Weighing his options, the scales are only slightly tipped in favour of staying, but only because he knows Julien has a ‘visitor’ over today and there’s no other place he can study – the library is overrun by frantic procrastinators who left finishing their coursework assigned over the break to the absolute last minute, and Manu is coming back tomorrow. Apart from her and his roommates, there’s no one with whom he’s comfortable enough to invite himself over.

Especially not him. God knows why Mark even considered him for a brief second.

Looks like he’ll have to deal with this awkwardness if he wants to get any work done whatsoever. “Alright then. What do you sell?”

“Coffee”, comes the curt answer.

Mark rubs his eyes in exhaustion. He’s beginning to understand why there’s no other customers here. “Sure. Yes. A coffee, then.”

“That’ll be…” The employee trails off while frowning down at his wristwatch. “…um, about £7.92.”

“For one coffee?”

“It’s free refills, son.”

Oh, so maybe this is an American chain. That would explain quite a bit. Mark considers whether he’s staying long enough to get the most out of his money, but seeing as the bloke doesn’t seem the chattiest type and he’s unlikely to get interrupted, he decides it’s worth it. Still, there’s something he simply can’t let go. “… what do you mean, ‘about’ £7.92?”

“Are you paying cash or card?”

Alright then.

The next ultimatum: if the coffee turns out dogshite, he’s never coming back. He’d rather travel an increased distance to a normal coffee shop than to have to deal with this nonsense. Wordlessly, he sets down a £10 note and scoops the change into his wallet before watching the obviously American guy (and maybe the chain imports all their workers, who knows) pour a cup of the darkest coffee he’s ever seen. He unceremoniously sets it down in front of him and makes no indication of mentioning neither cream nor sugar. He’s lucky Mark prefers his energy supply as-is.

“Ta”, Mark mutters and scurries away, glad to escape that hard stare. To make sure he’s not being scammed, he takes a quick sip of the fragrant liquid and is surprised at how pleasant the taste is. Minimal bitterness, a gentle, almost floral note, and just strong enough to satisfy his craving.

Well, crap.

Looks like he’ll have to come back after all.

~*~

“Did you guys know the old coffee shop closed?”, Mark voices his thoughts into the middle of a medium-sized food war between Manu and Timur involving entirely too many packets of salt.

“The one on campus?”, Manu asks and accidentally elbows Julien in the ribs, causing him to actually look up from his phone for once.

“No, the one halfway to our dorm.”

“I was there last week”, Timur pipes up, making him furrow his brows. A week can’t be enough to refurnish the entire café, let alone switch owners completely. “Is it closed now?”

“There’s a different one instead. It was dead when I went, but the coffee’s good. The bloke serving me was weird.”

“Look at you, stringing multiple sentences together”, Julien chimes in, grinning. “Something novel must’ve happened for you to even bring it up. Was the dude hot?”

“Because that’s the only reason anyone would ever get excited about anything”, says Manu drily. “We can check it out if it’s good, even if the employees suck. Not like we have to socialise with them.”

Mark shrugs and regrets mentioning the café in the first place – it feels somehow personal, whether it’s to do with the odd experience overall or the fact that he ended up staying more than three hours. His productivity was through the roof, the calm atmosphere helped immensely and the thought of his loud friends – as much as he appreciates them – invading his newfound hideout isn’t one he particularly enjoys.

It turned out that the employee wasn’t so bad after all: as soon as Mark considered asking for more coffee, he appeared right by his side and filled his mug again, without bothering him at all. Still, Julien would complain about him and Timur might agree and Manu is likely to judge his impolite manner, and Mark wouldn’t be able to defend him. Even if he doesn’t mind the silent company.

For the moment, he needn’t bother with these thoughts as his friends are wholly occupied with arguing over some internet memes (and Mark remembers vividly how they all had to talk Julien down from nibbling at their laundry detergent pods), so nothing could be further from their minds than sitting down and actually studying for their degrees.

Not that they’re bad students, quite the opposite, they’re just not as… ambitious as Mark. Some have called him obsessed, yes, and he can’t quite refute it, but he prefers to call it ‘determined’. There have been few who are able to keep up with him, which is probably partly the reason why he’s made friends with people from completely different departments. He tends to be a loner in most classes, which suits him just fine.

Well. Most classes.

“I would give my left bollock for you.”

Mark certainly doesn’t appreciate the imagery. He hands over the photocopied sheet to the bloke nearly bouncing in delight before shuffling after his fellow students into the lecture hall. Closely followed, of course. “Make sure to change enough details”, he repeats the reminder, earning a scoff.

“I’ll make it illegible, babe, don’t worry.” James plops down next to him, stretching and taking up too much space. “You’re the only reason I’ll actually get credit for this course.”

Oh, Mark is very aware of this fact. He lets his seat neighbour prattle on as he takes out his materials, lines up his pens, and waits for the lecture to start. If he were pressed to explain how he ended up in this position, with a chatterbox glued to his side too lazy to do any of the coursework, he wouldn’t have a concise answer. Other than his inability to say no.

The problem is that James knows exactly who to befriend. Mark is naturally drawn to the overachievers in each class and carefully selects his group for projects, going by people who do put the time and work in to get a good grade – anything where students are meant to collaborate is 30% actual work and 70% politics. The right people tend to listen to him whenever he knows better, because they’re interested in improving and learning, they tend to go along with his division of tasks, because he distributes them fairly and suited to everyone’s skills, and they tend to work best independently, so they can get it done even without excessive communication.

And James? He follows the same strategy as Mark, except that he’s a leech. He latches onto the teacher’s pets, chooses the easiest tasks, always volunteers for presentations (meaning he’ll just have to regurgitate what his group produced), and bribes his groupmates so they don’t throw him out. Whether it’s snacks or drinks after class, whether it’s attention and compliments, or playing matchmaker: he knows how to make himself useful in all aspects other than his studies.

He’s a clown. He makes everyone laugh and worms his way into their hearts so they would feel bad about calling him out. Not having to do any work is his reward for asking questions everyone’s thinking but doesn’t dare ask for fear of looking stupid in front of the prof.

Obviously, James has latched onto him ever since they crossed paths in chem last semester, and Mark considered dropping the current class when he found out that he was in it as well. Even worse, James began asking him for homework, giving excuses like having had no time, not being able to write it down concisely, and so on – and though Mark initially refused, classmates approached him and gently nudged him towards sharing his results with James. Just to be nice. Just to help him. He’s such a good guy after all.

So Mark’s homework gets copied and passed along. And James’ fondness of him only grows.

During the long, meaningless rant interspersed with an impressive amount of curse words, he perks up at a quiet: “Wait, this one doesn’t make any sense.”

His pride won’t let him ignore it. “Which one?”

James points at one of Mark’s answers, a complicated equation. “Shouldn’t that be on top?”

“The denominator?”

An uncertain glance. He points again. “This.”

“You mean the bottom fraction? That’s the denominator, yes. And it is where it should be.”

James frowns, indubitably not content with the reply but possibly unsure how to voice his dissatisfaction.

“Trust me, it’s correct. Just copy it.”

“But I want to understand it.”

Fat chance. No way did he get any of the previous homework without having engaged with the subject matter at all, so it’s impossible for him to work it out, even if Mark explained it. Which he doesn’t want to. Because he figures it’d be like explaining string theory to a brick wall. He’s saved by the prof’s entry, knowing James at least has the decency to shut up during class, and hopes he can simply slip away afterwards.

It turns out, however, James is fully aware of his biggest weakness. “Do you have a bit of time after? You think you can explain it to me? Please?”

Yikes.

Not only is Mark burning to show him how wrong he is, he’s also entirely unable to refuse a plea for help. And there’s no doubt James knows this. He can’t keep getting away with it, he’s exploiting Mark enough as it is without offering much – if anything – in return, plus it’s obvious the endeavour is futile and doomed from the start. And this is disregarding the possibility of James suggesting more meetings in the future. So, like the reasonable adult he is, Mark replies: “Sure.”

And has never wanted to kick himself more.

If this bloke really is the only employee they have, it’s no wonder the place is dead yet again. They stare at each other, unblinking, and seem equally dismayed about each other’s presence. “Hi”, says Mark after a few seconds of tense silence.

The old man is wearing the same clothes as last time, apron and jeans – even his disinterested expression hasn’t changed. “I’m Sam”, he offers completely out of the blue, surprising Mark with how unexpected the introduction is. “I figured you shouldn’t have to keep calling me ‘this bloke’ in your head.”

“… Mark”, he responds hesitantly.

“Is that a threat?” Sam barks out a brief, mirthless laugh. “I know. You wrote it on your loyalty card.”

He most certainly did not, but only because the card is solid black with white text. “Look, I’m just here to buy coffee.”

“You brought a friend.” Sam indicates James who already sat down by a window and is absorbed in his phone for the time being – and for all his faults, Mark has to admit that at least his (limited) attention is always on the person he’s talking to; he’s never seen his fellow student even checking for messages during a conversation.

“Not really”, he says nonetheless and is reasonably sure they’re out of earshot. “We just have chem together.”

“You have chemistry, hm?”

He wonders if it’s possible to set someone on fire with a hard look alone. “Just sell me the bloody coffee.”

“For the both of you?” Sam turns around and studies the clock on the wall behind him, whispering to himself for a few seconds before announcing: “That’ll be roughly £15.84.”

“Fine.” He holds out a card, scowling when Sam makes no move to take it.

“No complaint?”

“Is it gonna be cheaper if I do? Besides, he’s paying. So I don’t care.”

“Oh. Then it’ll be £22.43.”

“Why is it -” As quickly as his annoyance spikes, it ebbs again. It’s obvious there’s no logic behind all this nonsense, yet he still tries: “If it’s cheaper for me, I’ll pay and get the money back from him.”

“That’s illegal. You’ve already told me he’s paying.”

“I’m not trying to buy liquor, why would it -” Deep breaths. He already told James about how good the coffee is, and if they go anywhere else, someone else might see them. He’s strongly incentivised to stay. “Fine. Here.”

Sam runs the card and, as last time, pours two very unimpressive mugs before, to Mark’s horror, reaching into the display case and pulling out two slices of cakes on their own respective plates. The chocolate one is drooping and threatening to fall over if anyone looked at it wrong, and the sponge cake seems suspiciously wet. There’s no telling how long they’ve been sitting there. “It’s on the house”, Sam says, almost begrudgingly, as if he was the inconvenienced one.

Mark considers asking for forks or napkins but decides that the shorter their interaction, the healthier his sanity. “Ta, mate. Do you need my loyalty card?”

“No need.”

Fair enough, though he’s not sure what the point of it is, then. He carries the coffees and cakes over in two trips and wonders how he’ll get rid of the sickly-looking bakeware without Sam noticing. When James eventually tries his piece and doesn’t keel over immediately though, Mark gives his own a try.

It’s the best chocolate cake he’s ever had. And he’s never been madder in his life.

~*~

At some point, it turns into stubbornness. There’s a few mannerisms, the odd hobby and some of his preferences which started out as either ironic, as guilty pleasures or as things he actively disliked, but the more he engaged, the more he developed the attitude of: you know what? This is mine and I don’t care what anyone says about it.

He’s starting to adopt Leo Coffee. The awkward vibe about it, the indecipherable employee, the delicious food and drinks – it holds its own charm in a way, and he’s stopped wondering about being the only patron. It’s perfect for studying or unwinding, and does wonders for his stressed soul. He’s been returning regularly now, about once a week, and even brought James with him a second time to argue about yet another homework he criticised. The atmosphere renders Mark calmer, more patient, and so he endured the other man’s presence for much longer than he would’ve thought possible. They stayed for almost three hours the first time, even longer the second.

Just to make sure he’s not being a nuisance, he tried to check the coffee shop’s opening hours and wasn’t even sure what he expected to find. They’re listed nowhere, of course, and Sam switched topics the instant he brought it up.

So now the only people he has to drag in here are his friends, who have somehow evaded his efforts so far – but not today. Timur and Julien promised to come even though Manu has to go to some recital or other, meaning she’s excused. For now.

Eyes idly following pedestrians outside, he’s resting his chin in his palm and waiting. Being the only punctual one has always meant boredom, so he’s lucky his mind is imaginative enough to keep him occupied in the meantime. His train of thought meanders through all the topics occupying his brain recently, how the new guy Julien is seeing is basically moving into their apartment, how Timur keeps hanging around the wrong crowd, how unfair it is that Manu aces all her courses with so little effort, how he happened to run into James during his break today and almost suggested spending it together -

His phone buzzes, interrupting his aimless daydreaming and prompting him to check the colourful screen.

I got ambushed, writes Julien and it’s unclear whether he’s being cryptic on purpose. Mark sends a question mark and has to wait a minute or two for the explanation: Sudden date night, looks like Netflix & chill boys ;) sry for ditching you but the shop isn’t gonna go anywhere right?

An eye roll later, Mark responds with a simple TMI.

I don’t think I’ll make it either, adds Timur, a friend wants to yarn bomb the stature by City Hall and they need me as lookout.

This one gets points for creativity at least. He sighs and reassures them with a quick sure, no problem before commending himself for not going home first to drop his bag off. Now he can just study instead. Woohoo.

Another brief vibration, this notification from a completely different group chat, one Mark apparently forgot to leave once the project was done: @Mark: are there carrots in carrot cake?

The number is translated to ‘GirthControl’, so there’s just one person this could be. He stares at his screen. Is that a trick question? Yes, he feels confident enough to affirm to James.

Ah okay. Thanks babe.

This is when it occurs to him: Wait, why did you only ask me?

Silence. Whatever quest James is currently on, it apparently required Mark’s input and Mark’s input only.

He can’t help but laugh at the absurdity and suddenly feels a lot less abandoned. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter whether his friends don’t rank him at the top of their priority list as long as he’s on it somewhere. And knowing that he’s left a lasting impression on James beyond being the lad who supplies him with homework is oddly reassuring.

When he approaches the counter, Sam once again materialising out of nowhere (at least that’s what it feels like – he’s always there when Mark needs him and never at any other time), he’s decided to not get weirded out by anything today. “A coffee”, he orders confidently and inspects the haphazardly thrown together bagels featured prominently in the infamous display case. “And a bagel.” He doesn’t bother specifying, Sam will choose for him anyway.

After peering at the digital alarm clock on the counter, Sam announces the approximate value of the aforementioned items and then squints at him. “Weren’t you going to meet with somebody?”

Mark half-shrugs. “Kinda. They’re busy though.”

“Mind if I join you?” He must notice Mark’s surprise because he adds: “It’s your ninth time here. Would be a shame if we didn’t get to talk before you’ve filled up your loyalty card, don’t you think?”

“Alright”, he agrees and waits until Sam has poured himself a mug as well before they sit down at Mark’s usual table – tucked away in a corner but close enough to the windows to be able to do people-watching if his eyes need a rest from staring at textbooks or screens all day long. It’s the first time he examines the man opposite him more closely: the distinguished features, greying beard, wild mane of hair. He looks too… important to be working in a coffee shop, like he was destined for greatness. Mark can’t picture him angry even if he exudes a bitter, cynical aura which he’s likely to hide behind sarcasm.

“How did you end up here?”, he wants to know, genuinely curious.

“Good question.” Sam takes a few sips of his excellent coffee as he ponders how to reply. “It’s a temporary thing, that’s for sure.” He leaves it at that. “What do you study?”

Mark eyes the disorganised heap of books keeping his bagel company and sighs. “At this point, I don’t even know anymore.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It is”, he emphasises. “I love studying.”

“Where’s the problem then?”

There is none, he wants to say yet his mouth refuses to comply. He stares into the dark liquid, running his thumb over even porcelain and then decides to sod it – he asked, right? And somehow, it’s always easier to unload on a complete stranger. “I feel like it’s all I’m doing.”

“You keep others at a distance on purpose.” He nods, even though it wasn’t a question. “So don’t be surprised if they do the same.”

“I’m not.” The warmth seeps into his palms as he wraps his hands around the mug, providing as much comfort as Sam’s gentle tone. “I just want it to be different.”

“Make an effort. It’s never to late to change. I’m sure your friends will appreciate it. Put some trust in them, they’re your friends for a reason.” He nods again, lost in thought. “Have you figured out what you’re going to wish for next time?”

He scoffs, amused. There isn’t a single thing he can imagine himself wanting from the old man before him, so he’s unlikely to wish for anything at all. “No. Not yet.”

“Well, think about it. I believe in you, son.” With that, Sam downs the last of his own coffee and gets up, ready to walk back behind the counter and only stops when Mark calls his name.

“Is there someone you care about?”

It’s the first time he sees Sam smile. “Yes. There were two, but I lost one – so I keep the other one twice as close without trying to be suffocating. It’s hard. But remember, Mark, it’s never too late to tell the people in your life how you really feel.” And then he’s gone, disappeared into the back, leaving behind a faint nostalgia tinted with hope.

There’s no challenge from which Mark has shied away in his life, and this one isn’t going to be his first.

~*~

The word fuck on his lips, Mark bursts into the café like a panicked chicken. He’s juggling two bags and his phone, his frantic typing only interrupted by the need to breathe now and then, and nearly drops it when he slams his book bag to the ground at the counter. “Sorry, one sec”, he addresses an unimpressed-looking Sam as he dials a number and curses once more when it’s not immediately picked up. “Can I get a coffee to go?”, he asks, out of breath, as the dial tone beeps in his ear.

“I don’t serve people who are on the phone”, Sam replies, as calm as ever.

Mark mentally increases the number of people who’d be dead if his looks could kill by one. “This is the worst thing to ever happen to me”, he says gravely and hangs up after thirty seconds have passed. “I’m gonna fail this class.”

“An event without precedence, I assume?”

“You have no bloody idea. But yes, a coffee please, I need to go back to the library and get an entire semester’s worth of material because I’m too fucking dumb to read a syllabus correctly. This has never happened to me, I have one day to write this assignment and I’m lacking so much -”

“Can you give me the time?”, Sam interrupts him nonchalantly and stares at the screen of Mark’s phone as he holds it up for him to read. “Thanks. Let’s say £2.63.”

“And I can’t study at home because Timur has his friends over, and Manu is in a panic herself, and I know the library is going to be overrun by people who treat the study rooms like their social media accounts by loudly oversharing all the time, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to do this. Maybe I’ll just accept fate and fail. No clue how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

“Your loyalty card.”

Distracted, Mark fishes it out of his wallet and puts it on the counter. “And the other people in chem aren’t answering or are no help at all, I don’t get it, I’ve done group projects with them and still they don’t have the courtesy to help me out in this. It was a genuine mistake, as stupid as it is, and I’m just -”

“You need to write it down.”

He’s briefly interrupted in his rant to frown at the black paper card. “Write what?”

“Your wish.”

“But you won’t be able to read it. I only have black or blue pens.”

“Doesn’t matter. Write it down.”

With an irritated sigh, Mark takes out a pen and thinks for a second, the majority of his attention elsewhere still. Eventually, he scribbles someone who cares, not that it’d be legible in any way, and hands it to Sam. “That’s it? I’m not sure this reward system is going to pay off in the long term, you know.”

Sam holds the card up to the light as if he was inspecting a bank note and nods, apparently satisfied. “You’re all set. Good luck.”

“Ta, I’m gonna need it.” Mark shoves all his belongings in various pockets, hoping he’ll remember where he put them, and grabs the to-go cup. And then, without so much as a goodbye, he storms back out, steeling himself for an all-nighter certain to mess up sleep schedule for days, if not weeks.

He ascribes it to his flustered state that he doesn’t look up as he exits the coffee shop, and promptly runs into someone, collides with what feels like a solid wall. His coffee gets squished and sloshes over, soaking the front of his clothes – fortunately, it’s not hot at all, more like lukewarm which is odd in and of itself. He swears again, yanking his phone out of his pocket before it gets wet also and it’s only due to another hand grabbing the device that it doesn’t plummet to the ground straightaway.

“Oh bollocks, I’m so sorry”, says the wall he ran into which turns out to be none other than James. Of all people. “Are you alright? Is it hot?”

“No, no, I’m fine”, Mark presses through clenched teeth, the stress slowly overwhelming him. “But now I have to go home and change before I can start on this stupid fucking -”

“Babe. Calm down. What’s wrong?”

He takes a deep breath and ignores the quickly cooling wet patches on his clothes for the moment. “I still have to do the report. I didn’t realise we were meant to -”

“Oh, you haven’t done it? At all?”

“No! No, I didn’t, and everyone else is partnered up so I can’t just join someone else, so I’ll have to -”

“I’m not paired up.”

“Sure, once I’m done I’ll put your name on there, whatever, but that doesn’t -”

“Babe. Mark. Listen to me.” James waves in front of his face with a slight grin. “I did it. It’s almost done. I’ll put down that we did it together and you’re good.”

He stares at James, mouth open, for several unflattering seconds. “Wait – you… how?”

“I can show you, but it’s at my place. My roommate is around your height, he can lend you some clothes. Let’s go.”

And yet again, Mark finds himself unable to refuse. He drinks what’s left of his coffee in one go (and it really is tepid, he must’ve gotten really lucky), tosses the cup in the nearest bin and leaves Leo Coffee behind without a single glance back.

James’ flat looks exactly like Mark would’ve imagined it, only louder. Double bass and epic vocals are permeating every room, and all available horizontal surfaces are littered with stuff. The walls are plastered with posters, some funny, some pretty, some morbid, and it reeks of weed.

A small part of Mark feels right at home, oddly enough.

“Turn the fucking music down!”, James yells at the top of his lungs, throwing him an apologetic look, clearly uncomfortable with the state of it all and ignorant as to Mark’s growing amusement.

Somewhere, a door opens and the shrill guitars become clearer. “Whot?”, someone replies just as loudly.

“Exactly!”, is James’ deafening reply, and a few seconds later, the melodies decrease to a reasonable level. Another bloke joins them, tall and well-built with an unkempt beard and a band shirt as well as no socks.

“Who’s that? Is he allowed to be here?”, asks James’ roommate and regards Mark with suspicion.

“That was Sabaton, wasn’t it?”, Mark inquires back. “Primo Victoria?”

The dude’s entire face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, a connoisseur. He can stay, James, I like him already.”

And while the two of them exchange more words, Mark goes exploring. He ends up in what must be James’ room which is covered in paper, be it books or hand-written notes, and most of it seems related to chemistry in some way. Curious, Mark looks around until he finds a spiral-bound notepad titled with the name of the course they’re sharing this semester. Contrary to his expectations, it’s far from empty – not only does it contain copious lecture notes, it also features every assignment they’d been given since the start of the course.

Solved differently from Mark’s own answers.

Confused, he checks more closely and finds a recurring pattern: equations that are struck-through, calculations lacking several steps in between which wouldn’t be accepted by the prof this way, and very little text. It looks like the writings of someone who certainly understands the material but simply has a hard time putting his thoughts in order, putting his ideas into neat writing.

He’s been immersed for several minutes when James finally joins him, and when he does, Mark holds up his notes and greets him with a simple: “What the fuck?”

James doesn’t seem to realise where Mark’s problem lies and shrugs. “Yeah, I’m a hopeless case, I know.”

“No. No, you’re really not. This is – look here, if you just shift this around, you end up with the correct result. You’re like 95% of the way there, you just didn’t finish it.”

“Oh.” James blinks at him. “I guess. It’s kinda like that with the report. I was hoping you could help me write the conclusion, I’ve got the rest, but -”

“Sure. Yes.” Mark’s agreeableness seems to astonish his host. “That’ll take an hour, maybe two. And I won’t have to pull an all-nighter. James, you have no idea how much you saved me.”

And James, bless his soul, is blushing. “Well. No problem. I owe you anyway. Right?” He suddenly remembers he’s holding spare clothing and vaguely gestures in Mark’s direction. “You, uh, you can change in the bathroom. Don’t mind the cat, she just loves staring at naked people. Dom found out the hard way.”

Twenty minutes later, Mark is reading through James’ report with a ball of fur purring on his lap, faint metal playing in the background. There’s a lot of grammar and spelling to be fixed, as well as phrasing, but content-wise, it’s near flawless. He’s smiling to himself, enjoying the way James turns almost bashful whenever he compliments his work, and remembers Sam’s words from the second-to-last time he visited the café: it’s never too late.

He’s definitely treating James to dinner after he’s saved his arse like this.

The next time Mark passes by that familiar spot, the next time Mark develops a craving for caffeine and some peace and quiet, the next time he plans to go to Leo Coffee, all he finds is the same coffee shop which has been here for years already, the afternoon crowd populating the tables and several diligent employees taking care of the customers.

Somehow, Mark isn’t the least bit surprised.

#rainbow six siege #smoke #mute #smoke/mute #zero #fanfic #oneshot #I combined a few things I know you like and hopefully it's the same with the result #I want to remind you that there is no need to retaliate #but also that'd mean I've won this war

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dindooku · 4 years

Text

As a young student studying Criminology, Gotham was the perfect place to study the thoery of crime. But, that didnt come without it’s own risks. Without your intention, your life becomes intertwined with another’s; a life you had so vehemently tried to repress - and now it was within your grasp; the opportunity held upon a golden pedestal, just waiting for you to take it. In your own desperation to fend off the demons tormenting your soul, can you overcome the very thing your swore against? Or will you succumb to the darkness? When had being bad ever felt so good?

Rating: M/E (swearing, triggers, panic attack (not explicitly said) - alcohol abuse (OC isn’t an addict but doesn’t display healthy relationships with alcohol) - please read the tags. this fic is going to be very dark and twisted so please be warned in regards to further chapters

word count: ~5k

You needed this.

By fucking god you needed this.

You could blame it on your studies, your recent move to Gotham city to study your Masters in Criminology; the perfect setting really. And you could blame it on your stressful move; the house that you're renting not being anything like the photos you viewed online - the water-damaged walls and the odd-looking array of bullet holes in the front room, and maybe even the questionable red stain spotting along the cream-turned-brown carpet towards the bathroom.

But most of all it was this.

Moving to Gotham was the worst-best thing you have ever done. It'd do leaps and bounds for your research and personal evolution, but it was also becoming more and more apparent by the day as to why the little flat you lived in was so cheap; having an address with anything to do with Hell on it was probably a good indication.

Flat 221B, 36th, Hell's Kitchen, Gotham.

Yeah. That's why you fucking needed this.

It was an absolute shithole. You'd only been here for a week and you had experienced more crime than you had been privy to when studying at home. It was a catch 22, move to the most dangerous city you can think of and get 1-1 experience in crime, collecting data for your dissertation; or stay at home, go to a safe city and become some pansy police officer who refused to get their hands dirty.

You were always one for taking risks.

So, as you downed your last home-made margarita and stuffed your bits and pieces into your shoulder bag, you were off out the door.

Tonight was a field day; an excuse to go out and get absolutely trollied all in the name of science. It was just getting late, the sun had set a few hours ago and the Gotham nightlife brought the streets to life; ironically, considering the insanely high murder rates. Some would call you mad, a single, young, attractive woman walking unfamiliar streets at this time of night, in Gotham. And you supposed you were. See, the only reason you were studying crime was out of pure fascination. Fascination, yes. The theory of it, really - how the human mind comprehended such decisions and why you lived in such a society - who branded these rules? Desperation was a word you liked to play with. Its meaning subjective depending on your own reality, really. You had always seen the world differently... criminals weren't inherently bad people to you, they were just often misunderstood, brandished, acting out of desperation at someone else's greed. Obviously, you had the complete and utter fucking mentalists, but even then you could find an argument in their favour - like the Joker; he was misunderstood, torn and thrown around like a rag doll until he made a stand, a particularly violent one, but a stand nonetheless; a stand out of desperation to be heard, to be understood. And deep down you resonated with his actions, being driven to the extremes to be listened to.

You knew exactly how he felt. You had the scars to prove it.

Enough on that, though; you're here for a good time, right? Right. You're going out to forget about the stingy shithole you'll be returning to once the night bleeds into morning, to forget about the mountain of case studies you've yet to work through. It was all a bit overwhelming; thus solidifying your burning need to procrastinate and forget about it all, and what better way to do it than get black-out drunk in a bar you've never been to before?

You weren't an alcoholic by any means, you didn't rely on the sweet burn to see you through the days, but that didn't mean you couldn't revel in the double-ended spear of its toxicity - drinking so much to forget, but its effects only temporary. You were a student, after all, you had to live up to the stereotype?

You scoffed at the thought, murmuring out loud, "Fucking hell." Ok maybe you needed to slow down a little bit... you put the hipflask back in its pouch whilst you continued to walk to your third bar of the night.

You were on a pub crawl of sorts, embarking on your own little quest to scout out the best club in town for further investigation. You were just balancing on that fuzzy tightrope between bliss and blindness, the perfect haze to blur out the dangers of the night and warm your skin despite the bitter cold. You were in your own little world it seemed, and as a bright neon sign for a secluded back alley club came into view, you knew you had to investigate.

"Card." Came the burly voice in front of you. You had to crane your neck up to meet their eyeline, trying your best to pull a serious face and not laugh at the imaginary comedy sketch playing out in your mind.

"Card, you mean ID?" You ask, one eyebrow furrowing in question. You had all the relevant stuff, and deep down you'd be offended if they didn't ask, you'd only just turned 21, a few months ago in fact.

"No, Entry Card, VIP." He reiterates, crossing his hands in front of his chest. You scoff at the idea that a place like this required VIP cards to get in. 'Really? They'd have to pay me to not go in, ha' you humour to yourself, finding the joke a little too funny in your drunken state.

"What's so funny?" The man asks again, a bit more aggressively this time, like he knew you were mocking him in your head. And you were. You knew you shouldn't push your luck, his size easily outmatching yours. But fuck it.

"Nothin sweetheart, just surprised 'tis all," You tease, rolling your eyes as you put your ID away and prepare to leave the queue.

The bouncer can't help himself, "Surprised?"

"Mmm, yes, surprised, or disappointed? You choose." You smirk as you turn away, hips swaying in a drunken swagger that you would never normally possess. Something about you tonight just screamed fucking goddess - and 'don't fuck with me else it will be the last thing you do' - you didn't know why; you were in no state to start a bar fight and win. Maybe it was the tight, black faux leather flares and wrap around corset that filled you with a placebo pill of confidence; but by god did you have a stunning poker face, one that seemed to have caught the eyes of someone other than the bouncer you were antagonising.

A whistle stopped you in your tracks.

You stood on the edge of the pavement, back to the club, your hair flowing slightly in the wind. You tilted your head slightly towards the sound, your minimal movement the only sign of your acknowledgement. You really hated catcallers. It was one of the few things that would really wind you up, your short and temperate anger fizzing and popping under the surface.

"Let her in." Came a new voice. You turned around, eyes landing on an unfamiliar face. He was a tall guy, with an ice-white buzzcut and a sculpted face sporting scars; new and old - his brows knit into a harsh line and his piercing gaze instructing you with just his silent intention. You decide to play along, smirking back at him as you turn and saunter your way back to the entryway. As you walk past the bouncer you position yourself against him, slighting a faint touch of your body to his, sure to leave a whisper of your perfume lingering in the air as a sort of poisonous parting gift - a nicely packaged fuck you.

Your pupils instantly dilated to the sight laid before you. Ok, you take it back. This was no dingey club. Your skin was coated in an inciting shade of red; the coloured theme of the club. It was stimulating, the atmosphere - reigniting that previous cockiness you had been secretly harbouring through the night and twisting it into something still unfamiliar to you, the inner thrumming residing behind your naval indistinguishable from the music reverberating around the club.

The man who had whistled at you had disappeared, so you took this as your opportunity to grab a couple more drinks, to scout the club, of course...

You sauntered over to the bar and after a moment of getting yourself comfortable on the stool, locked eyes with the bartender. They didn't hold the same ferocity as the man before, and you felt your outer guard falling slightly at the soft tones lacing their eyes, their general aura giving off nothing inherently dangerous. They walk over, one hand wiping away at a newly washed pint glass with a rag.

"What can I get you?" They ask politely. They seemed young, too young in fact to be working behind the bar, but now wasn't the time for serious investigating - you highly doubted he was underage, just in fact sporting an inherent babyface. You smile sweetly back at the bartender as you purr your reply, "Whiskey on the rocks, please."

"Oh? Honey that's strong?" He questions, an eyebrow furrowing at your request. You giggle at his innocence.

"Mhm, make it a double." You smirk, and he only reciprocated, pouring a double and a little extra.

"You're new 'round here, aren't you?" He states as he passes over your drink, and you nod as you take a sip, soon following up with a further reply, "That obvious?"

"No, I just would've remembered a pretty face like yours if you'd been here before." He flirts, leaning down onto the bar, elbows sitting comfortably on the dark mahogany surface - it was a tactical move, you knew it, he was getting closer to you by the minute and you noticed his blatant interest the moment he locked eyes with you. You'd play along for a little while, it was good practice anyway, investigating.

You smile before replying, a brief pause between sips to sell your contemplation, "I can tell you're not one for wasting time..." You pause, implying silently for his name.

"Alex." He smirks, holding his hand out to you. You shake it, surprised by the dexterity. But as you thought things were going well, he pulls away sharply, his gaze dropping from you as he scurries back to the other side of the bar nervously. Your face scrunches in confusion, wondering exactly what you'd done wrong.

A firm hand around your waist answers your question.

The presence of another behind you makes you tense momentarily, their forward nature catching you off guard. A hand swirls around the small of your back, stopping at the natural curve of your waist, their palm sitting comfortably in the dip as their fingers latched into your exposed skin. The grip is tight, possessive - possessive for someone you didn't even know the face of. Your nervousness quickly turns into a tizzy, frustrated at the being behind you and their audacity to hold you so. You twist, turning your head to meet the side of their face, eyes rough with your bubbling anger.

The sharp-edged, stubbly profile of a man greets you, a little too close for comfort.

"Alex, two of whatever she's ordered on me, 'kay?" The man says. You roll your eyes at his cockiness, picking up your whiskey glass and downing the rest of the hot honey, burning your throat in the process - but you invited the pain, it's scorch momentarily masking the uninvited heat that was building elsewhere.

"I can order my own drinks, thank you." You scoff, sliding off of the barstool and away from his grasp, picking up your bag so that you can leave.

The man scoffs, using one hand to bring the red-tinted shades sitting on his nose sliding down, tilting his head to give you a better look. You turn and face him at the wrong time it seems, interrupting his very blatant scan of your form. You scoff at his actions, turning harshly to go, muttering to him as you walk past him and towards the exit, "In your fucking dreams."

Yeah - you tell him, girl. Too fucking right, that's what he gets for...that. Maybe you were overreacting, but the way your skin heated like wildfire at his unexpected touch, the way the previously dormant thrumming deep within your stomach tinged with a spark of something you hadn't felt in a long time, a feeling that was unfortunately not one of pleasure to you - you panicked. You'd never reacted like this, but something about his presence was just dominating your senses and you had to get away, to clear your head; maybe it was the alcohol, you didn't know - you didn't care, you just wanted fresh air and five minutes to get whatever the fuck has come over you out of your system.

"I see manners are not your chosen language," The man jokes, but he doesn't bother hiding the icy bitter frustration at your rejection. But you carry on, moving away from his ensuing footsteps.

"Neither are they yours," You retort, turning the corner towards the back exit. But you don't make it to the back exit. The scarred man from before moves from the shadows and grips your upper arm, swivelling you in one motion to face your incessant assailant. You don't give him the privilege of your attention, instead choosing to stare wide-eyed at the ground. Your bubbling anger evolves into something more pertinent, more feral, "What the fuck is it with you guys?" You spit, trying your best to yank your arm free. It was no good, every time you moved his grip on you tightened.

"That's no way to speak to a kind gentleman, is it darling?" The stubble-haired man chides, waving a hand in a dramatic swish as he talks.

"You and gentlemen is a bit of a reach, don't you think? And kind too, don't flatter yourself sweetheart -- hey! Let me go!" You scorn, yanking away harder. Your heart was starting to race now, the phantom ghost of familiar brutish hands that had hurt you before were blurring with your present reality. You couldn't go through that again, no. You'd moved away for a reason, even if it were disguised by your University Degree, the real reason was to get away from him.

Your change in body language seemed to shock both men, and soon the bearded man orders the other to let you go.

"Zsasz, let her go." He says sternly. As soon as his grip is off of you, you practically run to the bathroom, locking yourself in the stall. You close your eyes. You were trying so, so hard to help yourself, but it was just not to be. The last 12 months come crashing down on you, and you were helpless against the murderous gravity of it all. Your panic quickly turned into terror, and no matter how hard you tried to suppress the overbearing feelings blistering your heart, their clutch was now embedded into your conscious and they were working their way out, ripping and tearing, leaving nothing but devastation in its wake. It was brutish, the power of it all; how after all this time those short few moments held such a crippling power over you, a power no matter how hard you tried to overrule, decimated you each and every time. You're so caught up in your emotions that you don't hear the lock on the bathroom click, nor do you hear the faint rustling of a velvet suit making its way towards your stall.

However, you do hear the tap-tap of leather-coated knuckles against the door.

"Fuck off," You spit, not even attempting to mask the raspy panic between each word. The other person didn't say anything, and silence engulfed the room momentarily, only the occasional piercing sounds of your choked panic ripping the hazy-yellow neon light animating the bathroom. The clink of glass to wood brought your head up, your attention distracted and now upon the glass of whiskey being slid underneath the door.

"A peace offering," A familiar voice clarifies. You snatch up the drink and down it in one, desperate for a distraction; a controllable discomfort. You cough roughly at the strength, the new soreness from your rasped panic mixing distastefully with the burn from the alcohol - note taken; don't ever do that again.

You take a second to let the burn cool before speaking, "Thanks...for the drink."

He doesn't bother with a reply.

Another few moments pass and you feel you have yourself under control. You take in a deep breath and straighten your clothes out as you stand, brushing the stray hairs from your face and trying your best to look presentable despite the absence of a mirror. You unlock the door and move to step out, hand holding the empty glass out aimlessly for the other man to take.

He doesn't take it.

You furrow your brows and pause in your movements, and it is only now you chance a look into his eyes for the first time. The moment your eyes meet his, you regret it. Not because you're scared or frightened, no; you regret it because you know those are eyes you will forever see in your dreams. This man's eyes told you similar tales of the navy shores from home that you had often resided to in search of peace, the lighter hues telling tales of the midwinter sky you would doze under; and the occasional slash of cobalt reflected the darker depths of his soul, mirroring the light of unnamed stars. His eyes painted your soul in a colour you'd yet to see, a colour only he could grace you with, and it made you weak.

You were transfixed, held stationary by his unspoken authority. He raised an eyebrow at you, his understanding all too clear. You broke from your haze and scuffed, a hot blush creeping over your tear-stained cheeks.

Embarrassed couldn't even cover it.

"Fuck," you whispered, wiping away once again at the drying streaks of once warm tears on your cheeks. "FUCK!" You shout louder this time, chastising yourself as you come back to reality. What the fuck are you doing? You're stronger than this?

"How about we fix you another drink, hmm?" He says. You chuckle as you pinch the bridge of your nose, the heavy daze from the whiskey starting to mount its assault on your senses. Fuck it, you came here to get blackout drunk, so you're going to get fucking blackout drunk - for free by the looks of it.

You roll your shoulders and pick your head up, holding it high. "Sure, ugh--?" You say, holding out your hand to shake his as you hint for his name.

He replies with a smirk before turning you towards the door, catching himself before he places a hand at the small of your back, "Roman, Roman Sionis."

"Well, Roman, how about a pitcher or two?" You challenge, "Ever drunk with a student before?"

He didn't reply instantly, but you didn't let him, storming confidently out of the bathrooms and to the bar. You honed in on Alex, and at first he looked excited to see you, but as you approached he saw the darkness in your eyes and instantly knew you were'nt to be messed with. He poured a double shot of Vodka and Coke as quick as he could; it didn't even reach the counter before its contents were emptied by yours truly and slammed back onto the mahogany.

"Another." You growl, and Alex doesn't hesitate, the next drink landing in your hands within moments. You sink this one like the last, face maintaining the deadly glare it had held since you entered the room. Roman was soon at your side, marvelling at your drinking abilities; it was scary actually, how you managed to down your alcohol with such ease, expressionless. His grin faltered on your fourth shot and he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, breaking your anamatronic trance and stealing your attention to him; that's better - Roman always got what he wanted, and he wanted you. He raised an eyebrow at your anger, wondering how he could capitalise on this and turn the situation in his favour. But for some reason, he hesitates; the thought of being cruel to you made his skin shiver in an unpleasent way - oddly. See, Mr Sionis was a criminal, a violent, feral monster who, if he did not get his own way, or was undermined or disrespected, made sure that those were the last things said person would inflict - for disrespecting the King of Gotham's underground was a penalty punishable by death. A slow, torturous death, courtesy of his own cynical ministrations. He was the Black Mask, and the Black Mask felt no mercy. Why should he sympathise when he could not receive such pleasures? Others can't have what he cannot, that simply is not fair, its preposterous. And like the narcissistic bastard he was, he reasoned with this part of himself, convincing the little golden figure sat perched on his right shoulder that he was doing the nice thing by not kidnapping you right now and keeping you for himself. Something about you was different, he could sense it - he recognised the brutal blaze swirling in the depths of your eyes. They reflected his own - murderous. And that's when the little red devil on his left shoulder made their attendance known, reinforcing Romans suspicions. This girl had the devil in her, the same devil within him.

"What?" You asked, incredulously. Roman had been staring at you for longer than was comfortable, and you knew he was deep in thought over something. His eyes flicked like an old VHS tape, his physical thoughts and their direction reflecting in the depths of his scrutiny over you.

Roman grinned at his plan. He had to have you, but he knew now that forcing himself was not an option - he had to wait for you to come to him. And what better way than to get someones attention by no longer wanting it? It was the ultimate power play he thought, his excitement at the idea of you being his under your own intention ignited a blistering fire of self admiration within him - Roman Sionis was a fucking genius he thought, no, he knew.

"Nothing Darling, ciao." He replied smugly, his lips stressing a shit-eating grin at his own devious plan. He waltzed away from you to find Zsazs, desperate to let him in on his incredible plan.

You scoff at your dismissal. The fuck was all that about?

Rolling your eyes, your turn to Alex. You take a second to allow the room to catch up with you, "Did you see that?" You ask Alex, moving your head slightly to the side in a nod towards the now retreated Roman. Alex scoffs, placing a pint of water on the bar in front of you. You cut him a look of displeasure but knew you should probably slow down if you wanted to get back safe tonight.

"That guy, my dear, is Mr Sionis." Alex said, lifting his brows as at your confused look.

"Mr Sionis...right, and he is...?" You say, waving your hands in a confused manner.

Alex looked stunted, but continued to serve a few orders before continuing his conversation with you, "Well, Mr Sionis is the owner of this club."

Your eyes widen at the realisation, "The owner?" You mutter.

"Mhm." Alex hummed, amused.

But the conversation took a new direction, a direction Alex was not expecting.

"Tell me about this Mr Sionis, Alex." You murmur, gliding into your soft, convincing voice you used to get information about men.

"Well, he's the owner of this club, and my boss. He pays well." Alex starts, trying his best to close of the conversation.

"Hmm, yes; but what about him? What type of person is he?"

"I don't think--,"

"Alex," you growl, darkly. Your face dropped the sweet smile it had held before and Alex visibly winced. He knew he couldn't say too much, and he didn't know much either, but he also didn't know you, and if living in Gotham had any perks; he knew those eyes - they were the eyes of someone you did not fuck with if you wanted to keep breathing. So, Alex moved across the bar, leaning in on his elbows so he could whisper to you over the loud music; where only the two of you could be heard.

"He, he has a particular personality - colourful, bold,-" Alex starts, his eyes shifting past your figure a few times to make sure he wasnt being watched, "-Possessive. He gets what he wants - always. And he will do anything to do so, there's no limits with the guy. You fuck up, you're done."

"Done?" You whisper back, leaning in closer to Alex, only a hairs breath away.

Alex stalls, trying to find a way to answer your question without sinking himself to that fate. But he doesn't get the chance to, as you're pulling away and turning towards an unknown figure behind you.

The next few moments were a blur.

The next thing Alex knew, there was a face being buried into the hard mahogany of the bar, and the loud crack of the mans nose being broken shook Alex from his trance.

You moved so effortlessly, your movements only so perfect through hours of repetition. You didn't even stumble, and with the effectiveness of your ruminations, practically no attention was drawn to the now escalating scene at the bar.

"On what fucking planet is it ok to grab anyone like the way you just groped me, huh?" You whispered into your assailants ear. They whined and coughed, shifting under the mounting pressure you were placing at their shoulder. You had grabbed them by the arm the moment you felt their hand sliding across your ass, and the quick pinch had you seeing red - moving through muscle memory and destabilising the man by using his own weight against him. He was now bent over the bar, head buried in broken glass, his shoulder ready to pop at any moment. He was at your mercy and your blood turned primitive. You'd had enough of creepy perverts tonight.

"The fuck is wrong with you lady? It wasn't anythin' bad," The man groans, blood pouring from his nose and staining the white shirt he was wearing.

You pressed harder, muffling the pop of his shoulder joint and his cry of pain with a loud laugh, "Say, Frank - how bout you walk out this club now under your own premise before I have you wheeled out in a bodybag?" You sigh.

"The fuck, how'd you know my name was Frank?" he growled, grunting at the pain.

"Not only are you incredibly rude, but you're also rather obnoxious too, you fucking loser." You sneer, shifting his dislocated shoulder further round. He screamed, but only briefly, as you soon shut him up with a face full of glass.

"Fuck off, Frank, and don't come back."

You release him and he instantly turns and scampers away like the injured hyena he was. Rolling your eyes you turn back to Alex, who's eyes are wide with shock.

"Alex..." You mumble, and he gulps, his eyes searching yours out of panic over what you'll do next, "Just fix me a drink and I’ll be off. Sorry for the mess." You say calmly as if nothing happened. And that's the way it seemed, as no one even batted an eyelid to the violent display from moments ago. Alex says nothing but does as he's told, making you up an extra strong rum and coke. You down the drink and place the glass down.

"Where's the emergency exit?" You ask Alex, and he points to the door behind the bar. You smile, sliding him a small tip - hush money - and exit the building.

You made it about five minutes down the road before things began to get weird - real weird. This wasnt the same type of blurry you got from alcohol, this was colourful, dazy.

"Fuck - that fucker drugged me!" You sneer, words merging together as you propped yourself up against a brick wall. You tried to run over the events in your head, wondering where you tripped up. And then it hit you, the pint glass - when you leaned in to talk to Alex, he’d slipped something in the drink.

"Fu-cckk" You mumble, eyes incredibly droopy now.

You needed to get back to your flat, safety - yes.

But you didn't, as when you tried to move your legs they gave out from under you. This was an incredibly dangerous situation for anyone to be in, especially a young woman on the streets of Gotham. But the drugs worked quickly against your system, and before you had any time to prepare yourself for your inevitable demise, you blacked out

#roman x you #roman sionis smut #roman sionis fanfic #roman sionis x you #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis #roman sionis fanfiction #black mask fanfic #black mask fan fiction #black mask x reader #black mask #ewanfuckinmcgregor #ewanmcgregor #ewan mcgregor

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jebazzled · 4 years

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it ain’t your muse! (shut up & write, ft. rihanna)

You nerds are always talking about your muse. My muse this, my muse that, I have no muse, my muse went the way of the dinosaurs, if my muse comes out of its burrow and sees its shadow I won’t be able to write for six weeks.

Shut up about your fucking muse!

It is true that you might go through periods where it is hard to find time and energy to write, or negative experiences in a writing community might leave you with anxiety surrounding writing. But by and large, writers block is something you can overcome!

Please, for the love of god, let me help you.

Writing is a muscle, and you’ve got to exercise it if you don’t want it to atrophy.

This tutorial is a bit of tough love about y’all and y’all’s diddly-darn muses, and some advice for snapping yourself out of it!

So here’s the thing about writing, my loves. You have to actually do it.

TERRIBLY inconvenient, I know.

I’m not here to tell you how to manage your work-life balance or how to manage your time. If you’re not writing much because you straight up don’t have time to write much, my advice is simple: pare down on your characters, focus on the plots that matter most to you, and spend some mental health juice on reminding yourself that there isn’t an RP Prom Queen, and even if there were, it’s better not to live or die by that bizarro crown.

But if you’re having trouble writing because of Your Muse... I’m cracking my knuckles.

We’ve all written with folks before - or been that folk before - who need a very specific set of circumstances if they’re going to write: they need time to Pinterest, need to listen to a specific playlist, need to get in the mindset, need the thread to scratch a very specific itch and need all of it to come together before the moon passes out of a waxing gibbous. As a fellow dev ho, I understand the appeal of writing to suit a mood, of vibing to a playlist, of prioritizing the stuff you’re going fucking feral for, of having the stars align while you do the thing. But if you’re like this when you’re writing for other people -

well, you’re making things difficult for both you and your writing partners! We can’t control the external constraints on our time, e.g. work and school, and we can’t always control the nonsense our psychology spins to keep us from writing. But some things are within our control, and by god, if there is any control to be had in the year of Mother Sappho 2021, don’t you want it?

At least some of your writers block is probably dumb as hell. So let’s beat the shit out of that part.

Anyway, if you’re yakking on and on about how your muse demands a bottle of red wine and a scented candle and fairy lights and soft socks and the blood of the servant, willfully given in order to spit out 200 words, or whatever...

it’s not that fucking deep.

Writing is a muscle. It’s like any other muscle: you need to exercise it.

If you’re training for a 5k, you don’t sit on your couch listening to “Eye of the Tiger” until race day. You get your ass off the cushion and pound the pavement. You probably start by alternating walks with short bursts of running. You probably don’t work your way up to actually running 5k at a time for a few weeks. And once you’ve run that first 5k, you don’t go sit on your couch to listen to “Eye of the Tiger” until the next race. You keep running to stay in shape for the next race.

Writing is like that.

What you write does not have to be perfect.

You can work on the post for six weeks and there will still be things you could change. You know what change your writing partner would have appreciated most? If you’d posted it for them three weeks ago. Don’t let perfect be the enemy of good.

Cut yourself the same slack you cut for your writing partners. Do you yearn to keelhaul them if their reply isn’t worth a National Book Award? No, because you’re not an asshole. They’re also not an asshole. Everyone is reasonable here. Write something that responds to what they gave you and that gives them something to work with. Not every single post has to be capital-I Inspired. ✨

What you write does not have to be a vibe ready for the Goop newsletter.

I was a creative writing major in college, and I was always having to turn stuff in for class that wasn’t exactly what I wanted to work on: a short story set in another country when I just wanted to write a play with puppets, an essay about food when I would rather write one about a weekend drive, etc.

Sometimes, you write what you write when you write it not because it’s getting you hot and bothered but because you’ve owed a reply for A While and you feel bad about keeping someone waiting. It will still be fun, because you chose to do that thread with your character and someone else’s character for a reason, and that reason stands, even if your monkey brain is yearning to play with that slime that makes fart noises when you put it away.

(Pro tip, here: don’t do threads you don’t actually have any interest in writing! It is less awkward to tell someone, “I am not interested in my character weed whacking your character’s lawn” than to waste their time with 10 posts of it before telling them, “I am not interested in my character weed whacking your character’s lawn.”)

The more you write, the easier it is.

Let’s talk about running again. A couple of years ago, I went on a bit of a kick with the running. I ran at least three times a week. I would bring my running shit with me to work so I could run in the park near my office. I would make running dates with friends. I would reward myself with a bagel from my favorite cafe if I did a run. And you know what? Once I got myself past the hurdle of pulling on my running clothes and lacing up my shoes, I enjoyed myself. When I ran 5k without slowing to a walk, I was proud of myself. When I told myself, “let’s do another loop at the park!” and stopped to take a photo of the sunset, I enjoyed myself. I would not have enjoyed myself if I hadn’t hit the goddamn pavement.

Put your ass in your fucking chair. I don’t care if you don’t have the right scented candle. Write 50 words. Right fucking now. I’ll wait.

Write another 50.

Now write another 100.

How long did that take you? Some days, it might take you 90 minutes to write 200 words. But that’s 200 more words than you would have written in 90 minutes of browsing Pinterest waiting for an angel to come down from heaven and write this post for you.

All that bullshit you do to Feed Your Muse? It’s stalling, you idiot.

The more you make yourself write instead of just thinking about writing, the easier it will be to actually fucking write.

I used to sit and stare at posts for hours and hours and hours before submitting them, so worried about the post being good enough. When I moved to a neighborhood with an aboveground train line, I was able to write on my morning commute, and writing every morning - even if only the 200 words I could crank out on mobile in 30 minutes before work - got me out of my weird writers block crutches and security blankets. It didn’t take as much effort to write, anymore. I wrote over 200,000 words in 2019, and over 300,000 words in 2020, when I had barely any commute at all to use on writing. I didn’t magically have endless hours of free time. I just wasn’t wasting my free time pretending that being on Tumblr counted as writing.

Tough love: doled out. And now:

TIPS & TRICKS FOR BEATING “””Writers Block”””

Stop acting like Writers Block is real. It’s not that it’s not real, but by telling yourself that you have Writers Block, you’re making it worse for yourself. You’re making excuses for yourself. I used Writers Block to stall writing my Topics in Creative Writing: Folktales portfolio for 3 months, and you know what happened? I still had to turn in the fucking portfolio, because the person I was writing for didn’t fucking care about my fucking Writers Block. And you know who had to sit her ass in a chair and write 30 pages of folktales in a 24 hour period? Me. It’s almost like my Writers Block was just PROCRASTINATION.

Set a timer. If you’re looking at your list of replies owed and you’re feeling like it might be easier to “do character dev” and “build a playlist” than to write your posts, break the task into smaller pieces. If your server has a sprint bot, use it. If not, set your own timer. Organize your list of threads with the ones you’ve owed replies on the longest at the top. Set your timer for 20 minutes and see how much you can write for the oldest post you owe. Not done? Set the timer for another 20 minutes. Keep setting that timer until that post is done and you can drop it in the tags channel. Now do the same for the second oldest. CRANK! THEM! OUT! If you find that it’s depleting your creative energy, that’s not unusual! When I get to this point in my own posting habits, my oldest replies owed are usually for Albus Dumbledore, a character I write specifically because I hate him. It is often easier to knock out all his posts in one chunk rather than shift voice, so this ends up working out nicely.

Don’t indulge your stupid stalling tactics. Do you typically get sidetracked by Pinterest? Put your phone away and close that tab. Do you get absorbed in lining up the perfect music for writing a post? Write in silence, asshole. Do you need to be in your favorite chair with the right lighting? Go sit on a park bench and write on mobile. It’s nice to write in idealized environments. I rented a treehouse last summer to write 10k on a novel! I get it! But you absolutely can write in other environments, if you have to. And if you can get yourself to write on a dark skin on your iPad at an airport in the Midwest while waiting for a flight - well, shit, think of how much you’ll be able to write on a laptop when your diva ass demands are properly met!

Don’t take on shit you don’t want to write. I fully admit that these tactics feel a bit like homework/chores/a to-do list for what is of course a fun hobby. You know how they say “love what you do and you’ll never work a day in your life?” If you don’t take on plots, characters, and threads that don’t have a lick of interest or excitement for you, this shit won’t feel like a hassle.

Hope this whips all you little miscreants (myself included) into shape! Now quit your yapping and start writing.

#rp guides #resources #writing resources #on writing #stop trying to make writers block happen. it's not going to happen.

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scarluxia · 4 years

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Let's talk about some Adventures I had in Phoenix, AZ in 2015. It came up in my FB Memories and even though I determined to let everything from last decade go, this one still rankles. I got "in trouble" with these people for being open about my experiences on my Facebook because, even though I hadn't mentioned names, they didn't like me "putting their business out there".

CW for ableism, depression, rejection sensitive dysphoria, and I'll try to put all that in the tags.

My partner, Loki (yes real name), and I had been urban camping in Portland, OR for about a month. It had gotten cold and rainy to the point where we couldn't safely stay living outdoors, and Loki's father (who didn't approve of me) had demanded he come back to California and live with Loki's uncle. He made it quite clear I was not welcome, so I ended up going to Arizona because I had a friend who was willing to put me up. She and I had known each other since 2008 and I figured I would be safe with her. At the time, Loki was much more easily influenced by what his family wanted, and we ended up having kind of a nasty set of conversations over whether he was abandoning me.

While in Portland, my wallet had been stolen so I had no ID or SS card. I had reported it stolen of course, but had received no response until I was leaving Arizona.

My friend in Arizona had two young sons, a husband, and a boyfriend. Now, I have some sensory issues that make it so I have a hard time being around children. High pitched noises hurt me to my bones, like, even now I have to leave the room if my son gets overly excited and starts shrieking.

I was sleeping on the couch in the living room, which was where the kids would go when they woke up and where the TVs and entertainment consoles were.

Anyway, they wanted me to contribute to the household and whatnot but I was severely depressed and I think I've provided all the context I can remember? If the rest of this doesn't make sense, please know that there was a part 1 but it came up in my Memories on a different day and i didn't think I would be rehashing it.

So I couldn't do work, couldn't do anything anyone had asked me to do to satisfaction because various things that did not, in fact, depend on me. Maybe I wasn't being enough of a ~team player~, I don't know. But anyway, I did my best with what I had. Sometimes, because of THE EXTREME FUCKING SENSORY ISSUES THAT COME WITH AUTISM, I would get overwhelmed by the kids screaming. Two little boys, barely school age, and their parents sat them in front of a TV and gave them controllers. That's it. They had toys in their room, sure, but they weren't getting outside. I suggested taking them out a couple times, but firstly, I didn't know the area and wasn't about to go out alone, and secondly, I can't split in half and I'm not in good shape, so even if I had known the area, I wouldn't have taken TWO small children outside to run around where they could run out of the designated area. I'm kind of anal that way, I guess. But Woman A (mum) and Man B ("uncle") never got off their arses to help me take them outside, and Man A was at work.

Oh, yes, parental interaction with the kids. Woman A loved her sons very much. But at their age (3 and 5), they both should have been toilet trained. They should have gotten at least two hours outside every day. They threw fits when they weren't allowed to play video games because, instead of games being a special treat that was earned with good behavior, they were toys carelessly tossed at the kids to keep them out of everyone's hair. Conversely, and bizarrely, reading to them WAS a special treat. The father woke up, played games, basically brushed off his kids, and went to work. Same when he got home for lunch, and he *ordered* us to have them in bed by the time he got home for good. The mum did somewhat interact with them, but mostly just wanted them out of her hair. I wasn't so nice because I'm not good with kids in general and also loud screeching HURTS, IT HURTS IT HURTS MAKE IT STOP. (Same with snoring, or any noise made when I want to sleep.) This isn't me being a ~diva~, it is an actual manifestation of a mental disability.

Woman A was of the opinion that "everyone who lives in a house with kids automatically becomes a coparent", maybe because she wasn't willing to actually parent her kids herself.

Note from the future: I still disagree with the idea that "anyone who lives in a house with kids is automatically a co-parent". Parent your own kids. I don't expect my dad to parent my son when we go visit him and he made it quite clear when I was pregnant that he would not take on a co-parenting role (because his wives 30-50 years ago had handled the babies and he doesn't really know how to calm them down beyond entertaining them)

She got a really bitchy look on her face whenever I (who have been around children, especially TROUBLED children, all my life) made any sort of suggestion. Well sorry, lady, but it's not like you're doing such a great job with them. Y'all act like you barely want anything to do with them. Like they're cute and little and fun to snuggle, but actually teaching them anything? Forget about it, just toss em a controller and hope they don't kill each other in the game or real life. Meanwhile, they have no outlet for their natural physical energy, no real outlet for their curiosity. They're going to grow up stupid and sedentary, with "no one paid attention to me during childhood except when it was convenient for THEM" to deal with. The older kid recently got on meds for a condition that, from what I observed, was likely much more nurture than nature. And what everyone ate, my God, those kids were the only non-overweight people in the house, and it's little wonder! I bought ACTUAL NUTRITIONAL food for everyone, and the adults look at me like I'm from some demon dimension. I made a light comment about how I'd never eaten anything like what they had growing up. You know, boxed potatoes, veggies out of a can, white bread, sugary peanut butter. And Woman A was like, "well YOU don't have kids."

Um, no, but my father did.

I have a kid now, am working part time at min. wage because my boss sees my performance as so-so (plus she's been forced to give me a raise every time the County of Where I Live raises the minimum), in a single-income household, on as much Family With Kids welfare as My County will allow, and I still wouldn't feed my kid that crap LOL

Spoiler alert: they made me use all my food stamps on their household and then kicked me out later that month so... When I bought food I bought HEALTHY food, like, I've been on food stamps my entire life... Also, WIC specifically pays for WHEAT bread, fruits & veggies, and they do let you get peanut butter without sugar so idk what was going on there with them.

My father was a SINGLE PARENT raising a daughter in America after 20 years of living in Europe and raising kids with his previous wives. Well, up until the divorces, anyway. I was the only kid he ever got to keep. He told me things about how the others had been raised compared to how I was raised, and I saw the outcomes of different parenting styles in my peers as well. My father was a very poor man whose trade had been outsourced and who struggled to support us for years. And yet, we never went hungry, and he never fed me boxed potatoes. Never fed me sugary peanut butter, white bread, or veggies out of a can.

Ok I understand canned veggies are better than no veggies, and not everyone can get fresh, but you CAN get frozen in AZ. I always had fresh or frozen growing up.

It wasn't because we were living in the lap of luxury. It's because...

HE FUCKING VALUED OUR HEALTH OVER CONVENIENT, CRAPPY, NUTRIENT-FREE FOOD!!!! This is not a difficult concept. He ALSO read to me every night, despite having what I now realise was a very grueling day at work just to put said healthy food on the table. I didn't get to watch TV or play computer games (edu-tainment, the only kind I was allowed) until after all my homework was done. I can't remember if I was a particularly active child, but I'm sure I had the OPTION!!!! TO GO OUT.

Meanwhile, when I was at various stages of my life, I met kids whose parents shunted them from guardian to guardian because they didn't want to deal with them, kids whose parents were kind and supportive but rubbish at enforcing discipline, kids whose parents were abusive in every kind of way, and kids whose parents did their best.

You know, I wasn't raised perfectly. My upbringing lacked social grace and included some toxic ideas about womanhood that I've only been learning to overcome recently in my adulthood. But DON'T FUCKING ACT LIKE I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT RAISING KIDS JUST BECAUSE I DON'T CURRENTLY HAVE ANY. I have my own life, the lives of my peers, and a wonderful online community of new parents raising children in kind and socially aware ways, to draw inspiration from. I can go to any one of them, and to my own parents, and ask "hey does X seem weird to you?" And they'll give me their honest opinion, which *is valuable*. I have even mapped out a general idea of how to get through some parts of my children's lives, and I'm not even planning to have kids for at least another few years. I mean, honestly, it used to be "I don't want kids ever", but dear gosh, if I can have any part of raising someone in a manner that defies procrastination culture, entitlement culture, and everything wrong with the way my husband and I were raised, maybe it wouldn't be a complete horror. If I can ensure that not all hope for the next generation is lost, hey.

Anyway, I've gone off topic...

I also had some issues with the men. Man B just didn't seem to like anything ever. I had no idea what Woman A saw in him. I remember one time he tried to tell me, a Christian, that I can't tell people what a "real Christian" is because it ~invalidates their identity~. Excuse me, no. It doesn't work that way. There are things that Christ taught, and anyone who blatantly goes against them IN THE NAME OF CHRISTIANITY, IS NOT A REAL CHRISTIAN. And yes, I realise this entire rant has been very judgey and technically I'm not supposed to do that either, but it's not like I'm saying they're going to Hell. Just that their kids are going to be sluggish and stupid, and I can't understand how these people have the gumption to try to lecture anyone else about life when they're not even TRYING to get their own lives together.

Yeah so they tried to lecture me about how I was "letting" Loki mistreat me and how I cared more about "socializing" with my estranged husband (I have separation anxiety) than helping around the house e_e They also implied I used depression as an excuse to be lazy.

Man B was supposedly "super employable." Well, okay, even though his "job hunt" seemed to consist more of sitting around playing video games, he was larger than my father (who is 6 ft tall with a protruding gut and weighs 240 lbs at last count) (My father and I are both 60 lbs above our ideal weights. But we're working on it!), and never seemed to get past the phone-screening process.

Now, Woman A told me that Man B was looking for work and that her family and some friends looked down on him for being a freeloader. Probably because she was anxious about me thinking the same. But here's the thing: I wouldn't have cared. Honestly. If you want to sit around playing games all day in your married girlfriend's apartment with her and her husband playing video games all day, go right ahead. If you want to bake three potatoes at a time and take them back to your room for a snack, hey, more power to you. But don't piss out the window and call it rain.

I don't care how employable you are, where you live, who you're living with, or what your lifestyle is like. It doesn't affect me in any way. But don't act like you're doing something you're not just to appease someone's judgmental family. That doesn't ever end well.

Now, see, I clearly have a problem with people who do that. I don't hide many aspects of myself, though I will refuse to answer a question if I feel it's none of someone's business or if they're just asking it to be a judgmental asshole. I refuse to compromise myself or my safe space to accommodate someone who can't make peace with who they are. Hell, you know me! You know my show!

Wait, this is Tumblr, so you might not know my show. It's a YouTube storyboard dedicated to processing and mocking some spiritual and psychological abuse I've undergone in my life. On Facebook, it was one of the things I was known for at the time because I was constantly posting clips and art, and trying to recruit voice actors.

I sell anyone out who I catch lying to me about anything! That's nothing new! And these people knew that about me. For SEVEN. FUCKING. YEARS.

So anyway. Woman A has a lot of great short term goals but no actual follow through because "I'm just not in the mood right now." No judgment there. I've totally been there. The only problem is when it gets ME in trouble.

"Let's walk the dog." "I'm not in the mood." Okay, then the dog doesn't get walked because I can't figure out my way around the place alone.

"Let's do the dishes." Woman A doesn't let me know when the washer stopped. Okay. Then the rest of the dishes don't get washed.

"Let's take the kids outside." "No I'm too tired." Okay, then they're going to be RUNNING AROUND THE APARTMENT SCREAMING WHICH MY EARS CANNOT FUCKING HANDLE so bye I'm just gonna borrow your room and isolate myself for a bit.

"Let's go to the gym!" "Maybe later." But later never comes.

Do you see where I'm going here? As for the men, they BOTH complain that they're "doing too much" around the house. Okay, probably fair for Man A, who works full time and deserves to come home to a clean house. But Man B. Wtf. You literally do nothing, except when you do, and when you do, we're meant to throw you a parade? That's not how adulthood works, or so I've heard.

Note: All three of these people are older than me. I was 24? at the time, fresh out of trade school, on my own for the first time in my life. (Maybe 2nd? I ran away when I was 17 but ended up with my grandparents so idk if that counts.) Woman A was 26 at the time and had been married since 2008, had experience with office work and parenthood, etc. Both men were older than her. I was a chronological adult with the life experience of a teenager, so I felt comfortable saying that.

So did I mention that I'm sleeping in the living room during this stay? And the adults don't go to bed until like 2 AM, which means, because of my disability, wherein I cannot sleep if there's any sort of non-ambient noise, *I* don't get to sleep until AFTER 2 AM. And the kids? They come in the living room screaming at 6 AM. Yep. Okay. Living on 4 hours of sleep, for the mathematically challenged. That and dealing with the emotional turmoil of being separated from my husband when I've got high separation anxiety in the first place. All my pain, everything, it's up to 11. and I'm supposed to contribute but there's not really anything that allows me to contribute.

So what do they do? They ambush me. Call a "family meeting" to tell me absolutely everything that's wrong with me, after WEEKS of telling me what a big help I am and how grateful they are to have me around. Tell me I'm letting my "social life" get in the way of me helping around the house. Hmm. Social life. You mean, VENTING IN MY SAFE SPACE (Facebook, no names named) AND TRYING TO MEND THINGS WITH MY HUSBAND??????????????? Okay. Well since you guys treat your woman like shit, you clearly don't understand or appreciate devotion to one's spouse. Seriously. Woman A told me she used to have extreme separation anxiety with Man A, and that he would brush off her emotions as irrelevant. Her solution was to make it a poly relationship and take a lover WHO TREATS HER THE EXACT SAME WAY. I'm serious. She got no emotional support from either of them. They basically just threw pills at her and trained her to lie down until her feelings went away.

And she had the gall to lecture me (24 at the time) about how Loki (19 at the time & from a pretty horrific family) treated me. LOL ok. Log. Splinter.

As she knew, I'm monogamous. I do have some opinions on polyamoury based on individuals I've gotten to know who are in those types of relationships, but those opinions are irrelevant to this series of rants. Except one, which is pertinent: if you're going to take another lover, they should provide something that your existing lover(s) don't. If you're suffering from low emotional support and you just find someone else who doesn't emotionally support you and who treats you like a child who can't be trusted??? What are you even DOING? Like, she told me NEITHER of her men trust her judgment. What the fuck is a relationship without trust? And don't even try "dick too bomb" as an excuse when you tell me you haven't gotten laid in months and your husband is using your condoms on Woman B.

They don't support you. They don't trust you. And yet YOU'RE telling ME that things with my husband won't get better unless I follow your lead and take another lover? HELL TO THE NO. My husband has his faults, but if I tell him Person X can be trusted, he believes me.

Except for his ex-girlfriend whom he tried to add to our relationship when he tried to be poly, months later. That went Badly.

Or maybe he just knows I'll deal with them myself, with my hot, hot temper, if they turn out not to be trustworthy. He also doesn't treat me LIKE A CHILD. And while I sometimes point at things and make small motions when I can't physically talk, or sometimes even use baby talk when I'm feeling cutesy, I DON'T POINT AT A PIECE OF PAPER AND GO "THE CARRRRRR!!!!" IN AN INCREASINGLY HIGHER PITCH BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW HOW TO SAY, "Honey, I think we missed the car payment this month. Can you double check while the agent has you on hold, please?"

Okay, being a dick about losing words due to stress was not my finest moment, but at the time, I was just so appalled by how they treated her and how she allowed them to treat me.

So basically these adults who are nowhere near having their lives together, and aren't even really trying, put me on blast for not having everything running perfectly when THEY expected it to.

Let's reiterate. I couldn't get a job because I had no ID or social security card. I was waiting for them to be returned to me. I couldn't walk the kids or the dog, go to the gym, or complete all the household chores because no one would guide me. I need that guidance because of various components of my disability, which I really hate admitting to because I'm super fucking prideful, but I figured hey, she's not neurotypical either. These people will understand.

Their response when I brought this up? "You're an adult. You should know better." Sure, okay. But you should know that a child ought to be potty trained before he turns 5, or even 3; that kids need to run around, are entitled to their parents' attention and consistent discipline, and need!!! healthy!!!! food!!!!

Oh, discipline! So, she would send Older Boy to his room over misbehaving. But rather than enforce time-out, she'd go, "oh, I think I'm being too haaaard on him," and just... Relinquish. He's not about to learn anything that way, ma'am.

They called me trying to reconnect with the person I love more than almost anyone on this earth "obsessing over your social life". Well again, you treat your woman like shit, so MAYBE my undying devotion to the person I love goes a LITTLE bit over your head.

They told me that the household should be my first priority. Except no, because I am an autonomous person and my FIRST PRIORITY is, was, and ever has been the love of my life, whomever that may be at the time. That is 70% of my personality. I'm pretty sure anyone who had ever met me can vouch for my extreme devotion, and this woman had known me for SEVEN. YEARS. I'm not going to throw away 70% of myself to do an impossible task that no one will help me with.

They told me a lot of things I wasn't doing right, and for those of you who also struggle with anxiety and depression, you know that being told for weeks that everything is okay and you're so great and so helpful, and then being told that you're rubbish at everything... You know that that is hurtful. Devastating, even. I wanted to kill myself. I said that. I said that and expressed my feelings about some other things, in my safe space, without naming any names.

And even though I was posting in my safe space, I was polite about it. I was as gentle and rational as possible. I wasn't calling anyone out. Not like I am now. I wasn't trying to lead a witch hunt. I was just overwhelmed and trying to express my feelings. Trying to get myself not to kill myself. I had to tell myself over and over again that it's not what Loki would want for me.

In the morning, they woke me up and kicked me out. Said it was rude for me to say I don't care about their household. I never, NEVER said that. I said "Loki is my first priority." Something along the lines of "that's just how I am and I shouldn't be vilified for it." That doesn't mean I DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE. IT JUST MEANS THAT MY PRIORITIES WILL *NEVER* BE WHAT SOMEONE ELSE WANTS THEM TO BE. I AM A PERSON. I HAVE THE RIGHT TO DECIDE WHAT TO PRIORITISE, AND I HAVE THE RIGHT TO LOVE MY HUSBAND!!!

I MEAN, FOR FUCK'S SAKE. MY NAME IS *SIGYN*. WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU IGNORANT ASSHOLES EXPECT?! WHY THE HELL SHOULD YOU HAVE FELT THREATENED BY ME SAYING ANYTHING IF I DIDN'T NAME NAMES AND WAS ACTUALLY RATIONAL? IF YOU SAW THIS, *MAYBE* YOU WOULD HAVE THE RIGHT TO BE PISSY, BUT NOT THEN!

They kicked me out after having asked me to buy them all food. I had used up all my food stamps. Because I hadn't anticipated this at all. I hadn't known they would take such offence to my existence, to my ways. To the fact that I value the man I married more than I value... Whatever they wanted me to value, I guess.

Fun fact: I ended up in a women's shelter after this, and one woman told me to actually kill myself because she was tired of hearing me cry at night.

They said I hadn't made any effort to get my life on track. Because I can just snap my fingers and make my ID appear. Because I can just manifest the money for a replacement. They said all these things that left me almost unable to breathe, in retaliation for me posting that I was suicidal.

Later, Woman A told me that this had been a long time coming and that they were trying to make room for Woman B and Woman C, both of whom were willing to have sex with the men, which is something that I would not. I feel the first woman I met at the shelter was accurate when she said they basically kicked me out because I wouldn't sleep with them.

I also later found out that my ID and SS card had been returned to sender. The Portland PD called me and told me. So my father came to the conclusion that the people I had been staying with sabotaged me from the start. For a while, I didn't feel it, but last night I dreamed about it, and the dream made me angry. I didn't deserve to be treated that way. And I really had to get all this off my chest, so for those of you who didn't immediately whip out your tiny violins, thank you.

#ableism #depression #rejection sensitive dysphoria #sensory sensitivity #child neglect #child abuse #resource insecurity?#i forgot about the part where someone tried to mansplain Christian gatekeeping to me #emotional abuse #polyamory but make it toxic #suicidal ideation

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idiotacadamia · 4 years

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Book Review

Book: Fahrenheit 451

Author: Ray Bradbury

Genre: Dystopian, Science Fiction

Stars: 4 ½ stars

Fun Fact: This fact isn't really fun but it is quite creepy. The inspiration for the book came from Adolf Hitler. When Bradbury was asked about it he said, “Well, Hitler, of course. When I was 15, he burned the books in the streets of Berlin. Then along the way I learned about the libraries in Alexandria burning 5000 years ago. That grieved my soul. Since I'm self-educated, that means my educators—the libraries—are in danger. And if it could happen in Alexandria, if it could happen in Berlin, maybe it could happen somewhere up ahead, and my heroes would be killed,’

Actual fun fact: Fahrenheit 451 has been banned in some schools. Schools who are completely unaware of the irony in doing so.

What is the book about? No spoilers!

Guy Montag is a fireman. In his world, books are illegal and his job is to burn them as well as the houses that contain them. Montag never questions his habits of destruction until he runs into Clarrise, his eccentric young neighbour who introduces him to their past, where firemen supposedly put out fires instead of starting them. When his wife attempts suicide and Clarrise disappears, he suddenly questions everything he has ever known.

Did I enjoy the book? Why/ why not?

I really enjoyed this book for several reasons. Not only was it one of my favourite genres (dystopian) but it was fast paced and kept my interest during the majority of the book. I was quite nervous at the concept of the book and how the author was going to portray it. However after reading it, I was pleasantly surprised with how well it was written and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I would recommend this book to readers who enjoy dystopian novels and would like to read a classic. I think the writing style is quite easy to understand however the fast pacing of the book can sometimes throw you off.

What would I improve about this book?

While this book was a pretty amazing book all round, I did have a few issues with it. Sometimes when describing things, the author got too caught up in it and it would completely baffle me. He could have been trying to build suspense in not actually naming what he was describing but it felt more of a hunk of information that confused you rather than a suspenseful build up. I think he does this a lot during this book which is a shame because the rest of it is so beautifully written in my opinion.

What would I add? Spoilers!

I'm not really sure how I feel about the way he formatted the sections of the book. While I think it definitely helped me ( the world's biggest procrastinator) read the book faster, it only did so because I hate putting a book down in the middle of a chapter. But the lack of chapters did put me off at first. I definitely would NOT KILL CLARISSE. However, that's me coming at this with my reader mindset and not my writer mindset. I think we all get emotional to say the least, when your favourite character is presumed dead by a really annoying twat.

What was my favourite part?

While I liked Part 1, Part 2 really captured my heart. I feel that the eerie and uncomfortable feeling that Bradbury created in Part 1 almost put me off the book entirely but looking at the book overall, that scene development did a lot for setting the tone for the book. My favourite part in particular though is definitely the end of Part 2 and beginning of Part 3. Montag and Beatty are driving to a house to burn it and right at the last moment of that part, Montag is hit with the realisation that they have pulled up right outside his own house. I in a way, felt this moment foreshadowing. I felt that it was going to happen eventually however my predictions originally were that Beatty was going to make Montag burn down Faber’s house. I was really prepared to feel some angst but then BOOM! They are outside Montag's house and the beginning of Part 3 has Mildred ( Montag's wife) fleeing the house! You find that Mildred called the alarm on her own house and husband and then ran away. I was really pleased to find that the suspense that Bradbury built up for this part was not put to waste. I really was put into that feeling or possibility that something is going to go awfully wrong very very soon.

Who was my favourite character? Why?

My favourite character was Clarisse. She reminded me of looking at the historical and philosophical side of things which I think is really necessary to be able to make judgments that are supposedly morally ‘correct’. She was super eccentric and seemed like the kind of person who didn’t let the judgements of people around her influence the way she behaved or saw things which again is really important to me. She has this really calm and omniscient kind of vibe which I feel that this book really needed. Unfortunately, we don’t get to see any sort of character development within her because she is killed off within Part 1- The Hearth and the Salamander. However, I really loved seeing how her words really influenced Guy Montag and his entire outlook on life. This book without her would have never happened.

Who did you hate? Why?

I didn't ‘hate’ Mildred but she reminded me of everything I never wanted to become. I have to say that I was really mad at Montag when he slapped her. I really couldn’t stand violence between 2 people who are meant to ‘love’ each other, even though Montag and Clarisse establish from early on that they don’t really love each other. I think my main reason hating Mildred wasn’t her neediness but her great betrayal on her husband. I didn’t have any strong feelings until Part 3, Burning Bright when I found out that Mildred called the alarm on her own husband and then proceeded to run away from the house. As someone who really believes in loyalty, I was furious. I feel that that move Mildred made was really cowardly. However, I do stand with the fact that at the beginning, Mildred is portrayed in quite a bad lighting. Bradbury tries to portray her to show that she is a bad wife for forgetting important things such as when she and Montag first met or how she is obsessed with watching TV to the extent where she calls them family. I think that the way Bradbury portrayed her was trying to hide that she was seriously unhappy with her life and in a way depressed. Bradbury portrays Mildred as a shell of a human being devoid of any sincere emotional, intellectual or spiritual substance and I really hated that. I feel that Mildred had the potential to be a great character but she is purposely portrayed to be cold, distant and unreadable. She, in a way, is what was considered to be the ‘perfect wife’ at the time of this being written and yet you witness how she buries all emotions of despair and emptiness deep inside of her because she is afraid to come to the realisation that she, just like her husband, is unhappy and sees no purpose to living. Bradbury really tries to emphasise that Mildred is much less satisfied with her life by having her attempt suicide and then proceed to have no memory of it; which further intails the severity of Mildred’s behaviour. She watches TV obsessively to hide her lack of feeling and despair within herself and has therefore created great attachments with the people on said TV to the point where she associates them as ‘Family’. I disliked Mildred because she had so much potential but instead Bradbury uses her character to portray betrayal.

Was the book predictable?

Other than predicting that Montag would definitely read some books, a lot of the things that occurred within this book took me by surprise. In fact, going into this book, I knew nothing except that books were illegal and firemen were meant to burn them. I remember gasping when realised that Mildred was getting her stomach pumped because she attempted suicide. I was more comfortable reading this due to my history in reading this genre. I was expecting a big twist like in many books in a similar genre but I simply had no idea what it was going to be. The book definitely kept me gripped and I didn’t feel like I had to push myself to read it which is always a good thing when reading. The overarching plot was simple, books are banned and this dude is going to go and read some books. Like most books it had small plots intertwined to keep it moving. Bradbury does an excellent job at this because the plots are all related and don’t overcomplicate.

How did you feel about the ending?

This may have not been my favourite part. In fact at first I didn’t like the ending however after much consideration, I have very different opinions. I understand that Bradbury tries to illustrate violence throughout the novel and the beginning of the war depicts the new extremes of violence which destroys society and its infrastructure. The ending altogether shows the inevitable self-destruction of such an oppressive society and yet a glimmer of hope. I love how it feels so relevant to the situation today. The mass majority of us are part of a minority whom are oppressed, whether you are of colour, female or queer and many more. Bradubury foreshadows that if we oppress what actually creates our society, if we oppress those with different views, if we oppress those who are different, out of the fear that they will overcome us, we are bound to self-destruct. Those who today feel safe by suppressing those of colour or muslims because they are ‘terrorists’ or ‘thugs’ or ‘drug dealers’ will be the ultimate downfall of themselves. Remember ‘Security is mortals chiefest enemy’ as Hecate said.

What do you think about the character and scene development?

As this book was not very hard to understand, I feel like I didn’t pay much attention to the development of the characters and scenery (thank god for my notes). Looking back at the character of Guy Montag, I feel that it didn’t fulfill the potential it was given during Part 1. This may be because of the fact that when starting the book, the reader witnesses Montag change his mind about burning books quite quickly. I would have loved to see more resistance to his curiosity or more loyalty to the ‘law’ . However, I do think that the development you witness later on later on in Parts 2&3 is much better. We witness Montag lose complete control as he becomes more erratic and inarticulate; thus the results of his actions are quite horrific; for example, when he finds himself burning his captain (Beatty) to death. However, it also gives us a glimpse into his deepest desires to rebel against the status quo and find a meaningful way to live.

Favourite quote?

This was super hard to choose. In fact are so many quotes from this book that I felt were absolutely amazing so I will definitely be posting those separately from this. My all time favorite quote though was

“What is there about fire that is so lovely? No matter what age we are, what draws us to it?” -

Beatty, Part II - The Sieve and the Sand.

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supergirl-fanfiction · 5 years

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Secrets

Nia Nal x Reader

Requested by @piratesbelongatsea

Hi 👋 Can you write Reader and Nia are dating but R doesn't know that Nia is dreamer. Later R finds out or Nia tells reader (your choice)

Hopefully you like this. It is my first time writing a Nia Nal x Reader and I hope I did this justice.

(Y/N)- Your Name

Warnings- Language

You and Nia had been met each other through Kara. You had thought she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. You were a flustered stuttering mess around her in the beginning. Her smile, her laugh, the way she was so passionate about the things she cared about had made you fall for her so quick you hadn't even realized what had happened until it was too late. She had gained your heart without even trying. What you dint know was that she felt the same way as you but she was scared because she held quite a few secrets. Eventually though you had gained the courage to ask her on a date. You had been extremely nervous and terrified that she was going to reject you. She hadn't though and one date turned into many dates. She felt as though you deserved the truth though or at least part of the truth and so even though she was scared of how you might react she decided to tell you one of the secrets that she held so very close. You could remember that day clearly. She had been so nervous and rambled on about she would understand if you wanted to leave her. You had pulled her close to you and kissed her softly. You couldn't even imagine ever wanting to leave her. After she had pulled away from the kiss she blurted out that she was a trans woman. You had been shocked but at the look of fear in her eyes you had quickly pulled her into another kiss. You loved her and that meant all of her. You told her just as much and she had just stared at you in surprise. She had thought that maybe you would feel betrayed but you had just taken it in stride. How could you not though? She was the most amazing, brave, and strong woman you had ever met and this just made you realize how truly amazing, brave, and strong she was. That had only been a couple of months ago and you had thought the two of you were stronger than ever but lately it seemed like she was always too busy for you now. You had tried setting up dates only for her to end up extremely late or cancel. You were worried that maybe you had said something or done something wrong. You did have a bit of a habit of putting your foot in your mouth and not realizing it. You began to think over everything you had said and done before Nia became distant but you couldn't remember doing or saying anything wrong. You hoped she would eventually come to you and talk about whatever was causing her to be distant so you tried to be patient. You wanted her to come to you when she ready. You didn't want to push her. Eventually though after she ended up skipping date night without calling or texting causing you to become extremely worried you decided to approach her about it. You needed some kind of answers about why she was distant. You woke up early to go over to her apartment hoping to catch her before she disappeared wherever she had been going to lately. Once you made it to her apartment you knocked on the door, surprised and happy that Nia had answered the door.

"Hey Nia. Can we talk please? I'm really worried about you." You said hoping she would let you in. She seemed to debate it for a second before noosing and opening the door more for you. You quickly walked inside her apartment before she could change he mind. You sat down on the couch and tried to organize your thoughts so you wouldn't say the wrong thing.

"Did I do or say something wrong Nia? If I did I am truly sorry and if you explain whatever I said or did I will try my hardest to not repeat my mistake." You said softly your voice cracking. You were trying to keep your emotions under control but it was hard because seeing her in front of you made you truly realize how much you would lose if you lost her.

"What! Of course not (Y/N). What would make you think that babe?" She asked you confusion clear in her voice. You bit your lip trying to contain the tears that wanted to escape from your eyes out of pure relief. You hadn't done or said anything to make her so upset she avoided you. Thank god. Since you weren't the reason that she had become distant than what was though?

"You've just been so distant love. You either cancel our dates or show up extremely late. Then yesterday night you completely skipped the date and didn't call or text me. I was really worried about you. You know you can tell me anything right? You can trust me Nia. No matter what is going on we can get through it together. You have to tell me what's going on first though." You told her. Her jaw dropped open and she tried to say something but nothing came out. You began to worry. What if the reason she had become distant was because she no longer loved you. The thought instantly broke your heart. You loved her with everything you were. Nia on the other hand was debating if she should tell you that she was Dreamer or not. She didn't want you to hate her for keeping such a huge secret from you. Yet, when she had told you about her being a trans woman you hadn't been upset that she had hid it from you. You were just happy she felt safe enough and trusted you enough to reveal that part of herself to you.

"Do you not love me anymore? Is that why you are distant?" She heard you ask with a watery voice. She felt the panic enter her body. Is that what you thought? She couldn't stop herself from blurting out,

"I'm Dreamer and I have been fighting crime with Supergirl. I dint want to tell you because I was scared of how you would react and that if anyone found out you knew they would use you against me and if you were ever hurt because of me (Y/N) I would never forgive myself." She had said all of that so quickly you had barely managed to catch it. Once her words registered with you a look of shock overcame your face. Your girlfriend was Dreamer. The new badass superhero of National City.

"I'm dating Dreamer." You whispered in awe "HOLY SHIT! My girlfriend is Dreamer. Babe you're a badass." You told her excitedly as you looked at her. It was her turn to be overcome with shock. You weren't upset, in fact you actually seemed in awe and excited about the fact that she was Dreamer. Once she had overcome her shock a soft smile appeared on her lips. She should have known you would react like this. You had always been the most supportive and understanding person she had ever had in her life. She leaned towards you and kissed you slowly. neither one of you pulled away until your lungs were burning and begging for air. You smiled at her and placed a kiss on her forehead. You're girlfriend was not only one of the strongest women you had ever met but now, well now she was a certified badass. You really had scored the jackpot with her.

"I love you." You had whispered your love for her coating your voice as you leaned in for another kiss. While you had so many questions for your girlfriend you decided that they could wait until later. For now you were just going to enjoy the feeling of her lips on yours.

A/N- I am being a huge procrastinator right now and am doing anything and everything I can to avoid my school work right now lol so if you have a prompt idea you would like done relatively soon send it in and it will more than likely be posted by the end of tonight.

#nia nal x reader #dreamer x reader #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #fluff #nicole maines

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simplygojo · 6 years

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killer queen - chapter six

Series summary : Y/n, a native to London England, gets asked by the legend himself, Freddie Mercury, to help manage the band. Obviously she accepts, and it ends up being the best decision she’s ever made. Quickly she becomes close with each member of band, Roger Taylor specifically…

Chapter Summary : After getting back from the USA Scott finally asks you out, but there are some complications...

Word Count : 2.4k

Pairings : Ben!Roger Taylor x Reader

Warnings : Swearing.

a/n - I procrastinated posting this chapter so much bc I don’t really like it but HERE YOU GO!!!! Also I’m saving the roger gifs for LATER CHAPTERS!!

You stepped aside and let Roger walk into your room, worry overcoming you. “Roger just spit it out, you’re scaring me,” you told him as your eyes scanned over him, waiting for some sign of what he was about to say. Roger knew what he wanted to tell you. He wanted to tell you that he fell for you, that he’s never liked a girl like this in his life. He wanted to hold your face in his hands and kiss you, over and over again. He wanted to be with you. But he knew that if he told you that, it would ruin everything, you finally found a nice guy who seemed to make you happy. Roger let out a sigh and looked at the ground. “Rog, what’s wrong?” You asked as you walked towards him. He looked at you and spoke quickly, as if to stop you from coming any closer to him. “The plane is coming earlier tomorrow, 7am,” he said, his voice cracking a bit. “Make sure you tell Scott,” he said before walking out the door and disappearing down the hall. You stood there for a moment in shock, you knew that he meant to tell you something different. You walked over to your bed and pulled the covers over your eyes as an attempt to force yourself to go to sleep, but it didn’t help. You couldn’t sleep all night. You stayed awake thinking of what Roger could have meant to tell you, but nothing came to mind. That morning you grabbed your suitcase and put on some sunglasses before heading down to the lobby. None of the boys were seen down there, they must have left before you. That’s when you heard Scotts voice from behind you. “Y/n!” He called, with a huge smile on his face as he approached you. “One coffee for you,” he said as he handed you the warm paper cup. You hummed as you took a sip. “I needed this, I didn’t sleep a wink last night,” you told him and he put his arm around you as you two began to walk out of the lobby. “That’s what the shades are for. I thought you were just making a fashion statement,” he said and you looked up at him. “And if I was?” You asked playfully. He rolled his eyes and planted a kiss on your forehead. “It’s not working,” he laughed and you gave him a playful shove as you laughed. “Oi! I thought I was doing something!” You shouted, laughing between words. Scott looked at you with a huge grin and shook his head. “Shove me again and you’ll feel the wrath of Scott Hannigan,” he said putting his hands on his hips. You walked up to him and gave him another playful shove. “That’s it y/n!” He yelled and picked you up which made you drop your suitcase and start laughing. “Alright! Alright, we need to get a cab or we’ll miss the plane!” You said which made him put you down and wave down a cab. The two of you got into the cab and headed off to the airport. The two of you did nothing but talk and laugh the whole ride there. He was the perfect guy, handsome, nice, funny, and smart. He was so perfect and it still didn’t feel right.

Once the two of you arrived at the airport and boarded the private jet you finally saw the boys. “Hey!” You smiled and instantly let go of Scotts hand to go hug Freddie. “Hello darling.” He said and you went to go bring Brian and John in for a hug too. They laughed and hugged you back. You looked around a frowned a bit. “Where's Rog?” You asked as you looked at Brian. Briand and Freddie exchanged glances before he answered you. “He’s gonna nap alone on the way back home, he said specifically for us not to talk to him.” Brian said with a sad look on his face. You sighed and looked down. “Why? D-Did I say something?” You asked, almost hurt that he didn’t want to spend time with you anymore. “No! Y/n it’s not you. He’s just-” “Tired.” John added to what Brian started. You gave them both a trying smile and nodded. “Whatever you say.” You mumbled before walking over to Scott who was talking with Freddie about god knows what. “Hey, let’s go sit down.” You said as you laced your fingers with his. He smiled at you and nodded. The two of you sat down on two seats across from Freddie and John, while Brian went in the back to check on Roger. The four of you chatted, Scott’s arm around you as you watched the sky from out the window. You sighed and closed your eyes, zoning out the conversation Scott was having with the boys. You shut your eyes and fell asleep, instantly per the normal. Scott and the boys continued to talked the whole plane ride back to England. Once you finally landed you felt someone shaking your shoulder. “Roger?” You mumbled under your breath as you squeezed your eyes shut and then opened them. When your vision finally became clear again you saw Scott smiling down on you, and your heart almost dropped. Despise that you smiled at him and stood up. “Scott! Are we home?” You asked him as you stretched your arms out. He chuckled and wrapped his arm around your shoulders as the two of you began to walk off the plane. “Yeah, we’re home sweet home.” He said as you smiled over to him. “Where are the boys?” You asked, worry overcoming you. Had they forgotten you? Did they not want you around them anymore. “Woah, calm down! Why are you getting so worked up y/n? They went to go grab our bags.” He said rolling his eyes. “Now come on, I’m taking you out for dinner.” He told you with a bit of a smirk. You shot him a smile as he dragged you through the airport and to a hotel room. “Scott, I just wanna go home.” You whines as you walked into the room and sat down on the bed. He pulled your suitcase out from a closet and put it gently on the bed beside you. “Come on, get changed, I’m taking you on a real date.” Scott said cheerfully. You groaned and picked up a little red dress from your suitcase and walked to the bathroom to change. You changed and looked at yourself in the mirror. “Ha, if he thinks I’m gonna do my makeup he’s got another thing coming.” You muttered to yourself as you combed through your hair with your fingers and walked out of the bathroom. “You look gorgeous.” Scott said. He was dressed up in a black suit and tie and held a single rose in his hand. You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t help smile. “What’s this?” You asked as you walked over to him. “I’m taking you on a real date, and I’m asking you, officially, to be my girlfriend. We clicked instantly when we started talking at the concert, and I just want to get to know you more. Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?” Scott said, the last question in a joking tone as he got down on one knee. “Oh my god, get up!” You laughed as you tugged at his hand. He laughed and stood up. “So is that a yes?” He asked, raising his eyebrow as he held both your hands in one of his. “No one’s ever been so formal bout it, but yeah.” You laughed. Scott smiled and put his hands on your lower back as he kissed you softly. “Okay now let’s go to dinner!” You took the rose from his hand and walked out of the door. The restaurant was attached to the hotel and was very fancy. The two of you walked in and the hostess took the two of you to a booth. You and Scott talked for an hour, just about random things like your trip to France and his trip to Italy. You were laughing or at least smiling the whole time, Scott was one of the funniest guys you had ever met. After you finished your dinner Scott insisted on paying, so you let him, and then the two of you walked back up to the hotel room. “You know I do have my own flat, right?” You asked him as the two of you walked into the room. He nodded. “Yeah, but I thought hotel rooms were more romantic.” He said, you did not fully agree but just dropped the subject. He walked up to you and held your face in your hands before giving you a sweet kiss and walking into the bathroom. “I’m exhausted! Can’t wait to get to bed.” You heard him say from the bathroom. You stood there for a moment in confusion. This was not how your usual dates ended. “Uh-Okay.” You said. You walked over to your suitcase and picked up your pyjama shorts and oversized white tee. Scott walked out of the bathroom and smiled at you before saying, “Your turn, y/n.” Your jaw dropped a bit as you watched him crawl into bed nonchalantly. You groaned and walked into the bathroom. “You’re turn? We’re not 12 year old girls, we can use the bloody bathroom at the same time.” You mutter quietly to yourself as you changed into your PJ’s. You turned on the tap and put both hands on the counter, staring yourself in the eyes. “Why doesn’t he want to sleep with me?” You asked. “No, no, no, he wants to sleep with me, he is just being a gentleman. A nice human being.” You said as a form of convincing yourself as you splashed water on your face. “Ugh, I gotta go talk to someone.” You groaned as you walked out of the bathroom and looked over at Scott, who was fast asleep. You rolled your eyes and walked into the hallway and down to the lobby, in your bare feet and pyjamas just to find a phone. Once you finally found one you dialed a number and prayed that someone would answer. You heard John’s voice on the other line and thanked God. “Deaky! Oh my god where are you? I don’t care, please come to the hotel that is around the corner from the airport. I need someone.” You said and heard a laugh on the other line. “I’m with Bri and Fred, they’re coming too. Be there in 10.” he said before hanging up. You gave a sigh of relief and leaned against the wall before putting the phone back on the hook. You stood there and waited, people judging you as they walked past but you couldn’t care less.

Finally they got here and you waved at them to follow you. You pulled the three of them into a family bathroom and put your hands on your forehead, slowly sliding them back and into your hair. “Bloody hell what’s wrong now?” Brian asked, almost sounding frustrated. You glared at him and pointed your finger at him. “You do not get to be frustrated here!” You said firmly to Brian who put his hands up in defence. “What’s up y/n?” John asked you softly. You sighed in a response. “Scott doesn’t want to have sex with me.” You told them, wrapping your arms around yourself. “My own god damn boyfriend doesn’t want to have sex with me. Maybe he doesn’t think I’m sexy-” “That’s definitely not it darling. You are positively gorgeous.” Freddie added. You smiled sweetly at him. “I just, I don’t want that to be the reason I break up with him. He’s the only guy who has ever actually cared and had feelings for me and I-” “No, not the first, Rog was gonna ask you ou-” Brian’s eyes went wide as he put a hand over John’s mouth. “What Deaky was saying was-” You glared at Brian again. “No, let him finish.” You said sternly as you tore Brians hand from John’s face. “You were saying?” You asked as you looked at him. John didn’t answer for a moment, his eyes darted from you, Brian and Freddie before he finally gave an answer. “Rog really likes you, he has feelings for you.” Your jaw dropped and you looked at the ground for a moment. Brian and freddie groaned. “Deaky! That was between the boys!” Brian said before you held a finger up and shushed him. “Since when?” You asked, and Deaky just shook his head no as a response. “Deaky...tell me.” “Don’t tell her.” Brian said quickly. “Tell me.” “Don’t.” “Tell me!” John’s eyes darted from you and Brian each time you spoke until he squeezed them shut. “Since halfway through the tour!” He shouted. You looked at John and then let out a frustrated sigh. “No. You-you can’t just come here and tell me that Roger has feelings for me. I’m in a relationship! And I’m happy!” You said to the three of them. “I mean if you don’t have feelings for him then all should be well.” Brian said shrugging. “I don’t have feelings for Roger.” You said crossing your arms over your chest. “None. At. All.” You told them and they nodded. “Want to know why? Because I have a loving boyfriend named Scott Hannigan, that treats me nice and-” You cut yourself off as you remembered the reason why you called the boys in the first place. “We don’t need convincing y/n, he get it, I’ll just tell Rog-” Brian began and you pointed your finger at him. “No! No, no, no, no, you will not tell Roger anything.” You said as you began pacing. “He does not need to know that I know.” You told him and suddenly stopped in your tracks. “Bloody hell I need to get back to my boyfriend.” You groaned and looked at the boys. “Thanks for coming guys! Love you!” You yelled as you jogged to the elevators and back to your room.

After finally finding your room you quietly opened the door and tiptoed your way to the bed. You crawled in, trying with all your might not to wake up Scott, who was peacefully sleeping. As you looked at him your mind began to drift off to what things might be like if you decide to date Roger. What things might have been like if you had just kissed him that night backstage, if you were were sleeping in his bed instead of a cheap hotel bed. As you thought these things, your eyes began to shut and eventually, you fell asleep.

Series Taglist : @triggeredpossum @june-uk @toger-raylor @antoouu @ironicsecretfae @harrysniallpolish @s-e-l-e-c-t-i-v-e-listener @creativedogs @wvnhedas @rockyroadthepastryarchy @sweetdayme4427 @pietrorunsforme @coltonthekanima @anna1523 @fandomshit6000 @shutup-sorry @a-crowd-of-newsies @butterfliesflewaway @mydogisthebest @ultrunning @unicorntrooper @digicharr @howmanymoregalileos @sargent-barnes

#roger taylor x reader #ben hardy x reader #bohemian rhapsody #roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #rami malek #freddie mercury #ben hardy #brian may #brian may x reader #softlyhardy #bohemian rapsody movie #killer queen #series

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queenangst · 5 years

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advice for high school??

advice for high school:

put yourself out there. i know high school is big and scary, but it's new. you're going to know people who you've seen all your life and people who you have never met before, probably. don't be afraid. sit next to someone new in chemistry and... bond. ask to squeeze in a lunch spot. smile at your teachers, say hello. join clubs. it's 2-4 years of your life, so find your people.

stop thinking about the numbers. this is one of the hardest things when you're surrounded by a pressured environment from all sides - teachers, students, parents. but let me tell you that you have to learn when to care and when to not. which times to fight and which times to let go. you might get your first 35 on a test. you might be ranked far behind your other classmates. not every homework has to be done well, just done at all. not every grade has to be an A, because in the end higher academic institutions care less than you think and not every "bad" grade is the end of the world. and if you don't do so hot on something, feel a little bad and then keep going. no use in dwelling, just do better next time. (sometimes just give up. don't do an assignment. take the 0. sometimes you need the time, or the break, and it's not worth doing.)

freedom. high school is the first taste of bigger opportunities in learning. choose classes you might have an interest in over what will boost your gpa or whatever. take art, take music, something creative, even if you are a stem student through and through, you don't have to do well but this will enrich your life and give your brain something different that isn't numbers or grammar or whatever. and creativity fosters community.

communicate with your teachers. some teachers accept nothing late ever period. some teachers procrastinate. actually a lot of teachers procrastinate they're really just like you. whatever the case talk to them. if you're having trouble understanding high school teachers often have some form of out of class tutoring/tutorials before, after, and even during school (such as at lunch). if you are sick, if you want them to look over a paper, if you need an extra day to finish your project and make it good, talk to your teachers. they want you to succeed. they cannot always be lenient for personal or academic reasons, but they will understand. and them knowing is better than them not.

get sleep. i mean it. 6 hours at least. 7 is good. 8+ is best. if you can't, at least sleep for some amount of time even if it's 30 minutes. if you can't sleep, still lie down for a bit in the dark and let your body rest even if your mind won't shut off. you will thank yourself in the morning.

do your damn homework. just do it. there's a lot, some of it is useless, but a lot of it is not. homework is meant to help you retain the info that you learned in class, or even learn more info that you will not cover in class.

on top of #6, read the textbook and listen in class. sometimes it's boring. just do it. you don't have to take notes but they definitely help, and notes never have to be pretty they just have to be legible to you. it can be bullet points. it can be diagrams. it can be a treasure map of weird associations. draw angry faces next to notes about dead historical figures. whatever works for you.

teachers are resources. ask if you can record lectures. see if they have a google classroom or someplace online where they post notes and powerpoints. ask for websites and further reading. ask for HELP.

study a lot, have fun a lot. i know every day is limited and you're going to be tired all the time. i know. i was there. ib was working us to the bone from the moment we went in to the very last exam. but on the weekends and after school, every now and then do something with your friends that isn't going through your math homework together. see a movie. get coffee, or boba, or tea, or whatever the hell y'all drink these days. go to a museum. find free activities. swim. talk to your friends outside of an academic environment and you will be closer and dearer. and you will not regret it.

you're allowed to disagree with your authority figures. so parents/guardians/teachers. don't overstep your boundaries but as you learn and grow there will be times that they are wrong and you are right. in many different situations... but most especially about you yourself, a person.

reach out. talk to someone when you're hurt. theres going to be a lot of new experiences in high school and some of them will be bad. please talk to your friends. your parents if you can. talk to a teacher you trust. sometimes school counselors suck but part of the job, regardless of if they are doing well or not, is listening to you, and it's meant to be confidential. and if you're worried about someone else for gods sake talk to an adult.

you are still a kid. please don't stress too much about matters that are bigger than you and things that are too much for you to control. you are almost an adult but you are not, you are grown up but you are not. do kid things. you don't need to be super strong, or super mature, or act ten years older than you are. you don't need to prove anything.

pursue your interests, and good things will follow. i mean this in every sense. your health. your mind. your attitude. your college applications. (seriously, everyone has done the volunteer hours and everyone has the grades and everyone has what you have. show that you're human.)

be awkward. be weird. there are so many different kinds of people but someone will be like you, and someone will like you. be happy, and others will see it.

don't put your burdens unnecessarily on other people. or yourself. here's the truth: if all you talk about is how bad you are, how you aren't getting anywhere in life, how the numbers aren't good enough, then no one will stick around for long. you will surround yourself in something bad that people don't want to be around. like mentioned, talk to someone. friends are the most comfortable but not always the most appropriate. im not saying to keep your thoughts to yourself, but adults > other emotional, struggling, hormonal teenagers in terms of being equipped to handle tough situations. people want to help! but when all you talk about is yourself and your trouble, and not listen to other people, talk about things that make you happy... you're going to lose something.

college is a big deal but also not. please don't worry about it until junior and senior year.

failure is inevitable. take it.

surround yourself with people who are better than you, and who you like, and who like you. surround yourself with people who you aspire to be similar to. you will do better and you will want to do better.

keep organized. good god. please do not be like that one guy in my math class. one day my classmate and i got so fed up we cleaned out his backpack for him and shoved things into folders and begged him to stay organized. folders. binders. accordian folders. just use something im pleading you. it's going to be 2 minutes before class and you realize you can't find your homework or turn in a wrinkled, stained paper. also keep some sort of schedule and task list or else you will be that guy that goes "wait we have a TEST today?"

halo effect. first impressions are important, even if you can overcome bad ones. show up on time. sit in the front even though it's scary, because midyear you'll realize you have been doing badly because you sat in the back and can't see or hear over the two girls who gossip in front of you. smile. say hello. ask questions. raise your hand. you can be wrong. you can be wrong. you can ask stupid questions.

ask your teachers if you can eat in class. my 4th period teacher (after lunch) was fine with us eating, so id take lunch to study sometimes and eat then. i always ate breakfast during 1st period bc when i got up it was too early for my body to take more than a little. most teachers are okay as long as the smell isn't strong and lasting, and you clean up. have a snack so you don't crash. don't forget to eat either. please eat lunch, and some teachers will give you snacks if you ask, and if you don't have money please just... ask someone for a share or to borrow some cash. it's okay. you need to eat.

there is so much more. school might be all you know. but stop and enjoy life. if you worry about college you're going to spend 4 years looking forward and not enough at the present, and you're going to lose your precious time. there is so much more.

you're going to change. a lot. you will be a completely different person. that's normal. you're gonna be a little embarrassed. like the person you become, and become a person you like. make good choices. be kind. have heart.

enjoy high school, kid. good luck!!! it was honestly a rewarding and wonderful time, and that was in part bc i made it so.

#advice #high school #asks

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benbarnesfrustration · 5 years

Text

Better Late than Never

Part 1 of 2

This chapter rated T TW: angst, references of sex, language, alcohol use

Synopsis: Writer (1st person) and Ben develop a physical relationship while working together on a film. However, a looming separation of several months after filming wraps leads Ben to suggest they remain just friends. Writer agrees, despite their better wishes. Now the wrap party has arrived.

Word count: 1187

I stood at the bathroom mirror, putting some final touches on my makeup. While I got ready, Ben lounged on the bed in the next room, procrastinating on his phone. In the mirror behind me, I saw him sit up and run his hands through his hair. “You better start getting ready, or we’re going to be late to the party,” I called over to him. We had just enjoyed an early evening romp ahead of going to the wrap party. In fact, we had been enjoying a lot of romps lately; stolen moments that normally wouldn’t have the same sense of urgency, were it not for the fact that soon all of it would be coming to an end.

Ben simply groaned in response to my attempt to goad him into getting up. I turned and fixed him with a stern eye. “I mean it. We’re going to be late, and you’re the star of this thing. You shouldn’t be late to the wrap party of your own movie.”

He sighed and slipped on his boxer briefs before standing up and heading in my direction. “You mean our movie. You’re in it too. Can’t we just skip it and stay heeeere?” He whined as he put his hands on my hips and planted a kiss on my shoulder. The kiss, like so many of our interactions these days, sent a small knife of pain into my heart.

I laughed. “And you miss the opportunity to preen like a peacock and show everyone you’re the coolest guy ever?”

He frowned in the mirror at me. “I do not preen.”

“You do. You don’t even realize it,” I teased.

“You, my dear, are mistaking natural effervescence for showing off. It’s not my fault I shine.” He spoke boastfully, but his lips twitched up into a smile to show he wasn’t being serious. He actually was quite a humble person– it was one of the things I loved about him. Regardless of his level of sincerity, he did shine. God, I was going to miss him.

I was overcome by an onslaught of emotion that I had to quickly temper, since he was looking right at me. I coughed. “Okay, go get dressed! Shoo!” I turned to hurry him into the bedroom where his freshly-pressed suit hung in its garment bag.

“Yes headmistress,’ he pouted as he slouched off in the direction of his clothes. I was already dressed in a nice black party dress, and was just finishing up my makeup and hair. He was back in less than ten minutes, fully dressed, and stood next to me at the mirror.

“Is this acceptable for milady?” he inquired. I rolled my eyes. “What has it been, eight minutes? I wish I could get ready that quickly.”

“You complain a lot,” he smirked while running a brush through his dark locks. “There. Done.” He offered me his arm. “Shall we?”

I took his arm and steeled myself with a deep breath. “Better late than never.”

The party was in full swing a couple hours later. Ben and I were making separate circuits around the party, but no matter where I was or who I was talking to, my eyes always wandered over to where he was. He was always smiling, chatting, posing for photos, looking like he was having a grand old time. How could he be having so much fun when I feel like the roof is caving in? I would think to myself bitterly. Well, of course this anguish was one-sided. It was his suggestion to split up after wrap, after all.

I made my way over to the bar for the umpteenth time to get another vodka tonic. While I waited for the bartender to make my drink, Someone nudged my left arm. “How’s it going?” Ben asked as he sidled up next to me, gesturing to the bartender.

“Oh fine,” I sighed and retrieved my fresh cocktail, sipping delicately.

“You don’t sound like you’re having much fun. I guess we should have stayed in bed,” Ben teased. “Another scotch, please, neat,” he said to the bartender.

“Har har,” I said sarcastically. Perhaps it was the six or so drinks I had already had, but I was feeling off. I was feeling…angry. Ben furrowed his brow as he looked at me. “Honestly, what’s up?”

“Nothing,” I spat, and attempted to walk away, but Ben grabbed my upper arm.

“Have I done something?” he asked, looking worried.

“Not now, Ben.” I replied. I wanted to scream at him, but I didn’t want to cause a scene. I realized I was furious with him for acting so casual and affectionate, and not caring the slightest that he was letting me go. I felt like trash.

He must have seen these emotions on my face, because his expression sobered. “Outside then,” he said simply, and we headed onto an outdoor terrace that was currently unoccupied. He sat on an overstuffed patio chair and sipped his scotch. “Okay, what’s bothering you?”

I wouldn’t sit, I just stood there and fumed. I took an angry sip of my drink and tried not to cry.

“I guess…” I began and trailed off. Not sure what to say. “I guess I was having a hard time understanding how you can carry on fucking me and acting like we’re besties, knowing full well you were dumping me in a matter of days.”

To his credit, Ben looked legitimately surprised. “Dumping you? I am not dumping you!”

“Well what do you call this then?”

“Darling, you agreed to this,” he said. “I’m insanely fond of you, but our schedules won’t allow us to see each other for at least six months–”

“So?” I interrupted. “Honestly. So fucking what? If you’re as fond of me as you say– does six months really matter? Because I’d be willing to at least try it. It might suck, but I’d try!” I realized I was doing precisely what I had been avoiding for months. I wanted to play it cool, act like I was totally fine with Ben’s suggestion to just be friends, and not to let on that I was falling for him like a sack of bricks. I guess the cat was out of the bag now. Fucking vodka.

Ben was definitely caught off guard by that. “When I suggested that we stay friends, you agreed so quickly I thought for sure it was what you wanted.”

“Well it turns out you’re fucking perfect and I fell for you. I’m really sorry for the inconvenience.” The last couple of words came out slightly choked; the waterworks were coming, and fast. I had to get out of there, and rushed back into the party without another word. My brain dimly registered Ben saying “Wait!” but I kept going, determined to put as much distance between myself and him as possible. This relationship’s expiration date had come. The alcohol and tears blurred my vision as I tried to find my way out of there, and three words cruelly echoed in my head, making my chest hurt: It’s really over.

Part 2

#ben barnes #fic #fanfic #fic: better late than never #ben x writer

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a-secondhand-sorrow · 6 years

Text

Of Phone Calls and Letters

Alternatively, this could be titled “I am a Procrastinator”.

Here’s chapter 1 of sweet words, told from Evan’s perspective. This chapter and maybe the next are probably the most canon-y (minus the very obvious differences)

Read the prologue here | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

Trigger warnings: mentioned suicide, mentioned drug use

Chapter 1

***

“Oh, he’s going to ruin your life.”

“Jared.”

“I mean, that’s what I would do.”

“Jared.”

“I mean, he’s Connor Murphy, who gives a shi-”

“Jared.”

“What?”

“That’s not-he wouldn’t-” Evan struggled for a second, struggling to find the right words. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“How would you know? He threw a printer at Mrs. G in second grade. He’d do anything.”

“Because we’re friends, alright?” Evan spit out suddenly, unable to handle Jared’s taunts. “We’re friends, or, or at least we used to be, but we fought over the summer and-and we hadn’t talked but he stormed off with the letter and-and shit, I’m actually worried about him.”

It’s quiet on the other line for a moment. “Really?”

“Yes, really, and I’ve never-I’ve never seen him so upset-” Evan could hear the emotion creeping into his own voice, but the reason he stopped was because of Jared. “Hey, are you good? You just kinda, uh? Stopped talking.”

“Huh?” Jared said suddenly, his tone different than Evan had heard before. Maybe it was only because Evan had known him for so long, but he could practically hear the gears spinning in Jared’s head across the phone. “No, I, um, I was just thinking, you know-secret friends no one knows about who have a mysterious falling out? That’s like, the perfect formula for high school gay lovers-”

Some combination of his nerves and the odd way in which Jared was acting made Evan say, “Do you ever stop projecting onto other people?”

There was a slight pause on the other end, before Jared managed a quiet, “Damn, Hansen, really throwing the punches tonight.”

“Oh my god, no, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m so sorry-”

“No, shit, you’re fine. I’m kidding. It was a joke” Although something in his tone held a note of definitely not kidding, Evan decided to let it slide.

“So, should I, should I call him? Or should I, wait no. I can’t call him, what if he’s furious with me?”

“Evan. Take three deep breaths.” Jared’s tone had become businesslike again, and Evan felt a bit of relief. “Look, I’ll spell it out for you. You two have your... friendship, which fell apart, so he pushed you in the fucking hallway because of, I don’t know, unresolved trauma and guilt or some shit, and felt bad about it so he came to apologize until he read about your creepy crush on his sister in your weird sex note-”

“It’s not a sex note-”

“-and obviously he was overcome with a jealous rage that he no longer held your affections-”

“Jared!”

“-and stormed off in a blind rage, where he’ll probably get high and skip school for a week before his parents find out and force him to go back.”

“That’s-no-that’s not what- you really think so?” The quiet desperation in Evan’s voice annoyed even him, much less Jared.

“I mean,” Jared seemed to be back to his old cocky self, “probably. He’s Connor Murphy.”

***

The vague anxiety for both himself and Connor followed Evan for the next few days, punctuated by the absence of both Zoe and Connor from school. Of course, Jared’s thoughts of Connor ‘ruining his life’ lost Evan some sleep, but his main fears rested in this being the final straw for their friendship.

Or worse, the final straw for Connor.

All of these fears only spiked when he was called to the principal’s office several days into the school year.

“Uh, is Mr. Howard...”

Evan stopped short as he slowly recognized the couple sitting in the office.

“I just, sorry, they said on the loudspeaker for me to come to the Principal’s office.”

“Mr. Howard is, uh, he stepped out.” The gray-haired man, seated on a small couch in the office next to a rather put-together red haired woman, indicated a seat opposite himself. Although they were both impeccably dressed and put together, a few signs of durress shone through-the woman’s eyes appeared to be red and watery under her eye makeup, and the man’s hand clenched and unclenched on the arm of the couch.

They were Larry and Cynthia Murphy, Connor and Zoe’s parents.

Evan’s heart seized with a rush of panic.

“We wanted to speak to you in private,” Larry shifted a little on the couch, gesturing to a chair opposite. “If you’d like to, maybe...”

He sat slowly, shrinking down in the chair, picking a little at his cast, which remained partially obscured from Larry and Cynthia across from him to hide the fact that his cast had Connor’s name scrawled on it in giant letters.

Larry cleated his throat. Cynthia sniffled. Evan shifted.

Eventually, Larry said, quite gently, “we’re, uh... we’re Connor’s parents.”

All Evan could manage was a small “oh?”

Shakily, Cynthia pulled a folded piece of paper from her purse, as Larry began a “why don’t you go ahead, honey-”

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Cynthia snapped, clearly close to a breaking point.

“That’s not what I said, is it?”

Cynthia ignored him, her gaze pointedly fixed at the wall. She then turned to Evan, holding out the piece of paper with an odd kind of reverence, as though it were a lifeline. Slowly, she said, “this is...Connor...he wanted you to have this.”

Evan took the paper from Cynthia, who clung to it till the very last second as though she were afraid it would disappear as she let go. He unfolded the paper gently, heart racing, feeling the weight of Larry and Cynthia’s eyes on him.

His note. It’s his note, staring up at him from this paper.

But why?

Larry cut in as Evan stared down at the note. “We didn’t...we hadn’t heard your name before, Connor never...but then we saw... ‘Dear Evan Hansen.’”

“He, um,” Evan shifted a bit, turning to look more at Larry than the paper, “he gave you this?”

“We didn’t know you were friends.”

Evan looked up quickly, paper momentarily forgotten in his grip, shocked that they knew. Had Connor told them? “Uh, yes but-but what-?”

Larry cut in again, seemingly almost to himself more than Evan. “We didn’t think that Connor had any friends. And then we see this note and it’s, it seems to suggest pretty clearly that you and Connor were, or at least for Connor, he thought of you as...I mean, it’s right there. ‘Dear Evan Hansen.’ It’s addressed to you.” Larry paused for a moment, his voice having died in his throat. “He wrote it to you.”

Evan swallowed, not quite sure what to say. “I’m sorry, but what-why-you think he wrote this to me?”

Cynthia nodded, eyes full of tears. “These are the words he wanted to share with you. His...last words.”

“This is what he wanted to leave you with.” Larry added, eyes downcast, voice laced with regret.

All Evan could manage was “I’m sorry...his last words?”

At this, Cynthia began actually crying, actively trying to conceal sobs. Larry appeared to be close to his wife’s situation, but holding it together much more. Clearing his throat, he said “Connor...uh...Connor took his own life.”

“He...what?” Evan half-whispered, eyes traveling back down to the paper.

For the first time, he noticed something scribbled at the bottom.

He looked quickly, seeing Connor’s familier blocky scrawl.

Dear Evan Hansen,

It’s not your fault.

Suddenly, the world tilted around him, the reality of his situation coming to a sharp focus in his mind.

Connor was dead, and they never made up.

His mind a whirl of thoughts, the only real ones he could find were Connor is dead, Connor is dead, Connor is dead, Connor killed himself, Connor’s gone, it should have been you, it should have been you, it should have been me, you could’ve saved him, you should’ve saved him, you needed to save him, he’s dead, you should be dead-

A sob tore through his chest, his note and his note gripped tightly in his hands seen through blurred tears. But no, this note, the last thing Connor ever said, the only thing rooting him to reality was gently being pulled from his hands.

“I didn’t... I didn’t...” Evan choked out through breaths, feeling tears streaming down his face but unable to stop it. “He’s...” His words choked off, but his eyes asked a million questions of the Murphys.

Larry was the only one who could speak. “This is all we found with him. It was folded up in his pocket. You can see that he’s...he wanted to explain why he was...” he struggled for a moment, blinking back tears, before indicating the piece of paper, which he thrust back to Evan. “‘I wish everything was different. I wish I were a part of something. I wish that what I said mattered to anyone.’”

“Please stop, Larry,” Cynthia choked, looking imploringly at Evan, her gaze probing.

“I...I didn’t...”

Evan looked up, meeting Cynthia’s eyes fully for the first time. The deep sorrow he saw there only choked him up further, rendered him nearly incapable of speaking. “Connor didn’t... I...” he shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts. “Can I, can I please go now?”

“He’s clearly in shock,” Larry said, turning to Cynthia.

This was plainly the wrong thing for Cynthia. “This is all we have. This is the only thing we have left.”

Evan shifted in his seat again, and Larry caught sight of something. He followed Larry’s gaze, seeing the choppy letters Connor had printed on his cast.

“Look,” he said slowly, drawing Cynthia’s attention. “Look. His cast...his best and most dearest friend.”

Evan could see the spiral in which this conversation was going. He was unsure of whether to jump ship while he still could, or stick it out.

But then the words Connor is dead floated back up, with a fresh wave of tears, and he couldn’t imagine leaving his parents-or himself-with that so freshly engraved in his memory.

“Please...” Cynthia leaned forward, weeping, grabbing slightly at Evan’s arm. “Please. He’s...you’re...it’s all we have left.”

“Come to dinner,” Larry said gently. “Any night that works for you. We’d... we’d love to get to know you, Evan.”

Evan nodded blindly, slowly, feeling as though he were moving through a tunnel.

“Thank you,” Cynthia said, sounding as though she had had the weight of the world lifted off of her shoulders. “Thank you.”

#dear evan hansen #deh #evan hansen #my fanfic #larry murphy #zoe murphy #cynthia murphy #jared kleinman #deh fanfiction #deh au #deh fanfic #my fanfiction #mine #my works #when the sweet words and fevers all leave us right here in the cold #suicide tw #suicide mention

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dobseventeen · 6 years

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A New Beginning: Part 8

A/N: I freaking loved writing this chapter, it’s so damn cute. This is basically just a huge fluff chapter, but don’t worry, it’ll be pure smut next chapter ;-) I’m loving where the story is going. Please let me know what you guys think! Thanks for reading babes!

Pairing: Dylan O’Brien/Reader

Word Count: 4,352

Warnings: Cussing

Summary: Y/N is back home, preparing for her move to Cali. She tries to keep herself busy, so her mind doesn’t wander to how much she misses Dylan.

Previous Chapter: Part 7

Next Chapter: Part 9

You trudged up the steps of your apartment building, jet lag consuming you. Not only did you have a layover, but your connecting flight was delayed, making your two hour layover turn into a five hour one. You were supposed to have arrived home around 3am, but here you were trekking through your apartment building in the mid-morning, the sun already shinning brightly in the sky. While exhaustion was weighing heavy on you, you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Dylan and the moment you two shared before you walked into LAX. You hated that you’d be separated for so long, but the new level you two had reached gave you confidence that you’d be able to start right where you left off.

You fumbled with your keys before finally unlocking the door to your two bedroom apartment, one which you shared with your best friend, Sammy. As excited as you were to see her and fill her in on your life changing week in LA, you were thankful that she was at work and you’d have the apartment to yourself for the next few hours, giving you time to sleep off the awful jet lag you were enduring.

As you stepped into the kitchen, the first thing you saw was a beautiful bouquet of flowers in an eloquent vase, situated in the middle of the breakfast bar. A smile instantly covered your face as you rushed over to read the card that was attached, even though you already had a pretty good idea who sent them.

I miss your cute ass already, can you come back to LA yet? -Dylan

“That smooth fucker.” you said aloud, overcome by his sweet gesture, a smile now permanently spread across your face. You wondered how they ended up in the apartment, but you figured Sammy must’ve been home when they were delivered. If this was any indication of how the next month apart was going to be, then you knew you had nothing to worry about. You realized in that moment that you had yet to let him know that you made it home, so you pulled out your phone to type him a quick text with a picture of the flowers attached.

Y/N: “What am I going to do with you? I’m so not worthy!!”

Dylan O’Brien: “Don’t even start with me, babe. You’re worthy of so much more than just a vase of flowers. Glad you made it home safely.”

You were thankful that you were alone at the moment, because you couldn’t help the blush that now covered your cheeks and the smile that you couldn’t wipe off your face.

Y/N: “You never fail to surprise me, O’Brien 😘 Also, how the hell did you get my address?”

Dylan O’Brien: “I have my ways, Y/N, don’t worry about it 😉 Now go sleep, you’ve been up for almost 24 hours. Text me later!”

You shook your head and chuckled at his response. You had absolutely no idea how he could’ve gotten your address, but you were thankful he went out of his way to figure it out, even if it could be considered creepy by some. Truthfully, if it had been anyone else you would be absolutely be disturbed, but once again, you were being swept up by the wonderfulness that was Dylan O’Brien— and you loved every second of it.

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After unpacking and resting for a few hours, you were now on your way to meet Sammy for dinner at one of your favorite restaurants. You were so excited to finally see her after what felt like ages, and you were even more excited to finally tell someone about your time spent with Dylan. When you walked in the doors of the restaurant, you saw your best friend perched up on one the barstools, her blonde hair in loose curls with one leg crossed over the other. She was stirring her drink nonchalantly while watching whatever was on the TV above the bar, not realizing you had arrived.

You walked up behind her and stood with your arms crossed, “Whats up, bitch?” you said with a smirk.

She whipped herself around in the barstool instantly, “OH MY GOD, HI!!” she exclaimed while jumping down to envelope you in a hug.

“Hi! I’ve missed you so much!” you said sweetly as you both pulled away and climbed into two seats at the bar.

“How was your flight home, did everything go okay? I thought you were supposed to be home by the time I left for work this morning? Did you miss your flight because you and Dylan were having hot, steamy sex?” she asked jokingly while you were getting the bartenders attention to order a drink.

“Oh my god, No!” you said with a roll of your eyes and a small laugh.

“My connecting flight got delayed in Denver, so I had like a five hour layover.” you added with a groan.

“That sucks, dude. I’m glad you made it back safely though.” she said warmly.

“Now, onto more important things. Tell. Me. Everything. I want every single sexy detail about your time spent with Dylan O’Brien’s fine ass.” she demanded before finishing the contents of her drink.

After finishing up about 3 glasses of wine and your dinner, you had finally filled Sammy in on everything that had happened during your time away. Now you were mentally preparing yourself to answer all the questions she was bound to have with all this new information.

“Holy fuck, dude? I don’t even know where to start.” she said with a half-serious face.

“Well, you can ask me anythi-” you started, but were interrupted.

“Does he have a big dick? I feel like he has to.” she asked casually, catching you completely off-guard.

“Sammy! Oh my god, I-uhh-what?!” you exclaimed back to her, obviously you hadn’t prepared yourself for that question.

“I’m gonna guess he does based on the insane amount of blush that is now covering your face.” she said with smirk before taking a sip of her drink.

“You’re ridiculous.” was all you could manage to reply with. You shouldn’t have been surprised that she brought that question up, you knew damn well that you’d ask her the same thing.

“Okay, but on a serious note, do you like him? Like despite the fact that he’s this huge movie star whose fucking insanely gorgeous and famous, do you want it to become something more? Something serious?” she asked in a clear tone.

You were quiet for a second while you tried to collect your thoughts. You couldn’t help the smile that overtook you when you thought about Dylan and the way things left off between the two of you.

“I really like him, Sam. And at first I was afraid he only wanted it to be a fling, but we had such a good time together this week and we had this awesome talk like right before I left and, basically, I think we’re going to try and make it become something more.” you said softly, loving the fact that you were able to speak all these feelings aloud.

“Y/N, I’m so happy for you. It’s about damn time you found someone who treats you right, especially someone like him.” she said with a warm smile.

“Thanks, Sammy. He makes me so happy. He even sent me a huge bouquet of flowers, but I’m gonna guess you were the one who answered the door when they were delivered?” you said casually.

“Uhm-I-Uh, yeah-I- they delivered them this morning!” was all she said in response. You felt like there was something she wasn’t telling you, but you decided to let it go.

“Well thanks for taking them for me. It definitely made the god-awful trip home worth it when I saw them.” you admitted softly. In that moment, your mind flashed to Dylan. You wondered what he was doing in that moment. You figured this is how most of your thoughts were going to go over the next month; centered around him. You didn’t mind, though. You’d much rather think about him and what he was doing than the physical distance that was between you both.

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You didn’t realize all things that you had to get done before you moved across the country. You thought that physically moving all your stuff to California would be the hard part, but once you realized all the loose ends you had to tie up at home, you were somewhat thankful that you’d have a month get it all done.

A few days after you returned home you found out that you landed the condo that just so happened to be on the same side of town as Dylan’s house. Score. You were elated to know that in a few short weeks you’d be living within minutes of him, which sure as hell beat the 6 hour flight that currently separated you.

Now that you knew where you were living, you could begin to the long process of ordering furniture and sorting out your current belongings to ship out there. You knew it was going to take you forever to go through everything and sort what was going with you and what could be given away, so you decided to do a little bit each day instead of procrastinating like you normally would.

You kept yourself pretty busy for a majority of the week after you returned home. Along with packing and getting ready for your move, you were able to spend time with Sammy, your other friends, and your family. You decided to keep the details of the new man in your life to a minimum. The last thing you wanted was to get everyone all excited because you were “dating” a movie star, especially when you weren’t sure how it was all going to play out. You were glad that you were keeping yourself busy, because you knew if you were just sitting at home, you’d drive yourself crazy thinking about Dylan.

You had been in constant contact with Dylan since you left him at LAX. You texted everyday and talked on the phone almost every night. You normally weren’t the type of person to need this constant communication, but it came easily with Dylan. You never felt like you needed to text him, but you found yourself wanting to, especially when the conversation came so easy with him. Your heart never failed to skip a beat when his name came up on your phone. and a smile seemed to be permanently etched on your face anytime you would hear his alluring voice come through your cell. It was no mystery that you both immensely missed each other, but this first week apart had gone by so fast, you were both hopeful that the rest of the month would too.

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You were now at a rooftop-patio bar in the downtown area of your city with your family, Sammy, and her boyfriend, Luke. You were celebrating your Mom’s birthday by grabbing some dinner and drinks while enjoying the beautiful summer weather. You couldn’t help but feel so thankful for your life at the moment. Not only were you planning a life changing move, but you had spent the entire day with your friends and family just hanging out and spending some quality time together, trying to see each other as much as possible before you take off for California. The only thing that seemed to be missing was Dylan. You wanted nothing more than to spend these important moments with him, but you had hope that eventually you would be able to.

The sun was just beginning to set when you all sat down at a table on the patio that overlooked the central part of the city. While everyone was talking amongst themselves, you found yourself smiling down at your phone, texting Dylan. Unfortunately, he had been busy in meetings all day, so you hadn’t talked to him since the morning, but you wanted to send him a quick message to let him know you were missing him.

Y/N: “Hope you’re having a good day, babe. Wish you could be here right about now, I miss your fine ass 😉”

“Who ya texting, Y/N?” Sammy asked from across the table, a huge smirk covering her face. She was loving the ability to get you all red in the face and flustered over the mention of Dylan, especially when she was the only one besides Luke at the table that knew about him. Today she was especially adamant when it came to asking about Dylan, and it made you begin to wonder exactly what angle she was playing.

“Uhm... just a friend.” you muttered while giving her a piercing glare, trying to cover the flood of emotions that the question brought you.

“What friend, Y/N?” your mother, Pam, asked from the head of the table, an amused look on her face.

“Just a guy I met, nothing too serious yet.” you said sheepishly, not liking that the entire table’s attention was now on you.

“And will we ever get to meet this mystery man?” your step-dad, Brian, added before taking a sip of his beer.

You couldn’t help but notice while you were being grilled with questions, Sammy had left the table to take a call. She was now leaning over the railing, looking down at the street below. Who could she be talking to?

“Maybe someday.” was all you could say before quickly averting your attention to the drink menu in front of you. If you wouldn’t have removed yourself from the conversation so fast you would have noticed the looks that were being exchanged across the table in reaction to you. You then remembered you felt your phone vibrate on your lap a few minutes earlier, making you grateful that you had something else to put your attention towards besides the table full of people who were far too interested in your love life.

Dylan O’Brien: “I had a pretty good day, Y/N. Trust me, I wish I were with you too. Where are you right now?”

Y/N: “I’m glad to hear it, Dyl ❤️ Currently at this cute rooftop bar celebrating my Mom’s birthday. Everyone keeps asking when they’re going to meet this new man in my life 🙈 I’m struggling to come up with a good answer to that question.”

After you sent your last message, Sammy returned to the table with a strange expression resting on her face. She was failing terribly at concealing a large smile, her gaze always falling back on you whenever she looked around the table.

“What is up with you tonight?” you asked her, concerned something was wrong.

“Uhm, nothing. Everything is perfect.” she replied simply as she reached out to give your hand a small squeeze. You gave her a puzzled look but then felt your phone vibrate again, breaking your concentration from your blonde friend who was now starring at something behind you.

Dylan O’Brien: “I think I have an answer to that question. Turn around, babe.”

“Oh my god.” you said aloud while dropping your phone to the table and all but jumping out of your chair. You whipped your head around and saw Dylan standing there behind you, slowly walking your way while tucking his phone back in his pocket.

You practically skipped across the patio and instantly wrapped your arms around him, completely intoxicated by his presence. He wrapped his arms around you and swung you around, both you erupting in laughter. To be in his arms again gave you a feeling of pure bliss, happiness, and relief. You couldn’t believe he was here, considering his busy schedule, but you weren’t going to question it one bit. Now that he was here you weren’t sure you’d ever let him leave. You pulled away after a few more seconds and looked up into the whiskey eyes that you’d come to know so well.

“What are you doing here?!” you exclaimed with an imperishable smile, both hands resting on his arms.

“You told me I had to come help you pack, so here I am.” he said with a wink and his classic smirk, sending waves of adoration through you.

“You’re insane.” you said with a small grin, pink dusted heavily on your cheeks.

And then it hit you that there’s no way he could’ve just shown up here, “How did you kn-” you added before being interrupted.

“You can thank me.” Sammy said as she walked up beside you.

“Hi Dylan, it’s nice to finally meet you in person.” she said while extending her hand out to him. Your mouth hung agape at the two of them. You couldn’t believe they’d been in touch this entire time.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Sam. Thanks for helping me with everything, definitely wouldn’t have pulled this off without you.” he said sweetly, giving her a smile while wrapping his arm around your lower back.

“I can’t believe you two! You had this planned out the whole time?” you exclaimed, taken aback by the effort that both of them must’ve put in to make this all happen.

“Yeah... I may have gotten in touch with her back when you were still in LA. How else did you think I would know where to send your flowers?” he said charmingly while pulling you further into him.

“I don’t even know what to say. You never fail to surprise me, O’Brien.” you said while looking adoringly up at him, admiring the gorgeous man who just traveled across the country to come see you. He looked even better than you remembered; his chocolate hair was perfectly tousled, he was sporting some scruff along his jaw line, and he had gotten a nice tan from the days he’d recently spent playing baseball with his friends. On top of his physical appearance, he was wearing a plain black t-shirt that showed off all the muscles of his back, chest, and arms in the best way possible, along with a pair of khakis and his infamous green Adidas. You were practically salivating just looking at him, and you already couldn’t wait to get him home for the night.

“Anything for you, babe.” he said before bending down a giving you a light kiss, his hands resting on your waist. You knew that you missed Dylan, but you didn’t realize just how much you missed him until his lips were finally on yours again. You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to the electricity that would jolt through veins every time his lips touched you, and if you were being honest, you never wanted to get used to it.

As you two pulled apart after a few quick seconds, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You basically forgot that you were at a family dinner the second you saw Dylan, and now you were slightly embarrassed that they all just witnessed your reunion with the man you had failed to give them any details about.

“I guess I should introduce you.” you said bashfully while taking his hand in yours.

“You lead the way, gorgeous. I’m excited to meet your family.” he said softly, giving your hand a small squeeze.

After going around the table and introducing Dylan to your mother, stepfather, older brother and his girlfriend, younger brother, and Luke, you were finally sitting down and preparing to order your dinner. As you watched Dylan interact with your family, you couldn’t resist the new feeling of admiration for him. You knew he was the perfect gentleman, but to see him in action shaking everyone’s hands, laughing, and basically getting along with your family better than you do, you were in awe.

While Dylan was in an in-depth conversation with Alex, your younger brother, about baseball, you made direct eye contact with Sammy from across the table, who was giving you a look of pure geniality. You were so thankful for her. You couldn’t describe how lucky you were to have a friend who was willing to do all of this for you, just to see you happy.

You flashed her a sincere smile, “Thank you so much, Sam. This means so much to me, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you.” you said quietly, not wanting to involve anyone else in the conversation.

“Oh hush, you practically did the same thing for me when I first met Luke, and honestly, I love seeing you this happy. You came back from California as a different person— a happy person, and if he is the reason for that, then I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you that way.” she said tenderly while motioning towards Dylan.

“Ugh, I’m so not worthy of you.” you said simply, struggling to find words to express your gratitude. She beamed you a grin before returning to her conversation with Luke and your older brother, Seth.

You now turned your attention to Dylan and Alex, who were still discussing baseball and their respective teams standings in the league. You loved seeing Dylan fit in so well with your family, even if he was currently in a debate with your brother about whose team was better. You reached down and took Dylan’s hand into yours under the table, trying to convey just how thankful you were that he was here. He looked back to you and flash a soft smile while tracing his thumb over your knuckles.

“You guys better be careful, you both have an intense love for two completely different teams, don’t want any punches to be thrown.” you said jokingly while shifting your gaze between Alex and Dylan.

“Nah, we’ll be alright. That is until the Reds kick the Mets’ ass next month.” Alex said cockily.

“We’ll see about that, dude. I guarantee my Mets will win the series.” Dylan said nonchalantly before taking a sip of his beer.

“Wanna bet on it, maze runner?” Alex chirped, getting way too into the conversation. You completely forgot to mention to Dylan that your little brother loved the maze runner series.

You rolled your eyes at the two boys, “Oh god, here we go.” you murmured.

Dylan chuckled, “Mmmm, yeah, I’ll bet on it. What are the stakes?”

“Uhm, if the Mets win, which they won’t, I’ll wear a Mets hat for a whole week.” Alex replied confidently.

Dylan raised his eyebrows at the young man, surprised by his suggestion.

“Okay, and if the Reds win, I’ll bring you on the set of my next movie and show you around, shank.” Dylan said smoothly, giving your brother a small wink after the reference to the Maze Runner.

“You’re so on!” Alex exclaimed while reaching his hand out to shake on the newly formed bet. Dylan did the same and gave him a firm shake, confirming the deal.

“You guys are ridiculous.” you said with a small chuckle, silently loving how well your brother and Dylan were already getting along.

The rest of the dinner went by perfectly. As far as you could tell, everyone loved Dylan and it seemed like he had had a good time, but you were more than ready to have him to yourself. After a few drinks following dinner, your family left, followed by Sammy and Luke shortly after.

“We’re gonna go back to Luke’s apartment tonight, that way you can-uh- have ours to yourself.” she said whispered into your ear before eyeing the grasp you currently had on Dylan’s arm.

“You’re the best.” you mouthed softly before letting out a small laugh.

“What are you two talking about?” Dylan asked innocently as he looked down at you.

“Oh nothing, Dyl. Just that Sammy and Luke are about to leave.” you said lovingly while tightening your grip on his bicep.

“It was so nice to finally meet you, Dylan. Thanks for keeping my best friend’s crazy-ass happy. And you better make sure it stays that way.” she stated while giving him an half-serious glare.

“I plan on keeping it that way.” he responded honestly, giving her a small nod.

“It was nice meeting you man, I’m sure I’ll see you around soon.” Luke said while giving him a handshake.

“Of course, man. It’s been great hanging with you tonight.” Dylan replied with a kind smile before Luke draped his arm around Sammy’s shoulders, leading them out of the now-busy bar. Dylan now turned his attention back to you.

“God, I’ve missed you so much. I can’t believe it’s only been a week.” he said while his whiskey eyes locked with yours.

“I know, babe. I’m so glad you’re here now though. No one has ever done anything like this for me. I’m so lucky I found you.” you said tenderly, not caring about the blush that now dusted over your face.

Dylan looked at you before brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, “How many times do I have to tell you that I am the lucky one?” he said gorgeously before leaning in to attach his lips to yours. The fire that you had missed so much since leaving LA was once again ignited within you in that moment, his touch never failing to have that effect on you. After a few euphoric moments of your tongues dancing around one another, you realized you needed to be alone with him, as soon as possible.

“How about we get out of here? I can’t take another second of not being alone with you.” you said seductively with your hand resting on the side of his face.

“You lead the way, gorgeous.” he said charmingly, looking deeply into your eyes.

You both left the bar, hand-in-hand, beginning the short walk to your apartment. His touch was the only thing on your mind. You couldn’t wait to be home so he could finally set the fire ablaze that had been burning since you left him at LAX.

You both knew you were in for an unforgettable night.

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Next Chapter: Part 9

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