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wh6res · 4 years ago

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Aggressive 10, Lucas

power trip | lucas

synopsis. where's your place, if not kneeling before him?

warnings. bullying, yandere themes, swearing, bones breaking, violence, slut shaming, lucas is a major asshole

for the most part, it was your fault. because as the saying goes, what you allow will continue. and fuck, he’s been getting away with how he treats you for the last four years.

the first time you step foot in the school, you immediately knew his name. it was impossible not to know lucas when he’s such a model student, how intimidatingly perfect he seemed to be—he’s smart; top of his class, athletic; he won the mvp award in basketball last year. his face and physique is a bonus in all its entirety. not to mention, you heard he's quite the sweetheart, always smiling, charming, with a loyal and dedicated fanbase. you thought these stuff can only be seen in dramas, but of course, the world works in such strange ways.

he was always aloof whenever he striked, pretended to be innocent with those huge eyes of his, partnered with the faintest pout on his lips as he preaches about doing no harm when he literally tripped you purposely only seconds ago. he’d say stuff like “you need help?” “are you okay?” “let me help you get to the nurse’s office” “i’m sorry, if it's my fault” all the while staring down at you with this dark glint in his eye buried deep from the surface of his facade, a look only you can recognize.

you doubt his friends were any help. after all, there’s no hope that lies on the people who look the other way. pieces of shit who lack the heart to help you. but then again, why would they, anyway? it wasn’t as if you could offer them anything, while lucas on the other hand, has everything they’d ever want to have—connections, reputation, popularity, money, the list can go on and on.

“i just don’t understand why you want to help me all of a sudden.”

because you don’t. you truly don’t. it’s been four years—you’re all graduating on the next month—and only now did hendery want to extend his help to you? is this some kind of joke? is this all part of one grand scheme, one last kick for lucas to enjoy seeing your crying face before going your seperate ways?

you didn’t want to trust him, not one bit. but he’d somehow won you over when he talked about all these plans of lucas messing with your college applications, about how easy it’ll be to talk to their deans regarding your “shady” high school life, how they’d be better off “giving the slot to a student more deserving” and hendery had even showed you screenshots and pictures of the evidence all found in lucas’ house.

and it was as if luck was finally shining down your path. finally, proof of all the horrible things lucas has done to you. although there is no hard-rock evidence of the four years of bullying, emotional trauma, and anxiety he gave you, this last plan he had of thoroughly ruining your life forever is a good enough manifestation of his true nature. and for once, you’re finally going to fight back.

there were no more students loitering in the school by the time you and hendery met up at the student council’s office now turned yearbook committee headquarters. you had snorted at the name they gave it and hendery, too, found the name rather comedic in a sense.

you were both here to print the photos you’ll use to show the principal to plead for lucas’ suspension or extermination. the both of you were in the middle of a lighthearted conversation when the boy got a phone call. he had quickly excused himself, giving you a good-natured pat in the head as he stepped out of the room to take the call, thankful with his back turned or else he would’ve felt the blazing heat off of your cheeks from where he’s sitting across you.

you’ve grown incredibly close to hendery for the last few weeks leading up to graduation as he played double agent between you and his friends. shooting you quick winks and small smiles whenever he thinks no one is looking—but of course, there will always be someone looking.

“of all my friends, baby? kunhang? i’m a ‘lil disappointed. that guy can hardly even act, much less help you devise a good plan to bring me down.”

it felt like a cold bucket of ice water had been dumped onto you when you see lucas walking through the doors, sporting casual clothings rather than the school uniform. has he been waiting this whole time? how did he know you’d still be here?

the foldable seat underneath you topples over when the back of your knees hits it. you try to remain indifferent, tried to square your shoulders as you stand a few feet away from your bully, hands braced against the table as you cover the few pictures splayed out.

“there’s no use for that,” lucas retorts, scoffing. “i already know everything. kunhang is…”

he trails, looking down on the rings on his fingers as he twirls one of them thoughtfully. you don’t like the smirk that starts stretching on his lips, his head shooting up to look at you with a gaze that sent great fear down your spine.

“he’s being taken care of… all because a stupid little bunny thought she can get away from all this.”

“what the fuck do you even want from me?!” you scream, taking steps back when he took steps forward. “i’ve never done anything to you. what the fuck is your deal—”

“my deal is how much of a bitch you are!”

you yelp when his hands darts out to fist the collars of your shirt. there’s a sting from the coming onslaught of tears but you don’t let it fall, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“you walk around here looking at everyone and everything with this air of arrogance around you. thinking you’re so fucking high and mighty with that cold person act but i can see how much you’ve rolled your skirt up. it’s a;; pretty amusing, actually. what are you, a fucking whore? a slut? trying to get my attention is that it?

ah, there it is. the lovely, lovely sight of your red face and the crocodile tears streaming like waterfalls down your cheek as you fought against him. it gives him such a power trip to see

“THAT’S NOT TRUE!” you fight, voice barely stable. “i’m not a sl… slu…” fuck it, you can’t even say it. “i don’t want your attention! you’re a fucking bully!”

he laughs condescendingly, dropping you to the ground. “see, that’s where you’re wrong. i’m not a bully…”

you groan aloud in pain when you hit the floor and you sobbed louder when he harshly steps on one of your hands as you try picking yourself back up again. you shoot him a pleading look, one that sent jolts of sick pleasure down his stomach, but he doesn’t relent until he hears the joints of your fingers cracking under his boots.

“i’m a god. and that’s where you belong, worshipping me on your hands and knees.”

#yandere nct #yandere kpop #yandere lucas

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capaimagines · 4 years ago

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jackson wang - forever yours pt.2

Pairing: Jackson Wang x Reader | Genre: angst & fluff | Warnings: mentions of anxiety & depression, heartache | WC: 1.5k

Request: Can you post a part 2 of forever yours? Thank youuuu ❤

part one

You looked at yourself in the mirror, eyeing the baby blue dress that adorned your frame. It was always Jackson’s favorite color on you. Your makeup was matching and you looked good yet you didn’t feel too good. It had been almost a year since you last saw Jackson. Since he walked out of your once shared apartment with tears streaming down his face.

You felt the familiar burn of tears in your eyes and quickly blinked them away, not wanting to ruin your makeup; you could do that later. You thought the tears had dried up, that they were long gone because all you had done for months after your breakup was cry until you fell asleep. You hadn’t handled it well and you knew you weren’t going too.

You weren’t keeping tabs on him necessarily, but you wouldn’t scroll past a new article posted about him. You had yet to shut your notifications off for when he would tweet something or post a new picture on Instagram. You wanted to make sure he was doing okay, that he was still working towards what he always wanted.

From the pictures and tweets, it seemed that he was doing okay. You didn’t know if that hurt or not. Of course, you wanted him to be doing well. To have put you in the past and not given you and him a second thought, but at the same time, you wanted to know if he had hurt like you did. Like you still were.

You had still kept in touch with his members, after all, they were your friends now too. You did try to keep some distance after the break up, didn’t want them to feel like they needed to choose between you two even though you know they would choose him always. Just like you would.

You had tried going out on dates set up by your other friends, but they never lasted long or turned into anything more. None of them were Jackson. You had graduated and you had just received an offer for a position in your dream company. While your happiness and love life may have taken a toll, you had achieved your dream. Your goal. Unfortunately, while you had pictured that moment with Jackson by your side, he wasn’t.

Jaebeom had called you one day, asking to come over. The premise was that he just wanted to check-in, to see how you were fairing and that you were okay. You knew none of them fully believed you were okay, but they never seemed to question it, knowing it was something they couldn’t help you get over. That was something you had to do yourself. You happily agreed to have him come by.

When he came over, he had handed you a ticket to the award show they were going to be performing at in a few weeks. He wanted you to come, the others were missing you and while he didn’t say it directly, you knew he meant Jackson. To say you were surprised was a bit of an understatement. You had never planned on ever going to anything they were at.

If Jackson still was hurting as much as you, you didn’t want to make it worse. You didn’t want to throw him off or have that heartbreak in the forefront of his mind while he tried to put on his idol appearance. You wanted to see him though and you hesitantly agreed. Jaebeom was relieved. Seeing you and Jackson the past year had torn him apart.

Jackson was not okay even though his social media seemed to portray differently. He was quieter, more reserved. He still worked hard and gave everything his all but the spark in his eyes had gone out. Sure, he was happy doing what he loved, but he wasn’t happy that the one he loved wasn’t there to experience it with him.

For months after your breakup, it was Jaebeom who sat at Jackson’s home consoling him. Letting him sob his eyes out, scream at whatever higher power there was that could do this to him. That could make someone feel so much pain. It was Jaebeom who was quite literally holding Jackson up when he would cry everything he had left in him out for hours upon hours.

“He still loves you, you know,” You looked at Jaebeom with wide eyes.

Of course, you knew that. Even if it had ended differently you knew that you two would always hold love for each other. There was no possible way you couldn’t, but to hear it, to actually hear that he still thought about you, that he still loves you, sent a pain to your heart.

You had stumbled, tears cascading down your cheeks and just like he had done with Jackson before, Jaebeom held you up and let you cry. Even if you coming to the show didn’t resolve anything, at least you two could have some type of closure. That was Jaebeom’s wish, as well as the rest of the members.

So, here you were, sitting backstage in GOT7’s waiting room. Watching them on the screen perform and seeing Jackson made your heart swell, with love and with hurt. You didn’t know how much it would hurt to see him again, even if it wasn’t physically. He did look different.

He still had his bright smile, still performed like it was the last thing on earth but you could see it. The light in his eyes was gone, he had gotten a little thinner, his hair had grown out and you were pretty positive it wasn’t because he just wanted a new look. You would know, you didn’t go out for something as simple as a haircut until a month after the breakup.

Then, they won an award, Jackson seemed happy enough, but you could tell his smile didn’t reach his eyes. That’s when you knew; you knew he couldn’t see you. It would only bring more torment to what you knew his brain was already giving him. You stood up abruptly, some of the staff giving you weird looks.

You needed to leave before they had gotten back to the dressing room. You couldn’t do this to him. He still had dreams and goals he was working towards and you couldn’t be the roadblock. You quickly scribbled a note, slipping it into the pocket of what you knew was his jacket and ran out. You couldn’t do this to him again, to yourself.

Jackson thought he saw a flash of baby blue turn the corner, but when he looked there was nothing. He blinked a few more times alluding that his eyes must be playing tricks on him. They walked into the dressing room and he saw Jaebeom’s face fall and he nudged him.

“What’s with the face? We won!” He cheered and Jaebeom quickly changed his facial expression, nodding.

“Hm, you’re right,” He sighed.

They changed their clothes and eventually headed out. The others wanted to go out and celebrate with some drinks, but Jackson declined. He just wanted to go home and sleep because he felt utterly exhausted. Jaebeom tried to convince him to come for just an hour but Jackson shook his head and clapped him on the back.

“No thanks, hyung. I’m not really feeling up to it, maybe another day though.”

As he shoved his hands into his pockets, his face scrunched up in confusion. He didn’t remember leaving scrap paper in his pocket. He pulled it out and opened the folded paper, stopping in his tracks and breath faltering. He knew that handwriting. His mind quickly replayed the glimpse of blue he thought he saw running around a corner earlier.

He read the note quickly, turning on his heels and running back into the building. He was quickly walking around all the hallways, eyes searching wildly for the girl he hasn’t seen in almost a year. You had to still be here. You had too. He felt the burn of tears in his eyes, the frustration bubble up that you had been right there and he had no idea.

“Jackson?” It was Jaebeom and Jackson couldn’t help it anymore. He fell into his chest and Jaebeom held strong, held him.

“What’s wrong Jacks?” Jackson couldn’t speak, only letting the tears and sobs take over any noises or words he could think. His shaky hands held up the note he had found in his pocket. Jaebeom took it and read it quickly, frowning and taking Jackson away from prying eyes, “Let’s get you home, okay?”

He hastily threw the note into a trash can, feeling his heart break all over again for his best friend.

I am so, so proud of you, Jacks. I’m really sorry I couldn’t stay, but you know why. I’ll always watch over you and I’ll be waiting for the day we can both be happy again, even if that means not being together. Keep working hard, love. Don’t ever let your spark die. It’s one of the things I love most about you. I love you, I really do, but it’s time for the both of us to let go.

Forever yours,

Y/N

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poutybinz · 5 years ago

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We got the fluff, we got the smut, now let's get the ANGST 🙂🙂 how will the boys react to their s/o dumping them hahahaha sorry I live for angst

me too lowkey muahaha

yeonjun

“break up? what do you mean break up?”

you would literally see the joy drain from his face like

his entire world just came crashing down around him and all he wants to know is why

and even if you give him an answer, it’s not gonna make any sense to him

nothings gonna make sense, why can’t you both just work it out?

he’s frustrated and devastated and he doesn’t know who to blame and how to process this

what hurts the most about yeonjun is that he’s definitely the type to hug you and not let go in this situation

yeonjun’s lowkey toxic trait is thinking that sex can fix everything (post breakup sex is definitely a thing and it’s painful)

he attaches to you, he’s kissing at your neck and you have to push him away because that’s the last thing either of you need

but he just clings to you, hugging you tightly with his head buried in the crook of your neck

and that’s when he starts crying, when the realization that it’s really over starts to hit

he wants to kiss you, he wants to hug you

he wants you to tell him this is some stupid joke so he can order food and you can have your movie nights like you always do

the denial stage lasts really long tho, there are some days he wakes up and forgets that you’re broken up and he calls you

and when you either don’t answer or you answer and you have to remind him it’s that same heartbreak all over again

he really cannot let you go, no matter how hard he tries he just can’t

soobin

one half of the crybabies

bc he will cry and he will cry a lot

first, it’s shock. he’s stunned, and then he’s confused.

then when you explain yourself he’s filled with overwhelming disappointment because he didn’t do right by you

maybe he got comfortable and didn’t think about it enough

but the simple fact that you feel like you aren’t loved, that you aren’t the center of his universe is enough to break him completely

he doesn’t blame you at all, he blames himself and that hurts you because you don’t want him to think he wasn’t an amazing boyfriend

sometimes things just don’t work out the way you want them to

it’s a little toxic but he hates himself dearly for letting you go. for not loving you the way he should have. he hates himself a lot

thing is though, soobin wont argue with you.

as much as he loves you and he doesn’t want you to leave him, if you feel unhappy he’s not gonna keep you

so there would be a moment where maybe he’d ask for one last hug and kiss

and in that moment in each other’s embrace, both of you would burst into tears

and all soobin can do is whisper “i love you” over and over again because of course he does

he always will, no matter what

beomgyu

similar to yeonjun, there’s a lot of disbelief

“what are you talking about? you’re joking, right?”

he kind of skips over the sadness bit (or at least it comes later) and he goes straight into anger

he’s so devastated and so heartbroken he just lashes out

“why did you tell me all those things if they weren’t true?! why would you lie to me for all of this time if you were going to leave?!”

he’s irrational at this point and no matter how many times you try to explain that you hadn’t had some sort of plan to get him attached to you and then leave

and that sometimes things just don’t work out

it’s going through one ear and out the other, he might even start throwing things and it might turn into an argument

but once all of the anger wears off he’s left with sadness

he just plops onto the floor or the couch or wherever and he just cries and cries

he doesn’t at first but he lets you come sit and cry with him

you have a moment where you can talk things out, you can try to explain to him where you’re coming from

and that you’ll always have love for him

he understands but that doesn’t mean he isn’t still gonna miss you

he hates watching you leave though he’s trying to be strong but it just hurts too much

taehyun

the worst thing about this would be the complete lack of emotion

because if there’s anything taehyun’s good at, it’s composing himself. he can put on a front if he really wants to.

so when you say “i think we should break up”, he doesn’t respond at all

he just stares blankly at you, but even then you can tell he’s panicking. you can almost see the spurs turning in his head

but instead he just stares at you and nods slowly. he doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t push the subject any further.

but he’s hurting inside. he’s screaming and he’s begging, his hands are balled into fists and he’s very clearly holding back a lot

and you know him so you call him out on it, you’re trying to get him to open up because you don’t wanna end this on bad terms

he just shakes his head, though. likely to walk away from you completely because he’s not gonna cry in front of you.

mumbles a small “thank you for everything” before leaving

and he’s a pure wreck for days, nearly weeks after

of everyone he’s the quickest to delete your phone contact (to rip the bandaid off) but on his worst nights he cries himself to sleep watching videos of you two that he can’t stir up the courage to delete

hueningkai

the second member of the crybaby team

so no this is gonna suck a lot

because you’ve damn near never seen hyuka upset in any way. his two emotions are :D and :) he’s always a bundle of joy

so when you break the news to him, similar to yeonjun, you see his whole world collapse in his eyes

his eyes start watering and his lip starts quivering

“what did i do wrong? can i try to fix it?”

what hurts the most about hyuka is that he’s really gonna try anything and everything to get you to stay with him

he’s offering up everything, he’s swearing he’ll give you the moon and stars if that’s what you want

and when none of that works, he’s practically sobbing and he’s still begging

and seeing him like that with big fat tears streaming down his face pleading for you, its too much

young love is a son of a bitch :/

he pretty much never comes to terms with it, no matter how hard you try to explain it to him.

you give him one final hug and god he clings to you for dear life

“please don’t go, i’m sorry. i can fix it.”

there’s no easy way to leave the dorms so you have to just untangle yourself from him and go and the poor boy just wails for you

of all of them he struggles the hardest with this. still has you saved as “love of my life 💗🌈✨” in his phone, refuses to get rid of any the pictures you took together

occasionally still texts you whenever soemthing big happens in his life to tell you he’s thinking of you :(

texted you when they won their first big award and it was a bittersweet feeling when you responded with “congratulations, huening” instead of the usual slew of pet names you gave him

yeah he’s still hurting

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21secondsofchristoph · 4 years ago

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Here is a full translation of the interview featured in Max Magazine.

Original text by Andreas Wrede

This was a lot of work so PLEASE don’t post this elsewhere without credit.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This story with and about Christoph Waltz is a story coming full circle. A little more than 3 decades ago, a small group of editors and photojournalists, graphic artists and authors started developing the pilot for the first German issue of MAX, made possible by Dirk Manthey, the publisher from Hamburg’s Milchstraße, who knew the magazine from Italy, France and Greece. And who made me the founding-editor in chief. Three decades later, the derivative is released, thanks to publisher Max Iannucci. In 1990, Christoph Waltz was in an episode of “Der Alte”, among other things before he played the torn schlager music star Roy Black in “Du bist nicht allein – Die Roy Black Story” – but we will get to that later.

Now Christoph Waltz is an award-winning, internationally known actor, who won two Oscars for best supporting actor. That is unique for a German-speaking actor. Born in Vienna in 1956, he now lives in Los Angeles – if you want to play a role in Hollywood, literally, you must be present in Los Angeles. And during our conversation in a red, furry saloon of the legendary hotel Sacher in Vienna, he emphasizes, “Hollywood is always the goal”.

The place is very fitting, considering Christoph Waltz grew up in Vienna, in a family that cultivated a great affinity for the work on stage for two generations. He says laconically, “You grow into a thing, you grow up with it, and thus, you acquire a familiarity early on, which you’d otherwise have to conquer with a lot more effort.” He often went to the movies from an early age on, but he spent even more time at the opera. “When I had time and had finished my homework, I enjoyed going to the opera.” Back then, a standing room ticket cost about ten Schilling, just a few cents in today’s currency. Little Christoph loved smuggling into the fascinating, secretive opera house.

Later he attended famous acting schools like the Max Reinhardt Seminar or Lee Strasberg’s Actors Studio with significantly less pleasure. “I didn’t like attending acting schools. They didn’t exactly broaden my horizon.” Christoph Waltz hardly found them inspiring. And when he received offers for movies and theater, he accepted them “instead of dealing and struggling with teachers”. He says this with few gestures and in an almost reporting tone, he has always trusted the energies inherent in him. He had his TV debut in “Der Einstand”, where he played a teenage delinquent. That was fitting, considering he continued playing roles which were different, unexpected, and specific, or roles he filled differently, unexpectedly, and specifically.

Christoph Waltz remembers his beginnings as an actor in the 70s a little wistfully. “There were still movies on TV, which were made as movies for television, as one dramatic entity.” Or when there used to be directors like the great Federico Fellini, who was “very, very specifically Italian in everything he did.” Christoph Waltz continues: “And because of this specificity he was able to reach so many people.” A phenomenon like Fellini is marked by obstinacy, nonconformity, and distinct individuality. However, some significant conditions also irritated Christoph Waltz, for instance, when he was hired for the Krzysztof-Zanussi-film “Leben für Leben” in 1991. “I wasn’t adequately informed about the conditions and backgrounds. And so, I found myself – surpsised – in front of a camera in Auschwitz.” How does one react to something like that? “Today, I would know how to react”, he stresses thoughtfully, “but today, that would be due to the self-confidence I acquired over the past years. Back then I felt: Now I’ve been hired for this film.” Alright, he adds, one grows through experience, some conflicts are worth going through. “It helps building character.”

Was the decision to play Roy Black a crystal clear one? Not at all, he responds smiling and closes his eyes for a second. “When my agent called me about it, my spontaneous reaction was: Complete humbug, and I can’t even listen to this music for three seconds.” It only became interesting for him when he learned that Roy Black originally wanted to play Rock ‘n’ Roll. Then he became interested in the tragedy of this character. And the thought that Roy Black’s wish was the desire for freedom and wildness, a wish many Germans shared, “which was inherent in the promising American machinery.” Although this freedom and wildness had always existed in Germany, lived out by people like Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, or Kandinsky.

“The film itself was great, but the marketing-weisenheimers managed to break this film. It would be a great cine film, but they advertised it as a sob story for television. Consequently, the real Roy-Black fans were disappointed, while the people who might have been interested in the movie judged: Leave me alone with this sob story twerp. Well, the weisenheimers are the weisenheimers, what can you do”, deems Christoph Waltz with a beautiful touch of Viennese sarcasm and barely noticeable risen eyebrows. One does not always have to instrumentalize the entire acting equipment with him. A few little cues are enough.

Many more films follow before someone calls from Hollywood and say he is supposed to participate in Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds. In our interview he calls this his “Quentin-jump”, where he is at eye level with Diane Kruger, Brad Pitt and Michael Fassbender in front of the camera. “Tarantino, we mentioned this before, stands for specificity and authenticity, he has an eye for both.” Did Christoph Waltz go into this production with a lot of respect? “With great respect.” He remembers an encounter with Sylvester Groth in front of a theatre in Babelsberg. “Every Thursday, Quentin showed movies during preparation. Once, Sylvester and I stood in front of the theatre and we both said: Imagine this, now we’ve been doing this for so long and suddenly we find ourselves here.” Then we paused for a few moments and kept going: Yes, and despite everything, we’re doing what we’ve always done – what we do, because that is what we do.”

Before Tarantino’s office could call again, other international projects followed, like The Green Hornet (with Cameron Diaz, Tom Wilkinson, James Franco) or Carnage (with Jodie Foster, Kate Winslet, John C. Reilly). Then Django Unchained (with Jamie Foxx, Leonardo DiCaprio, Samuel L. Jackson). For his role in Django Unchained, Christoph Waltz wins his second Oscar for best supporting actor in 2013 and Quentin wins another one for best original screenplay. But Christoph Waltz remains humble: “The opportunities presented to someone for personal growth always come to you through other people.” Although the actor always makes a binary decision. “Yes or no. Am I going to do it or not.”

Can one also make the wrong decision? “You decide for one or the other and from that other possibilities develop, but neither is better or worse.” That was not any different for Quentin Tarantino or for his first film and its director Reinhard Schwabenitzky, who saw him in acting school. Christoph Waltz leans forward and says confidentially: “The essential chances and opportunities were those which were presented to me by another mind, by a great talent, through a vision, which came from another person.” Nothing more, nothing less.

Yes, humility is a virtue. But we do not want to conceal the fact that Christoph Waltz was the first German-speaking host on Saturday Night Live and that he received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame (No. 2536, 6667 Hollywood Boulevard). The quote: “And Hollywood is always the goal.” Is correct, “like others say their goal is to get into heaven.” Hollywood, heaven: “I don’t mean to compare the two goals, but the setting of these goals. Especially Hollywood has been mythologized into more than it deserves credit for.” In this respect, as a myth, it is always the goal. Please don't tell anyone Christoph Waltz is over-the-top - the opposite is the case.

During our exchange in the Sacher, I mention one of my favorite books on film. It is Peter Biskind’s Easy Riders, Raging Bulls – How the Sex-Drugs-And-Rock’n’roll Generation saved Hollywood. It says: „There is no worse career move in Hollywood than dying. Hal Ashby is now largely forgotten, because he had the misfortune to die at the end of the 80’s, but he had the most remarkable run of any ’70 director. After ‚The Landlord‘, in 1970, he made ‚Harold and Maude‘, ‚The Last Detail‘, ‚Shampoo‘, ‚Bound for Glory‘, ‚Coming Home‘ and ‚Being there‘ in 1979, before his career disappeared into the dark tunnel of post-‘70’s, Me Decade Drugs and paranoia.“

It can be assumed that this won’t happen to Christoph Waltz? “That is a good example for the mythologizing I was referring to”, he responds. “I would claim that a legend like James Dean probably wouldn’t have developed at all, had he not driven himself to death in his Porsche at such a young age. Who knows what would have become of Marilyn Monroe, had she not put an early end to her complicated life.” And parallel to Hal Ashby, there probably were thousands of directors, who would have been happy to pay their next rent – by working in their profession. It is therefor about comparativeness.

Onto another career step, the James Bond movie Spectre, in which Christoph Waltz portrays the dark Blofeld, a character, who appeared in previous Bond movies. How do we have to imagine that? One sunny day the agent comes along and says: “You’re on the list for the next Bond movie”? Christoph Waltz knows there are no rules to this, especially when it is something like James Bond. A series that has been at the peak of possibilities for more than 50 years.” The producers have a lot to lose, they have to look very closely. Not only to keep up the standard, they also want to be ahead of their time.

Was it intriguing to play this bad boy a second time? Is it about an additional nuance of expertly irony; is it about the myth that is Bond? “This was another unique opportunity for me”, says Christoph Waltz, “a unique opportunity to include myself into such an incredibly successful series.” Now after Spectre, for the second time in No Time To Die – a title that can offer a bit of comfort in times of the world wide covid pandemic. And Christoph Waltz is in the Bond movie that will be Daniel Craig’s final Bond. “It’s his fourth Bond movie”, he counts, “the actors change but the role remains the same. Of course, the role acquires a different profile and thus, different facets.” But it remains James Bond. “And when a new actor gets the role, he has to fit into the role, not the other way around.” Once again, we will have to wait for this Bond movie. It will probably hit theatres in spring 2021.

It reminds one of Shakespeare’s Troilus and Cressida – we’ve seen it a dozen times but keep going to see it again. Nowadays you go to see the production, in the past you went to see whosit faithless. Speaking of productions: Are the demands towards a Bond director more extensive compared to other film projects? “Surely there are more things to keep an eye on compared to a low budget movie or an independent film. In productions like that, you often have to use the tools you have. In Denmark they had demands referring to this “, Christoph Waltz comments in a slightly mocking undertone. He means the group around Lars von Trier? “Precisely, they called it Dogma for fun, and the world took them seriously.” But that is part of it, right, part of the business.

Anyway, every little detail is carefully manufactured for a Bond movie. And that takes, apart from a lot of money, a great level of expertise and many employees, which combine into a story on film. “Legions of people work on every pixel, not to mention the light and the meaning of the music.” With all this in mind, it’s understandable how appealing it is to be in a movie like No Time To Die. Christoph Waltz has a lot of praise for the director, Cary Fukanaga: “He always knew exactly what he was doing and we knew exactly, why he did this or that”. Audiences were able to see this in previous projects, like the brilliant first season of True Detective, where he directed all eight episodes.

Christoph Waltz wouldn’t be Christoph Waltz if he didn’t show his extraordinary talents in unconventional projects as well, like the show Most Dangerous Game (with Liam Hemsworth, produced for Quibi). “What interested me there? The new dramatic form, it’s a story in 16 sections, each section only eight minutes long. We’re dealing with a new form of storytelling.” Does it remind him of the continuous comics that used to be in US-newspapers a few decades ago?

“Yes, it’s connected to that – but it also reminds me of Charles Dickens, who published many of his novels as newspaper installments. In Most Dangerous Game the great story arch is not lost, the suspense is carried from one episode into the next. “That is a sleight of hand.” And for that he received an Emmy nomination, and it wouldn’t be surprising if he was to win the prestigious award one day. But he pulled off other sleight of hands in the past. Or how the New York Times says in a headline: “Christoph Waltz directing Opera, moves from Tarantino to Verdi.” Adding his old comment to this: “The full-blooded, juicy movie experience has a lot of operatic qualities. I’m not talking about the film music, but about the rhythm and color and phrasing.” After “Der Rosenkavalier” (Music: Richard Strauss, Libretto: Hugo von Hofmannsthal), which he staged at the Antwerp Opera, came Giuseppe Verdi’s “Falstaff”, his second opera there.

“I’m not a fan of the never-seen-before concept”, says Christoph Waltz. He agrees with Susan Sontag’s essay Against Interpretation – in opera, there is a fix story, and the music is the central transmitter of this story. Over-interpretations can quickly become “dangerous sliding tackles.” Waltz wants to avoid those. “I want to show what the composers and authors meant.” He stayed true to Sontag’s principle in all three of his opera productions, the third on being Beethoven’s only opera “Fidelio”.

He is self-critical enough, “to personally take the risk of failing.” What would be the alternative?

“I’m just an actor, now what do the music critics, who take themselves so seriously say? Some foam at the mouth and brawl ‘the movie-bod is interfering in the opera’.” He prefers the critics that are capable of formulating things between the lines. “When I read elsewhere, that the very thing I was trying to convey can be seen in detail, then I’m quietly happy about it.” Sadly, the live performances of Fidelio fell victim to the covid-crisis, but there was a TV-screening on ORF, which can certainly be called presentable with 11% of the market-share. “During ‘Fidelio’ I first realized physically that music is a spatial experience.” Here fits another Waltz-quote: “Strip away anything that us unnecessary.” Ergo: Reduce the action to the interaction between the characters. That is an art he mastered to perfection in acting.”

For once, I could surprise the cleaned up, chatty, well-tempered Christoph Waltz with a little research.

In his birthyear, 1956, his fellow countryman Walter Felsenstein, founder and artistic director of the “Komische Oper” in Berlin filmed a version of “Fidelio”. To this day, it remains the only film adaptation of the opera. Probably because – so the actor quotes Felsenstein – “this opera technically is impossible to stage”, he says with aplomb, an attitude that suits him. In ballet an aplomb describes the ability to absorb a movement, the balance.

Christoph Waltz not only shoots a lot of movies, but he also enjoys reading one particular movie critic: Anthony Lane of the New Yorker. Surely one of the most sharpened critics, who outtalks someone or rubs the reader’s nose into his alleged ignorance. We start talking about Lane via a new movie by the fabulous Agnieszka Holland, “Mr. Jones” – referring to Gareth Jones, advisor to the former British Prime Minister Lloyd George. Jones uncovers that the devastating hunger crisis in the Ukraine in 1932/33 was exclusively due to Stalin’s exploiting politics. Anthony Lane writes in inimitable fashion: „Is it conceivable that Holland’s bleak, murky, and instructive film could prompt a change of heart in the current Russian establishment, or even a confession of crimes past? Not a chance.“ Greetings from Belarus.

And of course, we also talk about COVID, what does an actor do who can’t act during these times? Is he reading Robert Musil’s novel The Man Without Qualities, which has more than 1000 pages? “Oh, I’ve already attempted to read this three times. The first time, I got to page 200, the second time I got to page 400, the third time I put it away after 100 pages.” But he doesn’t fully abandon the idea of finishing it one day. “But that would really be a true accomplishment of discipline”, he underlines, allusively smiling. Less amusing is the current stagnancy in Hollywood, where Christoph Waltz lives with his wife and daughter for the most part. “It will be illuminating once things pick up again”, he ponders “will a reforming spirit take over, or will everything fall back into the old, ignorant patterns, or even cause worse?” The temporary dysfunctionality of Hollywood is comparable to a dysfunctional family, which mechanisms become especially clear during crisis. Now he visited his mother here in Vienna. I allow myself the question, “Is Vienna your home?” “Vienna is my home, home is something you can’t choose, like your parents. Everything else can become your center of living, all that is willingly moveable – but home, home cannot be changed at will.”

#christoph waltz #max magazine

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btsqualityy · 5 years ago

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Never Thought

Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut, fluff

Warnings: unprotected sex, creampie

Author’s Note: So, I’m back with another installment of NSFW imagines for the couples from the Toddler Series! You do not need to have read the Toddler Series (or any of my other series, for that matter) in order to read this, since it’s a stand alone. Despite the current Second Pregnancy Series that I have ongoing right now, all 7 of these imagines are set before the members are expecting their second (or third, in Hobi’s case) child. I hope you guys enjoy them!

You held Yoongi’s hand as the two of you walked down the hallway in the hotel where the members’ rooms were, flanked by security guards and the other members and their wives. You all had just left the MAMA awards, where the members had a monumental night in that they won all four daesangs, in addition to five other awards.

“Yoongi hyung, make sure you get some rest tonight since we fly back tomorrow afternoon,” Namjoon spoke up as he gave both you and Yoongi a knowing look.

“Shut up,” Yoongi grumbled and you couldn’t help but to laugh.

“Don’t worry Joon, we’ll be good,” you promised with a smirk, making Namjoon shake his head. You and Yoongi then got to the door of your hotel room, bidding good night to the members and their staff before walking inside and shutting the door.

“I’m exhausted but I’m also starving,” Yoongi said as he flipped the lock on the door.

“Wanna order room service?” You asked him as you held your hand out to him, waiting for him to grab it to hold you steady before you took your heels off.

“Mm, I don’t know,” he shrugged noncommittally. Once both of your heels were off, you threw them off to the side before giving Yoongi a small smile.

“I’m gonna go take a shower, wanna join?” You wondered and Yoongi chuckled as he nodded.

“You go ahead though,” he told you as he reached down and patted your butt softly. “I’m gonna call my mom and check on Kins and then I’ll come join you.”

“You know that she’s probably asleep,” you chuckled. “But alright.” The two of you then went your separate ways in the room, you walking into the bathroom and Yoongi moving to sit down on the bed as you shut the bathroom door behind you.

.........................

Yoongi never ended up joining you in the shower, which didn’t surprise you in the least since he had mentioned how tired he was so you figured that he had just fallen asleep after calling and checking on your daughter. Once you had dried off and changed into Yoongi’s BTS jersey, you stepped out of the bathroom ready to fight with your husband since you were almost certain that he had fallen asleep still dressed, but nothing could have compared you for what you saw.

Yoongi was sitting straight up in the bed, his back against the headboard and still fully dressed, but tears were streaming down his face and his entire face was damp. You quickly threw your dress on top of your suitcase before climbing onto the bed and crawling over to him, setting your hand on his shoulder.

“Yoongs? Baby, what’s wrong?” You asked him, alarmed to see your husband bawling the way that he was. He shook his head, and you were almost tempted to roll your eyes at his attempt to brush you off.

“Yoongi, what’s wrong?” You repeated. “Is it Kins? Is she ok?” He nodded immediately at that and you let out a sigh of relief that you didn’t even know you were holding in. You were still confused though, because you knew the only things that could bring Yoongi to tears like this was if something were to happen to either you or Kins but since the two of you were fine, you had no idea what it could be.

“Hey,” you whispered softly, setting your hands on his cheeks and gently lifting his face up, your heart breaking when you saw his red eyes and tears that just wouldn’t stop falling. “Talk to me baby.”

“I just,” he paused as his voice cracked and you stayed quiet until he trusted his voice enough to continue. “I just never thought my life would be like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bangtan won nine awards tonight, including all four daesangs. Just the other day, we won all of the daesangs at MMA,” he sighed. “That in and of itself is fucking unbelievable but when I called my mom to talk to Kins, she was awake and she said that she was proud of me. My three year old daughter is proud of me.”

“Oh Yoongs,” you sighed, moving onto his lap so that you were straddling him before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug. It took a few seconds before he reacted but once he did, he wrapped his arms around your abdomen and buried his face into your neck as his sobs became harder again. The two of you stayed like that for quite a while, Yoongi’s sobs gradually becoming less wrecked as you gently scratched his scalp with your fingers that you had tangled in his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled suddenly and you couldn’t help the scoff that escaped you as you pulled back to look down at his face.

“We’ve been married for almost eight years now and you’re apologizing because I caught you crying?”

“I hate it though and you know that,” he muttered. “I literally have no reason to cry right now.”

“You can feel like that but I think I understand why you are crying though,” you said. “Remember how you cried after the AMAs?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it the same situation?” You guessed. “Are you feeling overwhelmed by the expectations that people may have now?”

“Yeah, but that’s not the majority of it though,” he said.

“Well, explain it to me then Yoongs,” you told him.

“All those years ago, when I first stated doing music, I never thought that I was gonna end up here eventually,” he sighed. “Hell, you know that just surviving was good for me for a while, but I never dared to hope that I’d end up with the life that I have now. I’m a member of a group that I love and we’re doing better than we ever thought that we would, I’m married to the woman of my dreams and we’re still as in love with each other as we were when we got married, and we have a gorgeous daughter who looks at me like I could take the moon out of the sky and hand it to her.”

“And you’re just now really sitting back and taking stock of all that,” you finished for him and he nodded, thankful that you knew what he meant and that he didn’t have to further explain. “That’s normal baby, especially given how fast everything has happened and how busy you and the members are these days.”

“I don’t want to seem unappreciative, but what the fuck did I do differently than any other person in my same situation to deserve all of this?” He wondered and you frowned, knowing exactly where your husband was going with that thought and you refused to let him get there.

“Yoongi, no,” you shushed him as you moved your hands out of his hair and brought them down to cup his cheeks again. “Don’t go there, please. You’re the greatest man I know and you’re more than deserving of every good thing that has happened to you so far.”

“Doesn’t really feel like it,” he murmured. You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to think of a way to convey to him just how amazing and needed he was. Your eyes widened a little when an idea finally popped into your head, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Yoongi.

“What?” He asked you.

“Will you let me show you how deserving you are?” You wondered and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“How?” You didn’t respond verbally, instead ducking your head down and leaving open mouthed kisses on his neck. “Oh, like that,” he chuckled.

“You’re a lot more receptive during sex,” you murmured against his skin.

“Thanks for basically saying that I think with my dick.”

“Your words, not mine,” you giggled, lifting your head to look at him again. The two of you maintained eye contact as you lifted yourself up, your hands falling onto his belt buckle and undoing it. “Let me take care of you.”

“You always do,” he smiled softly and you couldn’t help but to do the same as you undid the button on his slacks, reaching inside and pulling his underwear down just enough for his hard cock to be freed. You then brought your hand up to your mouth, letting some spit from your mouth fall onto your fingertips before you reached down and rubbed your wet fingers over your slit.

“Let me do all the work, yeah?” You said as you sunk down onto his cock, the both of you letting out simultaneous groans at the feeling. Yoongi nodded and brought his hands up to rest on either side of your waist, maintaining eye contact with you as you started to move on top of him.

“So you say that you don’t know how you’re the one that made it this far,” you whispered to him, setting your hands on his cheeks again as you stared into his eyes. “But you’re a fucking genius Yoongs. I’ve never met or even heard of anybody who has music running through their veins the way that you do. It’s your natural born talent.”

“A lot of people have the same natural born talent,” he murmured back, his eyes fluttering closed for a minute as you lifted yourself all the way up so that the tip of his cock was inside of you before sinking back down.

“That’s another thing. You have the drive,” you continued. “You went through a lot of shit to get to where you are now, and I don’t need to recount any of it to you because you know.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his grip on your waist tightening.

“And you always say that you don’t know what you did to deserve me, but baby I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you admitted, grinding on top of him and letting out a moan at the feeling. “Before I met you, I wasn’t concerned about finding someone that I wanted to marry or have my kids with. Hell, the thought of getting married and having kids actually annoyed me for a while.”

“You never told me that,” he muttered, lifting the jersey that you had on up and out of the way so that he could grab ahold of your breasts. You whimpered as he pinched your nipples in between two fingers, your head falling back in pleasure.

“I never said anything because it didn’t matter,” you replied. “Once I met you, I knew that you were the one that I wanted to marry and the only man I would want to have my future children with and I was right. You love me so fucking hard and I need that Yoongi. You’re amazing with Kins and that makes me love you so much more, which I didn’t even think was fucking possible.”

“Min,” he murmured with a small smile, his hands leaving your breasts to move down and cup your ass.

“And I fucking love it when you call me that,” you confessed in a rush, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. Your thighs began to tremble and you knew that you were extremely close to coming. “It reminds me that I’m yours, which is all I’ve ever wanted to be ever since I met you in that nightclub.”

“And I’m sure the amazing orgasm that I gave you 30 minutes after that helped too,” He wondered with a smirk, making you laugh in spite of your tears and your orgasm that was surely creeping up on you.

“Well, I did always say that if I ever got married, I wanted to marry a man who could make me come,” you nodded.

“And do I?”

“Always, and you’re about to,” you announced.

“Me too baby,” he said. “Ride me a little faster.” You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, using that as leverage to lift yourself up and down faster. The orgasm that had been sneaking up on you approached faster and faster until it hit you suddenly, making you let out an extremely loud moan into Yoongi’s ear as you came on his cock.

“Fuck Yoongs,” you whimpered and Yoongi let out a guttural moan as he gripped the cheeks of your ass harder.

“I’m about to come,” he whispered and you lifted your head in order to look at him.

“Fill me up Yoongs,” you told him. “I’m yours, all yours.”

“Promise?” He murmured and you nodded, your tears starting up again at the vulnerable look on his face.

“I promise, always,” you swore, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his, kissing him passionately. He groaned against your lips as his cum flooded into you and you hummed in response. Once you thought that he was done coming, you stopped moving your hips and pulled away from his lips, bringing your hands up to wipe away his tears that had fallen.

“Thank you,” he whispered after about a minute of silence.

“I’m your wife, I’m always gonna be here for you,” you told him.

“I know.”

“Me and Kinsley, as well as the members and your family, all love you so much,” you whispered. “Our lives wouldn’t be the same if we didn’t have you.”

“Ditto Min. I love you so much baby,” he replied.

“I love you too Min Yoongi,” you smiled, leaning forward and kissing him again. After a few seconds, the two of you pulled away and Yoongi sighed harshly.

“God, all of this fucking and crying has made me even hungrier,” he chuckled. “Wanna order room service?”

“Oh fuck yes,” you nodded, lifting yourself up and off of his cock before rolling over to the other side of the bed, grabbing the phone off of the bedside table and dialing the number for room service. Yoongi just silently watched you the entire time, extremely thankful to have met his soulmate in you.

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raibebe · 5 years ago

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Tears and Anxiety

Genre: Angst Words: 2.519 Prompt: Smile for me again For anon A/N: I’m not crying, you are crying.

You were used to your boyfriend’s job and the consequences it had for your relationship. Not being able to see him in public or having to act like you were just another member of Starship staff that he was grabbing a coffee or takeout food with had been hard at the beginning but you had leaned to accept it. You two were always making up for that with date nights at your house where he would cook for you and watch movies cuddled together under a fluffy blanket, sometimes falling asleep together which got him into trouble more than once already. But Kihyun always said that it was worth it if it meant that he could wake up to your beautiful face, so peaceful when you slept.

The worst thing had always been the weeks where his schedule was so full that he needed every free second to rest his body so he could go on the next day. A small message or a personal selca just for you, the only interaction both of you could share.

Not being close to him made you uneasy. You weren’t a jealous person per se but sometimes seeing him interact with all the beautiful female dancers and idols and even flashing them his bright smile made your insides turn in both jealousy and anxiety. You just couldn’t compete with any of them if they tried to win over his heart.

Why you had started to go down the hellhole of YouTube videos of Kihyun doing exactly this, you weren’t sure yourself. But within minutes you were fighting against your tears, heart aching and clenching painfully.

One particular pretty woman kept appearing in the recent fancams and you kept replaying the part of one specific video, where she was touching your boyfriend’s naked arm which made him first smile shyly before he flexed his arm which resulted in the woman further touching his arm.

Objectively it was just in innocent touch, one person congratulating the other, but to you it seemed like to much more. Kihyun never let anyone just touch him, except for his fellow members. And he most definitely wouldn’t let a woman touch him like that if they weren’t close.

With a loud slap you slammed your laptop shut. The image was burned into your head anyways. Tears were making their way down your cheeks and your body began to shake.

You had always questioned why a man like Kihyun would be with such an ordinary woman like you when he could literally have anyone he wanted. He just needed to flash his bright smile and open his pouty lips to serenade them with his angelic voice and anyone would be lying at his feet.

Hiding deeper in the sweater Kihyun had left you the last time he had been here, you let your tears run freely down your cheeks, the sweater - which only very faintly carried the scent of your boyfriend - getting soaked.

Hiccupping you blindly grabbed your phone and opened the chat with Kihyun. The last message he had sent you was a picture of him with the last award he had won, smiling brightly. Another wave of sadness washed over you. Did he send those pictures to the other woman as well? Smiling that smile that you thought was reserved for you. Or did he send her other pictures? More intimate ones?

Was that it? You being reluctant to be intimate with him? Was he getting the intimacy somewhere else? The rational part of your mind knew that he wouldn’t do that, he had been raised rather conservative as well. But to your mind that was clouded with anxiety and sadness it made perfect sense.

Unlocking your phone again, you typed just one simple sentence with shaking fingers: ‘I’m sorry that I’m not enough.’ Pressing send and throwing the phone somewhere into the mess of blankets, you began sobbing again. It was over. He didn’t love you and you weren’t enough for him. You probably never were. And would never be.

Exhausted from all the crying, you fell asleep, not hearing the vibrations of your phone nor the familiar voice that was talking onto the answering machine with a worried voice.

The next morning you woke up from the sun shining merciless through the thin curtains of your windows. Barely being able to open your eyes because they were so swollen from crying all night, the memories came back to you.

Your boyfriend didn’t love you and you had ended it between you two. Fumbling to unlock your phone to see what time it was, you saw that you had multiple missed calls and messages not only from Kihyun but surprisingly also from the other members. Some more friendly than others. You left all of them on read and went over to the kitchen to open the fridge to grab something to eat. But staring at the food, you realized that you weren’t even hungry, so you just opted for a bottle of water and went to your bedroom instead.

Closing the blinds, you lay down and stared at the ceiling. You felt weirdly empty. Not even really sad anymore. Just empty. Like your heart had been cut out and all that was left was a black void.

The sound of your phone buzzing freed you from your stupor. Without looking who actually was calling, you picked up, not saying anything. “I swear to god if she doesn’t pick up soon, I’m going to call the police”, you heard a deep voice saying. The man obviously didn’t notice that you had picked up the phone. Another voice answered him in the background, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying. “I know, we have to cheer up Kihyun-hyung somehow or he will go mad”, the first voice spoke again.

“Why would he?” you asked the voice. “Shit”, the voice cursed, sounding startled. “You actually picked up the phone, finally. What has gotten into you, noona?” “Nothing.” “Nothing?” The voice repeated what you just had said, cracking slightly. It was Changkyun. “Kihyun-hyung is sitting in the waiting room and is devastated, he barely slept last night and tried to call you about twenty times because you decided to send cryptic messages and then ghost him!”

That didn’t make any sense. Why would Kihyun feel this way? They must have misunderstood something. The voice from the background was saying something again and the next thing you heard were shuffling noises before another voice spoke to you: “Just pick up his calls and quit hurting his feelings.” It belonged to Minhyuk and he really didn’t sound like himself. “His feelings?” You were confused. He must be happy now that he didn’t have to keep up the charade with you anymore. “Yes, his feelings. He’s obviously hurt and we have to be on stage in about fifteen minutes and he’s not himself.” A quiet sob left your lips and you quickly covered your mouth. “Are you crying?” Minhyuk asked clearly confused.

Shaking your head you screwed your eyes shut, trying to hold the tears back. Why did it affect you so much? Where was the black void that was filling you minutes ago? Why was the same place inside your chest now filled with sadness and tears? Ending the call and actually shutting down your phone, you turned to silence your hiccupped sobs in your pillow, grabbing the blanket tightly and forcing your body to stop shaking like dry leaves in the wind.

When you turned around to grab some tissues from the nightstand, your eyes fell on the picture frame standing there instead. Kihyun gave it to you before he went on world tour last year. Changkyun had taken the picture where you were sleeping in Kihyun’s embrace at the dorms, his bright orange locks framing his face, smiling down on you fondly and brushing one hand through your hair. The words he had written on the frame became blurry when tears began obscuring your vision yet again.

You had never cried this much in your life. But it also had never hurt so bad in your chest. Almost every item in your apartment keeping memories you had shared with your now ex-boyfriend. It was just too much. Closing your eyes again and hiding away under your warm blanket, you prayed that sleep would take you soon so you could just stop feeling for a couple of hours.

The shrill sound of your doorbell ripped you from the sweet grip sleep had on you. Groaning you turned around to look at the clock on your bedside table. The neon lights flashed you an ungodly hour to have someone come over to your house. Turning around your pillow so you could keep on sleeping on the cold side, you decided to ignore whoever was at the door. You didn’t feel like talking to anybody anyways.

After some seconds of beautiful silence, the doorbell rang again and the person standing outside was knocking against your door, sound echoing through your small apartment. When you still didn’t budge, the knocking tuned into banging.

“I know you are home, stop ignoring me!” A voice travelled through the wooden door. A voice that was way too familiar. A voice that made you feel again. It sounded strained. But that could just be the distance and the obstacles between you and the voice.

“Open this goddamn door!” he screamed again and banged against the door again. If he would keep this up, the neighbours would wake up, so you forced yourself out of bed and stepped up to your front door.

“What do you want?” You asked quietly through the door, trying to fix the mess that your hair was after sleeping for almost a whole day.

The banging stopped, instead you heard shuffling in front of the door. “Please open the door and let me talk to you.” Kihyun sounded so unlike himself. Smaller. Gone was his usual confidence. “What do you want to talk about?” You asked, hand on the doorknob. “What have I done wrong?” His voice cracked. The voice of Monsta X’s main vocal cracked. Cracked. His voice never cracked.

Surprised you actually opened the door. Before you stood your ex-boyfriend. He really didn’t look good. His light brown hair was a mess, poking out from underneath the hood of an oversized black sweater, hiding his features. When he lowered the hood you could see that his whole face was puffy and his eyes were red, looking at you with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

When he made a step towards you, reaching out to touch you, you stepped aside so he could come in. His eyes seemed hurt but he stepped in nevertheless and headed to the living room where he sat down on the couch, his body looking small and lost in his big clothes.

Your heat hurt seeing him like this, you felt how the sadness filled you again, how your lower lip started trembling and how tears began filling your eyes. “What are you doing here?” you asked him quietly, remaining standing in front of the couch. Kihyun ruffled his hair and looked up at you, dark eyes big and full of that look that you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you be enough for me?”

Taken aback, your mind went blank. Didn’t he understand? Or did he want to torture you?

You felt your legs give out and your knees hit the ground. Your body was shaking with tears again. You didn’t even know why you were crying. Because this was probably the last time you would be seeing him in person? Embarrassed you hid your face in your hands.

Suddenly a pair of strong hands pushed you against a chest and Kihyun’s scent filled you senses. It was all too much. You hid further in his hoodie and began shaking.

“Why are you here Kihyun?” You spoke in between sobs. “Do you want to torture me even more? Why are you not with that other pretty woman? I’m nothing special, I understand it, if you want to leave me. Just take your things, I’ll be fine. Why won’t you just leave and be happy with her?”

You felt Kihyun take a deep breath before a laugh bubbled out of him. Why was he laughing at you? Did he think it was funny how much power he had over you?

Angry and confused you emerged from his now wet sweater and looked up at him. He cradled your face between his soft palms, kissed your forehead and gently and rubbed away your tears with his thumbs.

“But none of them make my heat jump like you do. I love you, jagiya. Even though you are so stupid sometimes”, he reassured you and smiled lovingly, his dimples showing and eyes turning into crescents. “And now forget about that and smile for me again.”

You didn’t understand and opened your mouth to argue with him, but he didn’t let you speak and closed your mouth with his soft lips instead.

“I love you and only you.” He whispered on your lips when he broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours, thumbs still rubbing gently over your cheeks even though you had stopped crying.

Smiling gently, he kissed you again and this time you melted into him. Arm around his neck, you pulled him flush with your body and grabbed his damp hair. Given your awkward position on the floor, he collapsed onto you, which made you both break the kiss and giggle.

Kissing the top of your head, he pulled you against his chest again. “I love you, understand?”

You nodded against him, hiding your red face in his sweater again. “Don’t let those woman touch you”, you mumbled into his chest, voice sulky. “That’s what got you all worked up?” He sounded surprised. “That stupid video that went around on Twitter yesterday?” You nodded. When he said it like that it sounded embarrassing. He laughed at you again. “Don’t laugh!” You scolded him and hit his chest.

You pouted you lips and looked up at him from under your lashes. “You looked really comfortable together.” Kihyun’s smile was soft, when he placed a quick kiss on your lips. “That’s one of the noonas who are doing our hair and make-up. She was away for a couple of months because she had a baby and was surprised to see how we all progressed in the short time. Nothing more, jagiya.”

“I’m sorry”, you mumbled, fumbling with the tassels of the hoodie. “I should be used to it by now.” He sighed and kissed your blushed cheek. “I know this relationship isn’t easy for you which is why I was so worried, jagiya. But you are the one who holds my heart in her hands, okay?” “I just can’t help it sometimes…” “Then just call me next time, okay? And don’t scare me with cryptic messages.” You nodded and placed a quick kiss on his lips.

“I love you too.”

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prorevenge · 6 years ago

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Friend tries to get me fired, but I turn the tables...

Hey everyone, this is my first post so take it easy on me please! I've tried to keep the story concise, but it's not a strong point of mine so, this is a very long post... Sorry!

TL;DR is at the bottom :)

Context:

I'm a Year 9 student (British schooling system) and go to a very good school. This is a massive privilege to have, and I'm massively thankful for it. Our school has a magazine which we print and distribute to teachers, students and parents, and it is very popular! I am fortunate enough to be the Assistant Editor of the magazine (I basically format and check the magazine, while making sure everyone in the committee is doing well) and it's hard work. As part of this role, I have to teach and mentor the new students and get them used to the new system.

Being in the committee is like having a job, so balancing it with school is tough, and lots of newbies drop out very quick when they begin to realise that they can't handle the work load. I enjoy teaching the new guys, as it's mostly people who love writing as much as I do and it really gives us a connection that does stick around. However, last year, I had a very bad 'mentoree', whom I dislike to this very day...

Cast:

Me - Take a guess WI - Very cool and kind teacher and head editor of the mag AM - Arsehole mentoree BF - One of my best friends

Now, I knew AM before he joined the committee; we were friends, we'd been into town with each other a bit, and we were good mates, so I was excited to be mentoring him. The way mentoring works is that there are 7 tasks to complete and have checked by your mentor, leading up to a big review six weeks after one first joins. The tasks are fairly easy; learn how to Photoshop pictures for the photographers and learning the formatting of the articles to make my life easier :). Now, I teach the mentorees in a way which means that I set them a task (e.g. Task 1) and it has a deadline which I will take in the work, check it, and give feedback on. It works well, and I have always done the mentoring this way.

When I set the first task for AM, I was really confident in his ability. Because we were (and still are) at a really good school, I genuinely believed that he would do it and I'd have no problems. However, as you've probably guessed, I was very wrong. When it was time for his first task to be checked, this happened:

Me: Where's the work, AM?

AM: I wasn't able to do it, Mercent_...

Me: Why? It was a fairly simple task. If you had any problems, I told you to ask me about them.

AM: Well, the thing is... [AM takes a massive breath and I expect the worst] my dad just got in a really bad car accident and I've been at the hospital the past few days.

I was shocked. This guy's dad was in intensive care, and I was ready to give him a hard time for not doing some work. I immediately apologised and almost had a panic attack. I gave him an extra week to do his work. I was a terrible person. I went home and sobbed about how mean I was ready to be. I came in the next day and avoided him as much as possible. At this point, I didn't even suspect at thing. When it came to his second task (and the first task as well) being checked, I was nervous but prepared:

Me: How did you find the work?

AM: I couldn't finish either of them.

At this point, I was just pissed. He'd told me privately that he wasn't in the hospital as much anymore, so I was confused.

Me: Come on, this is starting to get silly. Your review is soon, and you haven't even started the tasks!

AM: Mercent_ it's because my cat got put down. It was really old, and I've had it since birth, so I was really attached to it.

This really made me upset. I have two cats, and I love them to pieces; I couldn't even imagine their death. So I told AM I was sorry, but he needed to either get the work done or take an official break and leave the committee briefly (this gets put on a report which is kept by WI, and it's about the bad things a person in the committee had done). This back and forth of "Work?" "Nope, and here's why..." went on until literally the day before his review. I had sat down with him and spoke to him about how he had not done any of the work and had 6+ hours of work to do for the next day. He was really apologetic, but I had become totally immune to his shenanigans by this point; he'd really ticked me off. By this point, I didn't know if he was lying or not, but I had my suspicions.

Then his review came around; I was terrified. You see, as his mentor, if he does badly, I get in trouble for not doing my job well enough. I am a massive goody-two-shoes. I've never had a detention, and I was petrified of getting one as my parents would not approve. AM, WI and I sit down and when WI asks to see the work, AM says he hasn't got any of it. Before I can interrupt and explain the situation, AM goes on to say that he had handed in all of the work but I had said that none of it was good enough, and threw it all out before the review. WI gave me a death stare. I was crapping bricks.

In my first year of being in the committee, I had lied to WI about doing some work. This had been put on my report and I got screamed at for 15 minutes straight. He said I had delayed printing by over a week, and I was incompetent, etc. (we moved past it and now we enjoy each other's company very much!) and essentially if I made any mistakes, I was getting fired. I looked at AM, shocked about what he'd said, and stuttered to WI the actually situation, and all the lies he'd told me. WI didn't believe me, as not so long ago... I. Had. Lied.

I then made it my absolute mission to prove everything he had told me and WI wrong, but there was one problem; I didn't arrange anything over a traceable source; I hadn't emailed him or texted him, other than on Snapchat, but that deletes messages after being read. It looked like I was going to get fired, and I only had a few days to prove my innocence before I was gone.

The Plan (finally!)

That evening, I went into town with some friends (AM wasn't present) and I sat down with BF. She was texting AM on iMessage (a key detail), so I told her what happened about the committee and AM. She was shocked, and believed me over AM. This is when a plan was hatched.

Firstly, I needed evidence, and BF gave me exactly what I needed. She took AM into town on a 'date' as he liked her. She then began a conversation about she heard I was being nominated for an award about my writing for the school magazine (this was actually true, I won an award for England's Young Journalist of the Year and Best Featured Article about my transgender sister #humblebrag). BF then set her phone to record the ENTIRE CONVERSATION! This included AM admitting to screw me over so he could eventually take my position as Assistant Editor. BF then sent this to me, and I stored it on my computer in sweet revenge.

I sent the voice message to WI and he, too, was shocked. He apologised profusely to me and I told him that I didn't want him to fire AM yet and then told him my plan. He was worried, but on board because of what he did to me. I met with AM the next day, to 'apologise' for being too harsh about his tasks, and beg for him to retract his statement about me. He obviously said no. As protocol states, I had to give other members my ongoing articles, and I gave AM my award-winning transgender article and said that I had changed so it was talking about a different girl rather than my sister. However, I actually changed it to make it horribly trans-phobic. Like disgustingly trans-phobic. He thanked me, and left.

The next few weeks, I didn't show up to any meetings and made it seem like I had actually been kicked out, but I stayed aware of the situation in the committee and kept up to date on my articles. Because this was the kind of person he was, AM didn't even read the article I had sent him before he handed it in, so WI received a heavily transphobic and sexist article which AM wrote, supposedly. WI called AM into his room and AM was screamed at for writing such a horrible article, and then played the voice tape back for him so he knew that he'd been caught. The headteacher of the school found out about the article AM had wrote and AM was put in isolation (you get taught on your own in a separate room, where you spend lunch and break, etc.) for a week! He was also fired from the committee immediately, and got a mark on his permanent record.

TL;DR - Friend tried to get me in trouble, admitted to it on recording, then got in trouble himself for a while.

I hope you enjoyed the story, and if you read the entire thing, you're truly a trooper, cheers! If you've got any burning questions about the post and any intricate details or feedback for me, comment it please! Cheers lads and ladies :)

(source) story by (/u/Mercent_)

#prorevenge #by /u/Mercent_#pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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ti-bae-rius · 5 years ago

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Everyone talks about abusive romantic relationships, but not friendships. Here’s my story:

I didn’t think you could be abused by a friend. I didn’t think that was a thing because no one spoke about it, and if they did they didn’t frame it as “abuse”. Bad friends were “toxic” and “problematic” but never “abusive”.

When I started at university, I had literally no one. I was autistic and couldn’t really make friends. I went out for a couple of nights with fellow non-drinkers, but my only friend was in a different department of the university.

I met someone in one of my intro lectures who was smart and liked the same stuff as me and seemed sweet. She was bubbly and smiley and girly and I had never seen anyone like that get labelled as “abusive”, so she seemed like a good bet.

I won’t give you all the backstory, but me and her housemate became close friends very quickly. This was unusual for me. I don’t make friends easily or quickly so I was amazed. These girls, who knew about makeup and fashion and dating, wanted to be my friend. They didn’t mind that I was gay or autistic - or so I thought.

I’d never understood what microaggressions were. People were mean or they weren’t, right? But I started to notice little things. I talked about things they made me feel bad. I went to events and they got angry I didn’t invite them. I knew they talked about me behind my back, but what was I going to do? I didn’t have any other friends. I hadn’t had the opportunity to make any and we were heading into our second year. Everyone had groups that felt impenetrable and I was too shy to try and introduce myself anyway. They hated my other friends, distanced me from one of my best friends. They were my best friends now.

I knew this because they insisted I keep some stuff at their house. Some food and drink, some clothes, some games. They weren’t expensive, but they meant a lot to me and it felt important that I was sharing it with them. I never got that stuff back, because things turned sour quickly.

I went to an event and mentioned to one of them to invite the other. They didn’t. And I was blamed. I began receiving essays about why I was a terrible person - and I mean essays. I didn’t know that iMessage had an expand feature, where if you typed a long enough message it wouldn’t fit and it would open in a document window. I received multiple of them telling me why I was a bad friend. It was the holidays and I knew when I got back after Christmas everything would be terrible. These weren’t girls who would silent treatment me. These were girls who would destroy any chance of me making other friends if I let them.

IThey’d asked me to move in with them once, and - being autistic - I panicked about the sudden move. They wanted an answer by midnight. Later, I called them to say I needed more time, but that I would put my deposit down. They stayed on the phone with me for an hour telling me all the reasons they didn’t want to live with me, how annoying I’d be, how difficult, how it would take a very particular person to put up with me. My parents were in France, all my friends were away in different cities, I didn’t have anyone left - everyone I loved they’d pushed away. I just laid on the sofa and sobbed my way through meltdowns and panic attacks until I fell asleep.

I was not the same person after that friendship than I was before. I was having daily panic attacks, debilitating meltdowns, and my family was worried. I had no idea how I was going to go back to university. Plus, the one friend I did have was being manipulated by them. Luckily, he stuck by me. That person is Liam, and I’m forever grateful for him seeing in those people the true colours I never could.

But things got better, slowly. I went back to uni. I got some therapy and counselling. I even started doing the things they’d always told me I would never be able to do. I started giving lectures and seminars, writing papers. I won awards for them. I got invited to speak at events, paid to write. I made friends at university with people they told me wouldn’t like me. I became friends with Liam, rekindled the old friendships they made me drop, got back in touch with family I’d isolated myself from. My grades came up - from 2:2s to 1sts.

I didn’t feel like I deserved to be sad. I wasn’t a victim, right? These were friends. Bad friends, sure, but not abusers. Women couldn’t abuse. Friends couldn’t abuse. Right? And they’d been so nice to me. Even when they were spitting insults, they’d reassure me it was for my own good, that I needed to hear the ugly truth, that it was just reality. Sometimes, I still worry I did the wrong thing by leaving. Sometimes I still feel bad, wonder if maybe they were right and it was all my fault. But I know it isnt, and even in their echo chamber of two where I know they’re probably still ranting about me, I’m away from their horrible words.

If you’re in an abusive friendship, or think you are, please know you’re not alone and that abusive friendships ARE a thing. It might not look like “Go change; your clothes are awful”, or “You’re ugly and unlovable”, but it can be subtle. If their words make the voice in your head say those things, you need to get out. If every person in your life feels distant now because you have them, you need to get out. If you are sad or anxious when they say “we need to talk”, you need to get out. And if you’re afraid to tell them you need to get out, you DEFINITELY need to get out.

I believe in you. You’re strong. You can do this. And we can recover from it, together.

#lauryn rambles #not tsc #personal #tw abuse #tw abusive friendships #tw toxic people #cw abuse #cw abusive friendships

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torestoreamends · 6 years ago

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Olivier Awards 2019: The Inheritance, Company, and Come From Away

This year’s Olivier Awards have just been handed out in an evening that seemed (over the radio) to be warm, equitable, fair, and celebratory. For me, having seen the vast majority of the nominated shows, there didn’t seem to be an award that went to the wrong place, and I was delighted to see such a range of different shows acknowledged.

I was particularly pleased that A Monster Calls won the Entertainment and Family category – it was a powerful and beautiful show, and I hadn’t really expected it to be honoured, even though it thoroughly deserved to be. My other shout out goes to Six which, although it didn’t win, is one of the most joyous and uplifting experiences I’ve had in the theatre this year. Tonight’s performance of the opening number slayed so hard it reduced me to tears even just listening to it on the radio.

The three shows I really want to talk about though are the three which each received four awards, and tied as the most rewarded shows on the night: The Inheritance (Best Lighting Design, Best Actor, Best Director, Best New Play), Come From Away (Outstanding Achievement in Music, Best Choreography, Best Sound Design, Best New Musical), and Company (Best Supporting Actor in a Musical, Best Supporting Actress in a Musical, Best Musical Revival, Best Set Design).

I saw all three of these shows – The Inheritance twice (once at the Young Vic back in May and once at the Noel Coward in January), Come From Away twice in just over a week (just after it opened in March), and Company once (on Thursday night during its closing week) – and even though I didn’t love them all, I can see why they won. Let’s start with Company.

Company

Actually, to say that I didn’t love this show is a bit of understatement – I didn’t get it at all. I found it intensely frustrating and lacking in plot, even though I was aware that it’s so widely beloved, and I wish I could have seen in it what so many others did. But it truly wasn’t for me.

Having said that, I understood that it was a landmark production of an iconic musical. Watching it, it was impossible to imagine it ever being performed with the original gender configuration: I can imagine that it must have been interminable.

I also appreciated the artistry of it. The lighting design was beautiful, the book immaculately crafted, and Sondheim’s music has been stuck in my head ever since. The set design and staging were also fascinating and reminded me why it’s so much fun to see be a regular theatre goer, because it allows you to see threads in people’s work – this one had subtle hints of Bunny Christie’s design for Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, and Marianne Elliott’s staging reminded me so much of Angels in America, with the way pieces of set seemed to disappear into a void at the back of the stage.

As for the performances, Jonathan Bailey absolutely stole the show as Jamie, and his Olivier win was one of the most effortlessly justifiable of the night. It was a physical, wordy, complicated number that he delivered with impeccable panache. Easily one of the best individual performances of the year, and I wish the show had featured him and his character more.

Although I didn’t get the appeal of this show, it was a valuable lesson for me in theatre as a craft, and in classic musicals. I’m glad I saw it and I’m glad it won the awards it did.

The Inheritance

This show – particularly its Part One – was one of those shows that speaks to the heart. Brutal in its imagery and interval placement, I found myself sobbing into my hands as the house lights came up at the end of three out of its six acts.

The image that will always live with me is the one at the end of the second act. As the name suggests, this is a play about inheritance and legacy – the inheritance of collective memory and knowledge, as well as a physical inheritance – and at the end of act two we see both literally go up in flames. The AIDs crisis laid waste to an entire generation of the queer community – it saw the loss of thousands of people who would have been our role models, writers, activists, friends, lovers, and mentors – and in the play, the main character is left a house that is a touch point with that generation, but before he finds out that he’s been given the immense gift of this inheritance, the deeds to the house are burned. Seeing the flames catch on those papers and reduce them to ash, robbing this young, gay man of yet another opportunity to meet with the lost generation, is one of the most heart wrenching expressions of loss that I’ve ever witnessed in the theatre.

I am grateful to this show and all who worked on it for bringing this dialogue between the queer community’s past and present to the stage. Although I yearn for a wider range of queer stories to be told on stage, nothing can be taken away from the power and beauty of this show. I am glad it was told to the world, and I hope it has further life in the future.

Come From Away

I first saw this show at the end of miserable week, on a Friday night, which also happened to be International Women’s Day. When I first heard of it I wasn’t very interested to see it, but when it came to the West End and I read more about it I grew curious. The ticket I bought that day on a whim came at the perfect time.

It’s 100 minutes in length and I can honestly say that I cried for the entire duration of the show that night. The sheer beauty of the music, the warmth of the story, the way it faces grief and loss with honesty and hope, all make it a truly special show.

One of the things I love about it (and the reason why I’m particularly pleased that it won the specific awards it did), is the way the music is used throughout the show. The music has a real narrative function. Every song is essential to the plot and drives it forward. Music and dialogue are seamlessly interwoven, to the extent that I couldn’t imagine how it would possibly work as a soundtrack.

It also feels important to mention the real life stories that have inspired the show. Nick and Diane’s story is one of my favourites, and I’m also truly grateful to have been introduced to Beverley Bass by the show. I mentioned that I first saw the show on International Women’s Day, and there could not have been a more perfect moment to hear the story of the woman who led the first all-female crew in the history of commercial jet aviation. There’s a moment during the song which focuses on Beverley’s story in which the women of the company stand and seem to be applauding her, and applauding themselves, and it’s one of those moments that gives you real hope as a woman – hope that the world will be better, that we can lift ourselves and each other up, and that we can achieve our dreams and fearlessly raise our voices.

People have said that this show gets one of the fastest standing ovations in the West End at the moment, and having seen it twice I can attest to this. Right now we need a reminder that there is kindness and goodness in the world, and that communities can come together to welcome strangers, no matter where they’ve come from, how they look, or what language they speak. This show is that, and it could not be more timely.

I truly think that tonight’s awards did justice to the breadth, diversity, and brilliance of this year’s London theatre scene. The fact that the big winners were a gender-switched show putting a woman at the heart of her own narrative, an epic story about queer existence today, and a musical about a community opening their doors and hearts in the face of tragedy, suggests that there is some justice in the world.

It’s been a great year, and here’s to the next. My money’s already on a Dear Evan Hansen sweep, but time will tell!

#My writing #Olivier awards #Come From Away #Company #The Inheritance #Theatre reviews #Not Cursed Child!#Surprisingly I do see other shows #lots of them...#it's a problem #but it made watching this year's Oliviers kind of fun!

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beaubcxton · 6 years ago

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“You’re so brew-tiful, Snow.”

For @recgulus on her birthday. I love you & I hope you enjoy this 5.8kish mess. What is canon, right? Also, I made Simon say Crowley because I really like the word even if it doesnt have any context here. This is rushed but like, enjoy.

It happens on a Monday. Of course, it does Nothing good ever happened on a Monday. Simon should have known to keep his head low on a day like this. Children sobbing was the welcome tune that announced the beginning of a new day, fingers stumbled on the steering wheel; a sign that the night before might have been exhilarating but now was just, tiring. Mondays were like the thorns in a bed of roses.

Back in the day when his dad was still decent, his father warned him to take care of himself. ‘Nothing like a Monday, mate. Can’t smoke or drink, can ya?’ And Simon had smiled toothily at his father, shrugging off the advice like it was dust that had found its way onto his coat.

He really really shouldn’t have done that.

Reason 1: His mom died two years ago in June on a Monday.

Reason 2: Agatha broke up with him last week. Surprise, surprise! It was on a Monday!

Reason 3: He just spilled hot coffee on the fittest guy in the world on a fucking Monday aka today.

---

“Simon!!”

Feet wheeling automatically at the familiar voice, I extend my arms right in time for Penelope Bunce to fling herself against my chest. Her giggles send a row of vibrations in me that shudder each bone. I-weirdly- find myself inhaling her hair as if to assure myself she’s there. (She smells of watermelon and ink. Typical of her to do something study related even on vacation ) I shift uncomfortably in the hug, her phone digging in my arm.

Pen is my best friend. Been since we were tiny tots. She'd been gone for nearly a month. Being the only person who included me in social ongoings also known as parties where you could get wasted, Penny was the Jake to my Boyle. When conversations had the opportunity to become awkward and stifling, Pen was pretty cool to divert my attention. We'd video called at least five times a week this month.

She pulls back, grins still wide on both of our faces and surveys her surroundings.

It’s earlier than I would like it to be; it’s just barely afternoon and I’ve been awake since dawn. It’s a tiny cafe, huddled alone with its vivid hues of orange and brown amongst the grey concrete building. Good for business. Unlike the outdoors, the interior of the cafe’s temperature induced warmth and placidity. I usually notice several kids hunched and pored over their studying material. Textbooks that hid their anxious face from view are stacked on the tables, their coffees long since drained but I rarely pay attention to it, opting for my ‘want a free refill, mate?’ chime. Employed at the beginning of fall, I was given only a few days to suit the shop with the atmosphere outside. Pumpkins decorate the cashier desk and they’ve been carved to look like famous people. My favorite one is the one that looks like Miley Cyrus. Strings of lights, the ones you get in IKEA fall from the ceiling casting a mellow glow in the gloominess of the upcoming winter.

“I can’t believe you work here now.” She huffs, still having a staring competition with one of the pumpkins. Taylor Swift must have won because my best friend snaps her gaze towards me as if waiting for an explanation. I know where she's going with this and I have no intention whatsoever to get into it. It'll just end with her storming out or worse so I just hum in agreement or whatever she expects from me.

Surprisingly between tucks of hair and another staring completion with Shawn Mendes, she tells me, “It’ll be good for you. I hope, at least. You’ve been a mopey mess since Agatha, now don’t give me that look Si. You know it’s true. I told you not to get involved with her but-“

I will my jaw and heart to loosen. “Missed you Pen.”

Her teasing and motherly grin could light the whole shop up. “Micah and I missed you too.”

My smile wavers. Right. Her boyfriend in America. Really decent bloke, always up for the occasional drag though he’s a right wanker when he’s reading a book. We get along swimmingly. And it's not like I like like Penny but whenever she talks about Micah, it reminds me of my recent break up with Agatha. Someone who I thought I'd spend my life with. For fuck's sake, we're twenty-three. I'd be Pinocchio if I told you that I didn't go ring shopping.

“Simon?” I run a hand through my hair and grimace when it comes out sticky. I haven't talked about Agatha since she broke up with me.

“I’m alright,” I say and conclude the statement by sending her a shaky smile. Penny looks wary but doesn’t do something weird like putting her hand on my shoulder or lending me a hug. I’m grateful for it but also resentful.

The door tinkles and-

“Simon Snow?”

My first thought is ‘Fuck me.’ My second is ‘I’m going to act like a dunce. Crowley, this boy knows my name.’ And my third is nothing.

I go blank. Nada and nil, both poetic wonders dance from my tongue. Penny pinches my arm. I can see her smirking and hiding a giggle but I don’t reproach her for it. Not when Adonis is standing right in front of me, his muscular form a barrier against the cool wind he’s brought with the open door. With slanted eyebrows and thin lips, he looks like someone you’d see in portraits at castles, despite the smirk on his face.

“Simon Snow?” He calls out again and I watch mesmerized as his mouth opens and pronounces my name. I flush. It’s probably in my best intentions if I don’t drool over a customer and with hardly any cool, I raise my arm up like a moron and squeak out a “Here?” like we’re kids and back to roll call.

Super Fit bloke- as I recently decided to call him in my head- shifts his searching glance and focuses on me and I almost reel back in surprise. He’s wearing a hat that shadows his features but even blind, I’d recognize him anywhere. His eyes are grey and unlike anything that I’ve seen. It’s like a storm in there and I’m captivated by observing them. It’s so different watching them up close, up person in daylight than stalking his Instagram profiles at 2am. And his hair is carefully messed up in an extravagant manner, dark and shiny locks peeking out lazily.

I'm speechless. This is the best day of my life.

“Bastillon Pitch?”

My mouth blurts the words out but I suspect even if I had time, I’d say those same words. That same name. Do you know who is standing in my-not mine but you get the point- coffee shop right now? Award winning and three-time Oscar nominee, Bastillon Pitch. He has nine million and seven thousand followers on Instagram (not that I would know) and he’s been called to Ellen which he’s refused, by the way. For all my understanding (and obsessive knowledge) about him, I could never understand why he would do that. I mean, who refuses Ellen? That’s like refusing chocolate. Only a few months older than me, he’s the youngest actor to star in so many bloody iconic movies.

The man grimaces and looks around to see if anyone’s heard my exclamation but that would be ridiculous because the only people in the room are him, Pen, me and two ladies with floral blouses and wrinkled fingers. The latter are deep in conversation and are stealing glances at us occasionally to check whether we’re eavesdropping. They’re loud so that’s taken care of. In the seventeen minutes that they’ve been there, I’ve learned that they are lesbians whose gay son eloped with a girl. I'd like to say that's the strangest thing I've heard but it doesn't even rank top ten in today's conversations.

“I go by Baz and shut up, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Rathe dumb, aren’t you? You’re the barista here?” His voice is smooth and dark like wine drunk on a summer night. The tone, however, implies he thinks I’m incompetent. It’s like he’s trying to convey, ‘You? You’re the barista here? Seriously?’ I feel like I’ve been slapped. Hurt and embarrassment course through me simultaneously.

It’s not every day that one gets to meet their fucking celebrity crush but well (I like boys too, you see) I imagine I’m handling it rather well, never mind that my face is probably beet red and I’m this close to stammering. Don’t give me that look. ‘Baz’ Pitch is literally an icon. He’s acted in several movies and he’s so good at it that I get goosebumps watching him. And Crowley, I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t the fittest person I’d seen in my life. 10/10 ass and a perfect asshole. I don’t think I can handle his fucking beautiful lilt this early in the morning what with Agatha presence still ghosting my mind. Bastillon Pitch or not.

“Yes.” I bite. “Why?”

“Just expected a bit more, I suppose. Most baristas have a uniform” He breaks off suddenly and stretches hard like, his shirt literally goes up and I have a view of strained muscles. Crowley. I’m staring at it so hard I’m not aware he’s speaking till he coughs. Shit. I want to wipe that smirk off.

“You seem like the type of guy to like Brooklyn Nine-Nine but you don’t even wear a uniform so I can’t consider you a true fan. Seriously Snow, who wears that to work?” His mouth is opening and closing but all I hear from him is the sign ‘I’m a prick.’

“Sorry, we can’t look like posh assholes all the time.”

He rolls his eyes again at my attempted jab. “You-“

“You know,-“ I interrupt loudly, “-I wonder if you keep rolling your eyes because you’re trying to find a brain back there.”

The asshole grins and I’m disarmed by the beauty of it for a moment. His teeth do not contrast well with his tanned appearance. They look almost yellow in the dim light of the coffee shop but they’re sharp. I oddly wonder if he’s played a vampire. But then I know he’s not. I’ve watched all of his movies. Twice. Okay, thrice. (And maybe a few more times after that)

“Touche” As he walks towards me, I can swallow my disgust. He’s so damned tall. Seriously what was the point of these people with their ridiculous heights of six foot when I, a mere mortal was just five foot one? (I never said I wasn't dramatic.) “I didn’t expect it from you. Soft, aren’t you Snow?”

Pen, the traitor is nicely backing away.

“Soft?” I splutter manically even though I know being soft is wonderful but Bastillion Pitch cannot know in any universe that Simon Snow is soft. It would not bode well on his impression of me.

He grins wolfishly. “Shame.”

Shame? Shame? What does that even mean?

His sudden bark of laughter shakes the bloody walls. “Flustered, mate?”

Oh. Oh. Pen has long since retreated, thankfully because I wouldn’t feel like quitting if she was here. It’s just like the universe to make the (EX) love of my life an arse who has no consideration for my feelings. I admonish myself for sounding like a sap.

“I only get flustered in front of cute. Hot, hot people.”

Predator smirk combined with no reply sets me on edge. “What do you want?”

“Good grades but I already have them. Do you, Snow?”

I try not to let the bitterness seep into my tone. Of course, acting isn’t enough for the Great Bastillon Pitch. He’d have to study and rank too, possibly. I couldn’t understand why he’d need to work with all that money.

“Stop calling me that.”

Damn, how does he raise just one eyebrow?

“It’s a name, Snow. Surely, even you know what their purpose it?”

What? I’m so confused right now. I rack my brains and ask myself if I’ve done anything to warrant such behavior but I come out short. Did I bump into him on the street and not apologize? Kick his dog? No to both because I’d remember being a shithead. I don’t want to be on bad blood with Bastillon Pitch, however, so I try to rein my irritation in. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot.

“What are you majoring in?”

He stares at me. Blinks. Stares. “I want to become a lawyer.” He draws out the words like he thinks I’m a moron.

Who knew it’d be hard to have a conversation with Bastillon Pitch? Not me.

“I think you playing a vile asshole has rubbed on your in real life personality.” This time, I’m teasing.

His laughter is a sound I’ve not heard before. It’s warm and cold, both at once like he’s rarely had the opportunity to full on laugh, uncontrolled and unpracticed and he’s not sure how to excel in the skill. I think that irks him, not being able to control it because he stops quickly though I won't forget how, for a moment, his eyes crinkled shut and how his fingers curled in. I shiver.

It’s like someone has clicked a button on his personality. His face becomes a mask of nonchalance. “Coffee.” He orders. “Tall and with milk.”

Disappointment finds its way to me. Despite the ongoing insults, it was exciting to spar with someone. I’m just usually bored here. I grind the dusty little machine on (it’s certainly not Starbucks material) and waits for the hum that it’s working before I assemble the milk and sugar, distinctly aware that eyes are trailing me.

“You’d be a good lawyer,” I say suddenly as I pour a teaspoon of milk in, anxious to continue the conversation. His eyes widen. “Make people all mad and that. That be two pounds.”

His lips twitch as he silently hands over the money. I draw up the bill and as I’m handing over the coffee, full to the brim in a paper cup. His nails brush the desk as he leans forward, breath warm against my cheek as he murmurs, “You’ve got a nice arse, Snow.”

And because, I’m Simon Snow, because I’m a walking disaster, because Bastillon Pitch is an asshole who deserves it, I splutter and my hands shake for one infinite second before the cup goes down, falling and the piping beverages jumps onto Baz’s leather clothes.

Times stops in that standstill of a second. Nothing moves. In that second, I’m not an idiot but the spell is broken and I realize what an A class clown I am.

“You’ve got a little coffee there.” I murmur, mortified as Bastillon Bloody Pitch stares at himself for several seconds before his charged animal eyes hook me in place.

“What the fuck, Snow?”

I splutter maniacally, flinging drool here and there. Sending a plea to the ground to swallow me up, I stumble in my haste to get some towels. I start to dab one on his chest and flush when I realize I’m essentially touching his breasts. I am touching Bastillon Pitch, Oh my Gosh.

Do not think about that, Simon Snow. Do not think about that.

Baz pushes me off and tugs the towel and wipes himself. He’s snarling and his eyes have darkened but I (shockingly) notice pink coloring his cheeks.

“Rubbing it won’t help, Bastillon. You’re supposed to dab-”

“I reckon you’d know a lot about this. This your ninth time dropping coffee on a customer? And I go by Baz, how many fucking times-”

I raise my hands and back away. He seems almost embarrassed but I do not want to be in the way of an angry ‘Baz’ Penny, please be there. “I’m sorry. Coffee’s on the house.”

“THERE IS NO COFFEE, TO BEGIN WITH!”

Well, he has a point there. I concede defeat and murmur apologies. Baz drops the towel on the floor like a wanker and storms out, the door slamming shut behind him and the texture of frost whipping across my face for a millisecond as I process the previous events.

The old ladies are looking at me and grinning. I bury my hands in my face and groan.

I could not catch a break.

---

“Snow!”

Fuck. What is he doing here? I shut my eyes for a second, try to collect any calm in this universe and curse softly.

“SNOW!”

I move out from the kitchen and press my apron, hastily. The warm aroma of coffee ground hits me as I step out the door and face to Bastillon.

“Hey.”

He sneers. “Where's the apron?”

My eyebrows pinch together and I look down at myself, just to double check. I had worn it.

“What are you on about, mate? It's right here.” I say and gesture to my clothes.

Surprisingly, Baz flushes and growls out, “Where's my apron, you moron?”

I know he's trying to be a really tough boy and crap but whenever he growls, it sounds really cute, almost like he's imitating a baby bear. I have the sudden urge to pinch his cheeks and coo over him.

“Snow!”

He even has the personality of a bear.

“Sorry. Lost in thought. What did you say?”

Baz shutting his eyes will forever be one of the most dramatic and exaggerated actions in the world. It's like one of those slow things. First, he twists his fingers and they curl around the table. Then, his lips purse. All the while his eyes are slowly shutting. Maybe, he took classes for that.

“I said,” He manages to say. “Where the fuck is my apron?”

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair. “Look mate, I can make you a cup of perfectly fine coffee, provided you don't startle me like-”

“Urgh!” Baz implores to some deity. “I’m working here, you dumbass.”

I freeze.

There is no way I heard correctly.

“What?”

“Fucking Crowley.” He murmurs, throwing his look downwards.

Just when you think life’s picking up, when you finally move on from the incidents of yesterday and go a few hours without this complete and utter arse, Bastillon Pitch drops in and says, “Hey! I‘m going to work with you. ”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Crowley, I'm going to need to tell my aunt about you.”

Somewhere inside me, my heart stumbles. “What?”

“My aunt?” Baz smirks. “The owner?”

Are you serious? Someone up there had it out for me. Embarrassment rings through me.

Pinching my lip, I have a revelation about what I must do. Alrighty then. I give him my apron and resign. Guns and Roses blare in the background as I do this mighty and heroic deed. I leap off the platform, pluck my sunglasses off and kiss the mole on Bastillon face because no matter how much of an asshole he is, I will forever be attracted to him before I pull away and slam the door on my way out.

Well, I imagine all of this. Could you tell? I really cannot believe my luck. Now, his aunt who I assumed was a perfectly good woman is going to fire me and I’ll live on the streets for all eternity. Staring at how happy Bastillon looks with the bombshell he's just dropped doesn't help me in the slightest. Moving to get him an apron, I throw it towards him and cross my arms as a thought strikes me.

“When did you start?”

Chuckling low and warm, Baz pulls the apron on top of himself and smiles. “And here I thought you were dull. Yesterday.”

Xxxxxxxxx

We’ve settled into a routine. Baz and I. It’s really just one rule though we’ve found it hard to obey. Do not interfere with the other.

Sometimes, I’m making coffee when Baz leg brushes against mine and while both of us turn pink, I choose not to say anything while he goes into a rage about how I’m an imbecile who hogs all the space and how ‘you hog all the space with your fucking stupidity, Snow!’

So I’d retaliate. The other day, for example, he’d asked me for a cuppa. He was on break and by obligation, I had to make him one so I set out to make a cup of tea when this brilliant idea struck me. I boiled the gatorade up and put it in a cup with sugar on its side. Waiting patiently as he raised his eyebrows, sipped the tea and then, spat it out, I couldn’t help but feel vicious satisfaction.

We play a bunch of games too. Not the friendly ones that children in playgrounds do but the ones that people with no lives and who thrive on annoying their rival do.

One of them is the growling game; every time, we roast each other and someone doesn’t retort but growls, loses. The other is The Quick Game; we have a tally on who serves the most customers. So far, Baz is winning by a marginal. (a lot) My favorite is the Embarrassment Game; when we’re talking to customers, we tell them ridiculous things about the other. Baz, of course, started it first. He had told one of my favorite customers that I’m a rather dull kid and his aunt had hired me in pity. I had told the next customer he was gay. He, surprisingly, didn’t have anything to say to that and we haven’t played the game since.

---

“You’d think that a barista would know how to make a cup of coffee.” Baz is saying to his aunt, Fiona who is coincidentally my boss. Did I mention that before? We’re at her office, not because she’s called me though that was what I was led to believe, cue angry glare at the boy on my left. “But Snow dropped the whole fucking mug, sorry, freaking mug on me on my first day and I had to go home.” Baz added, opting for a pout.

Crowley, he looks brilliant. Bugger. We’re playing the Embarrassment Game again and I am not ready, for once.

I try to display some professional mannerism. Might as well look good before I was fired. Still, I feel melancholic as I rack my brains about my future prospects. What would I work as now? Who’d want to hire me? The guy who can’t hold a cup of coffee? I wouldn’t hire me. I can’t help but feel resentment towards Baz.

“Simon.” Fiona reproaches, leaning forward, hands crinkling some papers as she does so. I liked Ms. Pitch. Despite her hubris and ridiculous attire; fluffy clothes that suited a ball venue and not a coffee shop, she was sweet when you (really) got to know her. Never in my wildest dreams would I imagine her to be connected to Baz Pitch. It was typical of my luck for my rival’s aunt to be my boss. “I am very disappointed in you.”

My eyes shut, ashamed. You’d think I’d be used to it, right? The shouts that I’m not good enough but-

“You should have poured the whole bloody machine on his head. He certainly deserves it!”

Baz’s eyes widen proportionally while my mouth drops open.

“What?” We both articulate.

Ms. Pitch goes on as if she hasn’t heard out exclamations. “I thought I couldn’t love you anymore. I was wrong.” Her eyes fixate on me and I stare back, stupefied.

“Go on, then! You have a coffee shop to run.”

As I’m leaving, she says, “And Simon? Expect a raise soon.”

The door slams shut before I can express my stupefied gratitude. I think of going in, again but then I hear Baz’s groans and protests and my feet express a desire to get away, as quickly as possible.

Xxxxx

“Hey, Baz?” I begin, crumpling the cupcake wrapper in a ball and stuff the cake in my mouth. We’re on lunch break now. Sitting right in front of me is Baz though his focus is on his phone and not me. It’s a real pity. Is my sarcasm obvious? I wonder if he’s hungry. Looks like he’s starving. That would explain his pallid color. I know he’d prefer sitting away from me but it’s either here, in the kitchen or outside and attending to people. Every introvert’s worst nightmare. “Baz?”

He rolls his eyes at his phone and cranes his neck upwards. “What, Snow?”

I tsk. He’s like a fucking crab, always ready to bite my head off even though I’m perfectly pleasant. I suspect that even if the Queen of England were to knock, he’d slam the door in her face, grumbling about something.

“Do you ever eat?”

Surprise flashes in his eyes before he scoffs. “No, Snow. I don’t. I’m a vampire and I drink blood.”

I grin toothily at him. They’re probably yellow and red, resultants of the red velvet cupcake and gummy bears I had for lunch.

“Always knew you were a soul-sucking monster.”

Baz turns back to his phone though I can see a hint of a smile at his lips.

---

The other day, word got out that the Bastillon Pitch works at a humble cafe so we’ve been swarmed by teenage girls. Baz, true to his credit, threw them a stellar personality before he said rather dismissively, “We’re closing early! Technical issues.”

I had thrown him a look. “Baz. We worked at a cafe.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

I rolled my eyes and sent his fans a smile but they ignored me. “Can you sign this, Baz?” “Baz! Will you marry me?”

The requests were strange but Bas took them in stride. Soon, we had most of them out but camera lights still flashed in out direction. When we decided to close for the day, Baz and I lazed about in the room. Him working on study material and I worked on getting my Tumblr theme.

“I don't understand what those girls see in you.”

Baz barely spares me a glance as his fingers click the keyboard.

“I’m an actor, Snow.”

“And a real-life vampire.”

Baz grins. Hides it. “What are you studying?”

“I don't go to college anymore.”

“Oh?” Baz seems surprised. “If you wanted money, you could ask-”

I don't know if he's jesting or being genuinely kind but it stings me, regardless. “I don't want to go.”

“Oh.”

---

“Sorry! I’m latte!” The pun comes naturally as I burst in the coffee shop, almost an hour late. The bell tinkles as I run towards the cashier.

Baz is leaning against the counter, no customers in sight. It’s a slow day. But apparently, I’ve made a horrendous mistake as Baz folds his arms over his chest and stares me down, the textbook picture of condescension.

“Thank Crowley” I breathe as I pull over my apron. Normally, I’m not late. I’m really not but today, right as I was about to leave the flat, Agatha comes barging in, tears cascading down her pretty face. Her mascara was smudged so I’d known she had been crying for hours.

“What’s wrong?” I had set her down on the sofa and went off to make some tea. That’s all I’ve been doing lately. Agatha started going on about how she missed me and agreed that maybe, we should have given us another shot.

“Let’s get back together, Si, alright?” Agatha had said, staring at me with those bluebell eyes I had grown so accustomed and fond of seeing.

And then, I had a revelation. I did not want us anymore. It wasn’t so much that I was afraid of being hurt again but something else. I had moved on. It felt weird because I was so used to being in love with her, I forgot the feeling of not loving her. And, this feeling was so great I wanted to giggle but I couldn’t do that, not with Agatha flooding my apartment with her tears so I had steered her out and said very softly, mind you that ‘No, I’m sorry, Aggy but no.”

Now, here I was, still panting and victim to ‘Bastillon Pitch Full On Glare’, something I did not want to ever see. He’d looks like he’s swallowed dung. So fucking angry.

“I met up with Agatha.” I say, shortly. That does not dissuade him in the slightest. If I had to say, he looked even angrier. I had rambled about my ex to him in the past weeks. I wish I hadn’t.

“Oh,” He says cooly. “And, I suppose the lovely pair has gotten together again?”

“I didn’t want to.” I pacify him and he cools down, slightly.

“Oh.” He sounds like Christmas has come early. Wanker.

“I can’t expresso your attitude-”

Baz groans. “Stop with the fucking puns, Snow. You’ve been on them since yesterday.”

“And you’re still not used to it? Oh, bugger.” I mock a sympathetic sigh.

And then out of the blue, he says something that sends my heart which is already pounding a million miles per hour, race again because he’s looking at me like that and the twat leaves the room after he says it, like he knows I can’t chase him after the bombshell he’s just dropped.

He stares me right in the eye and says, disinterestedly, “I’m gay.”

Xxx

Ever since he’s told me he’s gay, I feel like something’s changed between us. Do I tell him I’m gay or bisexual too? It’s gotten awkward. I tried to talk to him and transfer the message that I’m not homophobic to him but he gets all clammy if I’ve walked two steps up to him and begin with ‘Baz?’

Normally, I don’t let this bother me. We get on each other’s nerves. Totally normal if I kept persisting. But he looks genuinely uncomfortable and he probably regrets telling me even though I don’t know why he’s told me in the first place, to begin with. I steer out of his way the rest of the day.

As the day progresses, he gets even more on edge, nearly snapping at an old lady who couldn’t see the menu. I try to manage the orders and let him work near the machines. But after, he kicks the machine that we all know doesn’t work, I give up trying to soothe him.

When two people have filed a complaint, I almost facepalm. My killer headache helps in making my day worse. With that and Baz’s mood swings, there’s nothing more I want but to go back home. But of course, that’s when the day gets worse.

It’s nearly night when Fiona rings us up. She rarely comes to the shop but does her paperwork at home. Efficient and tactical.

Baz picks up the phone and I can hear Fiona’s distant chattering but I focus more on Baz’s darkening face. Suddenly, he slams the phone down and tells me, “Close down.”

“It’s not 8pm, yet,” I state, dumbly.

“Fast, you imbecile.”

“But-”

That is, of course, when the lights flicker off and we’re buried in darkness. Baz’s shadow stands out prominently, in front of me and his groan followed by a curse, splits the air.

“Blackout.” Baz explains when I continue staring as he drops on the ground. I rub my eyes and lean against the counter. This was perfect. Fiona had installed those automatic doors today in the afternoon, the ones that functioned on electricity so we were locked in. Two rivals trapped in a room together. Maybe, once I went insane, psychologists could study me and they’d be shocked with the observations.

And maybe, they'd be surprised at how much I still like Bastillon Pitch.

---

Charcoal darkness has winnowed in and coated us with anxiety and tension. There were no curtains so we’d stumbled behind the counter, afraid and weary.

“Sleep in the kitchen?” I say as we’re munching leftovers.

“You can take the kitchen.” He's talking to me. “I’ll sleep here.”

Scoffing, I nudge him with my foot which apparently sets him off. “Don't be ridiculous, Baz. We’re thin enough to fit in the kitchen.”

It'll be cramped and we’ll be arm to arm but I wager we’ll manage.

Baz tears through the bread with his teeth. “Fine.” He bites off.

My foot starts to sleep so I shake it.

“Would you stop doing that?” Baz murmurs after a few minutes. He sounds agitated as he rubs his head. We’re just sitting in darkness now, doing nothing but analyze each other.

“What?”

“Shaking your fucking foot, Snow. I'm trying to sleep.”

My jaw clenched. He was so infuriating sometimes. “You are not sleeping here.”

“Oh?” Baz scoffs, curling into the wall. “Since when do you care? You’re always running after-”

I let out an angry cry. And I don't think, I do. I want him to shut up. Surging forward, I notice how Baz’s monologue starts to delve. He has his eyes shut, I faintly register before I tilt my head and kiss him.

Bas stills and sags beneath my palms like I’m draining all of the oxygen in him. And Crowley, he’s so warm. I care, I try to tell him. You're the sun and I'm crashing into you. You mean so much to me.

I'm leaning over and when he doesn't respond, I pull away, disappointed and embarrassed. He's breathing heavily and I can see his grey beautiful eyes stare at me, wide with shock. I'm stumbling to get away when I fall into his lap. Pushing away, I’m horrified and about to fucking shoot myself.

All I can think about is how the door is locked and I'm trapped with a guy who's probably going to sue me because I assaulted him and oh my god, what am I-

“Snow.” Baz murmurs.

“Here,” I repeat like so long ago.

“Snow, what the fuck?” Baz is already departing his wall. At least, he’s engaged in being frustrated.

“Look, just don't tell the table-”

Baz tsks. “You’re such a moron, Snow.”

I splutter but then he kisses me.

And my mind goes blissfully blank.

---

We sleep in the kitchen that night, my arm draped across his body and his fingers twitching for me.

There’ll be time to talk about what I am, what we are later. How it’ll affect the press and other matters.

For now, it doesn't matter. We don't care. It's just us, two boys who’ve found solace and whose heart aches for the other, suspended in the dark, in time.

It's Baz and me.

#ahsdaosdhfao im even more sorry for this lmao #mine #lotte #carry on #simon snow #snowbaz #snowbaz fanfiction #bastillon pitch #baz #simon x baz

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qqueenofhades · 7 years ago

Note

Clearly, I’m a masochist. But you know what I want...

Lucy Preston does not take the decision to travel to July 21, 2014, São Paulo, Brazil, lightly. This is going to be the first use of the own-timeline technology, Rufus keeps emphasizing the fact that it’s in beta, and if it goes wrong, there is no Lifeboat for the Lifeboat. She won’t even be in any remotely conscious state to know that it did. She would be pulverized atoms outside all constraints of space and time and existence, maybe aware enough to know it and to suffer, but nothing more. It’s basically hell, Rufus says. But worse.

And yet, because of this, because of the other kind of hell they’re already living in, Lucy has to take the chance.

What she actually has to do is not that difficult. Rufus has programmed in the course, and she basically just has to get into the Lifeboat and hit a few buttons – she doesn’t need to steer, it already knows where to go. The trick is pushing it when you know you could be worse-than-dead in negative ten seconds (literally, it might happen in the past, time travel is the worst) if anything goes wrong. But Lucy trusts Rufus’ calculations, and they don’t have a choice. She has written down everything in the journal that she thinks she can possibly risk, and she feels pangs of guilt at how much she’s left out. There’s no way this can be all of what Flynn read, right? It’s like trying to study for an all-important exam with half the textbook badly translated into English by a robot that doesn’t understand quite how language works. The fate of the entire world is riding on this, and –

(She doesn’t tell him that David Rittenhouse is one man, and furthermore, her great-times several grandfather. She doesn’t tell him about Emma’s true allegiances. She doesn’t tell him about her mother, or about Amy.)

(She doesn’t tell him that it’s pretty much this or nothing, that Rittenhouse has essentially won and the world is ever more unrecognizable, that they live underground and sometimes remember a new history every day.)

(She doesn’t tell him that he was shot during that last battle against Emma and company, two days after Hiroshima in 1945, throwing himself into their guns long enough for Wyatt and Rufus to stop Rittenhouse from using several more nukes, and that the last thing he said to her as he died in her arms, as she held him desperately and had to be torn away from his body to run, was, I love.)

(He didn’t have time to finish it.)

The trip itself goes –

Well isn’t exactly the word for it, not when she walks into the dim tiki bar and sees Flynn hunched over and heartbroken and on his third drink, grieving Lorena and Iris and startled out of his mind to see this attractive stranger walk in with a book and a miraculous promise that he can have revenge. But she made it, she didn’t Splinch herself or anything worse, and it’s him, it’s Flynn, he’s red-eyed and drunk and haggard, but he’s real and alive and she barely restrains herself from touching him, from grabbing his face and kissing him. It takes a bit, but she convinces him to trust her, to listen to her, and after that –

She supposes she always knew, in a way, that this was going to happen. He is a drowning man desperate for an anchor, there’s a connection between them that he won’t understand for a few more years, and she misses him so desolately that while she was willing to leave without it happening, she can’t regret for a moment that it does. They have sex twice that night, as he is clawing and clinging to her and she does the same to him. He is never going to know how unimaginably, heart-rendingly difficult it is for her to walk away the next morning, after she’s looked and looked at his face and reminds herself that one way or another, she’ll see it again. The younger version of her is going to meet him in a few more years. Things will happen. Some part of her will still have more time.

(You’d think that in this line of work, you could theoretically have all of it you wanted. And yet, as all of them have discovered, that is the greatest tragedy.)

Lucy goes back to her time the next morning. But as it turns out, she does not go entirely alone.

Being pregnant is rough enough in the usual course of things. Being pregnant after a trip to the better part of a decade ago, to visit your now-dead lover and give him a journal containing the key to saving the world from the Darkest Timeline it’s now ended up in, when you don’t know if Time Travel, Take a Shot! will permit anything to change at all, or shift, or erase, is –

Sucks pretty much wins the understatement of the century award. This, or any century. Lucy didn’t know it was going to happen and it wasn’t planned, but she cannot remotely bring herself to get rid of this last vestige of Flynn. She gives birth in an out-of-the-way hospital under a fake name with Denise holding her hand, while Wyatt, Rufus, and Jiya stand guard at all the exits and Connor idles in the getaway car. They check out six hours later and go back underground. Their war against Rittenhouse is different, localized, guerrilla, and Lucy went on missions until her sixth month, but it’s more difficult to do active fieldwork now. She takes on different responsibilities. Of course she doesn’t stop.

(The baby is a girl, and Lucy names her Amy Maria Preston-Flynn. She couldn’t stand to call her just Amy Preston alone, and maybe later, if there is a later, if there is a future, she will explain to Amy how she was born years after her father died, and everything it has cost. But no child should have to bear that.)

And then. Things change.

The team has known that yes, Flynn got the journal, and yes, events have started to unfold, but happening not quite as Lucy wrote down. There’s another branch of reality, a version of themselves, and long and confusing story short, Rufus dies in Chinatown in 1888, which is a crippling blow. Without him, they won’t invent the new tech, they won’t get back to Flynn, they won’t have any of the limited and fading chance they do have, and after a lot of talking, it’s decided to risk Wyatt and Lucy traveling back again to the bunker. They have to bring the tech to these other selves that are almost them, that could still be them if timelines re-converge, and take the risk to save Rufus. They haven’t lived this loss, but they remember well enough what it’s like.

(And Flynn. Flynn is going to be there. He will not know that he has a two-year-old daughter, who has been raised by the whole team and whose eyes look just like his when she’s angry, and sometimes they make jokes about her shooting Lincoln too, because it’s easier to laugh rather than lie down in the dark, alone, and shake with the silent sobs.)

So Wyatt and Lucy go. Meet the very stunned younger versions of themselves, and she sees Flynn with his arm in a sling, standing there and staring at her like he can’t believe his eyes, and she is two seconds from telling him –

But still, she doesn’t. Talks to her younger self instead, this Lucy that is almost her, and warns her quietly about Hiroshima. That maybe she can stop Flynn from going, that it’s possible he survives, but in that case, it’s very complicated, not to mention dangerous. After all, if he isn’t there, if he doesn’t sacrifice himself in a literal heroic blaze of glory, maybe Rittenhouse sets off those nukes. Maybe that’s it, right there, curtains. And if he doesn’t die, maybe Lucy doesn’t travel back to São Paulo in an attempt to save him, and all this doesn’t happen, is rolled up out of existence altogether. It’s a horrible choice to put on this younger Lucy’s shoulders, especially when she remembers having lost Rufus because of the same kind of time travel paradox. She looks like she wants to throttle her older self, which future Lucy (well, she supposes she’s future Lucy, but this to her is past Lucy, so who gets dibs?) doesn’t blame her for. And yet –

“So what?” Lucy bursts out, at her older self’s back. “Sacrifice Flynn and save the world, or save Flynn and sacrifice the world? Am I – am I really going to have to do that? Am I going to care that – that much?”

It’s not anger, or disbelief that she could come to love Garcia Flynn enough to make it so terrible to give up his life for many. It sounds almost like terror, as if she knows she’s getting too far down that path and might almost back out if she could. “What is it with us? What didn’t he tell me? What are you two to each other? Are you even me?”

“I don’t know.” Lucy feels the weight of all the questions she has kept from Flynn, from this Lucy, from everyone, and wonders if she can ever be forgiven. “But you will care. That’s all I can say. And because of Amy– ”

Lucy Two stares at her, face white. “My sister? I get her back?”

There’s a very long pause. Lucy One doesn’t have any idea how to respond. She feels some helpless impulse to tell her about something, since she has no idea how their timelines are going to tangle again, if at all. But she can’t tell Flynn, and one of them deserves to know. Maybe this is the tipping point. Maybe it’s not. She is so tired of being the one asked to judge. She never asked to be God. She never asked to hold the scales of life and death, time and space – and yet, she does. She is not quite human, she thinks. No longer mortal. There is no way to prepare yourself for that, but still.

“No,” Lucy says quietly, looking into her younger self’s eyes. “Your daughter.”

After their future selves leave, after they rescue Rufus, after it seems like a miracle and a fresh start and everyone else is excited, Lucy has a timer in her head that is counting down to when the Mothership is going to jump to August 8, 1945. That’s what her future self said. Two days after Hiroshima, one before Nagasaki. That’s where Flynn dies. That is where, according to how things have already gone, he has to die, in order to save the world. But that course of action leads to Rittenhouse winning anyway, doesn’t it? Nukes or no nukes? So if he doesn’t go, things change, they don’t end up in the future that her older self prophesied. There’s no way to tell if it’s for better or for much, much worse. That’s the risk you take. They’ve spent so long trying to change the past, or not change it, but can they change the future? At least history gives you a rough guide, a cheat code. The unmanifest, the un-happened, is entirely without space or form. Darkness moving over the face of the deep. It is Genesis.

You’d think the future would be the easiest to change, if it hasn’t happened. But time is a funny thing, and somewhere, it has already gone by, and Lucy doesn’t know. Doesn’t know. Doesn’t know.

Flynn can sense her disquiet. Of course he can. They’re ever more rarely apart, day or night, and Lucy is breaking down with the stress of keeping it from him. At last, she finally tells him. Whenever the Mothership jumps to 1945, they have to decide if he goes or stays. If he goes, he dies, and Rittenhouse could win anyway. If he stays, he will probably survive, but it also might not matter if they set off huge nuclear explosions and God knows whatever else. He could be living in a fallout shelter when they return, or he could have never been born, his ancestors eradicated before they ever got around to him. It could be so much worse. (Or better, but that seems naive to the point of suicide.)

“She told you,” Flynn says at last. It’s not hard to guess where else Lucy might have come by the information. “Didn’t she?”

Lucy hesitates, then nods.

“She never told me.” It’s unclear if Flynn feels betrayed by this or not, but thinking back, certain things might make more sense. “Did she say anything else? About what has happened after I met – well, you?”

Lucy almost can’t bear to tell him. She can’t be sure that her future self’s daughter is also Flynn’s daughter. But she knows in an unshakable way that it is for damn sure not anyone else’s, and it makes the final, terrible piece of the puzzle fall into place. As carefully and neutrally as possible, she does.

Flynn doesn’t say anything for the longest time. He’s clearly reeling. His face has momentarily lit up in wild, desperate joy – that somewhere in the universe, even if in a place he may never see, he has a daughter, a living daughter. She is probably three by now, or four. She is a little person, not a baby. She is out there, she is breathing on her own, she doesn’t exist now (Time Travel, Take a Shot!) but she will. The promise he’s been fighting for all along, even if for another daughter. She is there. She will be. And all he has to do for it is –

(Die.)

“I couldn’t make you lose another Amy,” he says at last, quietly. “I couldn’t do that to you, Lucy.”

This may be so. This may be true. But this Lucy has never met this Amy, and she very much has met Flynn. And between the two, right now, there’s only one loss that sounds, to her, as if it would be utterly unbearable.

The alarm sounds three weeks later.

August 8, 1945.

The blood drains out of the team’s faces as they stare at it. The word has gotten around, they know something terrible and fundamental happens on this mission, and that they aren’t going to get a takie-backsie to save Flynn the way they did with Rufus. Whatever goes down this time, it’s how it goes down, and even Wyatt has gotten fond enough of Flynn that he strenuously objects to the idea of sending him there knowing that he’s going to die. But Flynn argues that they’ve already changed quite a bit from the journal, how Future Lucy remembers it happening. The future is not set in stone. By now, he says, he trusts that Lucy will go back to São Paulo anyway, whether to save him or not. It will happen somehow, even if he has to die. And besides, if he does, it will save his daughter. He can’t regret that.

There’s some confused looks at that, as they think he must mean Iris, and neither Lucy nor Flynn can quite stand to explain otherwise. As Lucy looks at him, she realizes that his mind is made up. He is going on this mission, and he is not going to hear otherwise. Perhaps there is another path that leads him away from the guns, away from the death that still haunts her future self, that was the reason she’s tried to find some way, some fork in the path where he lives. It’s about stopping Rittenhouse too, of course. But it’s more.

(Does their daughter still exist if he survives this mission? It’s the biggest, most impossible paradox imaginable, and Lucy doesn’t know if it makes her a horrible person to almost be willing to make this gamble. If she goes to São Paulo anyway, but in different circumstances, does it still happen? Does it matter?)

She looks back at Flynn. Realizes that he’s entirely at peace with dying, if it means that somewhere, his daughter is going to live. Any daughter, any time. If he’s walking away for good – he always said he would with Lorena and Iris, after all. In a way, this is no different, even though he has never met her and very well never might. This is a Flynn who knows what is worth dying for.

His eyes meet hers, and he turns toward the Lifeboat. A wry smile crosses his lips, as if he’s almost going to miss the old bucket of bolts, knows he very well might not be coming back. Then he takes a deep breath, and manages a grin.

“Come on, Lucy,” he says. “It’s time to go.”

#lucy x flynn #garcy #garcy ff #protip #do not listen to the interstellar soundtrack while reading this #as i was while writing it #unless idk #you want to go for it?#anyway i apologize in advance #extasiswings #ask

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imagination-of-a-melted-bitch · 7 years ago

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An the award goes to..( Oh Sehun)

Admin: Kat

Words: 2104

Pairing: Sehun × Reader

Warning: none~

Sehun was already feeling a sort of giddiness that day. Waking up sure early, completely refreshed and with a smile on his face, he knew that something was about to happen today, something big.

Maybe EXO would win all the awards they were nominated for. That's what he said to himself as he stretched his arms about his head, his delectable back muscles flexing as he slowly walked towards the bathroom. He looked in the mirror, a small smile already making its way onto his face. He laughed at his own silliness and stripped, walking into the shower cubicle and drenching himself in the hot water that flowed, completely relaxing him.

He has just placed his forehead in the cold tiled wall and closed his eyes slightly when there was a loud bang on the bathroom door.

"Hey! Get your ass out here we need to go get ready for the Award show later today" Suho's voice echoed in the empty bathroom, making it seem louder than it was.

Sehun chuckled, 'as usual' he thought to himself before reaching for the shower gel

"Give me give five minutes"

"And the best Girl Group award goes to.."

Jinyoung announced on his mic. Sehun gulped. He was frozen in time. His eyes as wide as saucers. His sentence to Baehkyun went unspoken as Sehun physically felt the bow tie around his neck tighten, his words went right back down his throat as he stared at the screen of the nominees.

Rest assured, EXO was not nominated for best girl group and Sehun's sudden anxiety was not about the award. Instead, in the split second that he had witnessed the Nominee screen, his breath was stolen.

"(Your group!)!!" Jinyoung announced loudly as the entire audience was sent into a frenzy. You stood up, tears welling up in your eyes as you embraced all your other group members as you made way onto the stage. Your team currently had a street, very hip concept, so all of you were rocking some sweet street wear, you being the one wearing the leather skirt and oversized hoodie on top, with knee high socks and some higheeled boots.

Your leader began to give her acceptance speech and you decided that this was a good time to look around and maybe wave at some fan cams.

You looked around at the first row, seeing all your sunbaes at the well decorated table and you were just glancing at EXO when you saw him

"Seunie.." you whispered softly, your eyes met his and suddenly, the thundering crown was no longer there. As the other members sat down, Sehun stood up still looking directly at you, in front of all the cameras but you couldn't care less. You thought that the moment both of you pledged your lives to ones in the music industry that you would never see yourself again. You had heard of EXO and even almost been to one concert yourself, but in the fear of rumours you stayed away, and socialized only within your company.

You could feel the tear dripping down your Apple cheek as your member slightly squeezed your waist to let you know it was time to walk down, they were shocked and a little concerned as to what had happened.

Down in the front row, Sehun also had a tear running down his face, EXO visibly scared for his well being asking him a million questions. He walked to the front of the table, to greet you when you had finally snapped out of your trance. Cameras were around, nothing was safe.

"Backstage Seunie" you whispered as you walked right past him.

Sehun quickly nodded and walked back to his seat. His head lulled back as he recalled your intoxicating scent as you walked past him, your glittering eyes and they met his and your lucious locks as they flew as you turned your back to him.

The rest of the evening each time EXO won an award, Sehun would always scan the audience for you, his face twisting into a smile, and a slight red tinge colouring his face.

You hadn't felt this kind of desperation for the show to end in years. You loved Jinyoung to death, and just wished with all your heart that for fuck's sake he would just close the show, and finish his fucking speech soon.

As soon as the stage blacked out you headed straight for the door to backstage, the entrance for the male and female artists being in two different sides, you quickly turned to look at Sehun to find him already looking at you. Your group called out to you, and EXO called out to Sehun, quickly following pursuit as both of you ran towards the respective doors.

Your dashed down the staurcase, running as fast as you could in your heels, you heart thumping, your legs shaking, your breath quickening as you neared the small rehearsal place that bridged both the male and female artists' rooms for a small practice session. Currently empty, besides the staff, your group running behind you, desperately calling out to you.

"DO YOU HAVE TO PEE OR SOMETHING?!" Your bestfriend yelled.

"Stop running after me I'm BUSY!" You yelled back.

"Y/N! Y/N!" That familiar baritone voice had you halting in your footsteps. You turned, your hair flipping dramatically as your eyes finally meeting with Sehun's. Behind you, your group stood now, panting and behind Him filed EXO. All other artists were busy greeting each other. But seeing him, a grown man now, you just couldn't stop the tears from flowing.

You ran to him again, wrapping your legs around his taut torso, and wrapping your hands around his neck and torso, and he held your waist and pulled your body close to his. Both of you a panting, crying mess in the middle of the rehearsal stage.

"I've missed you so muc-much" he stuttered between hard sobs as he dropped onto his knees still holding you in his hands. You were full blowing crying now.

"You fucking idiot, you fucking idiot" you couldn't hold it in anymore. You pulled away tears rolling down your face.

His eyes met yours, there was chaos behind and ahead of you. Confusion, confusion and more confusion.

But as you leaned down to capture his lips in a kiss that was meant to be shared years ago, you felt the burst of passion in your chest. His hands gripped your waist so tight you were sure he was gonna bruise them. His soft, velvety lips molding with yours. This wasn't a soft kiss, oh no! It had teeth clashing, neck grabbing and enough love to last a lifetime, all in one simple meeting of two lips.

You pulled away when you heard other groups beginning to filter in. You stood up, immediately being pulled away by your squealing group members and you turned to see EXO teasing Sehun. Your eyes met once again and you mouthed 'dorm' to him. He nodded. Knowing exactly what you meant.

You twiddled your thumbs in anticipation. An empty dorm room, all your members out celebrating the new win. The door bell rang, you looked down at your outfit as you made way, shuffling quickly to the door. Shorts and a black top. Was it too casual? Was it too revealing?

You opened the door after taking a long breath, to reveal a Sehun in sweats, a mask and a black top.

You didn't have any more time to feel anymore nervous as he scooped you onto his body, pressing his lips to yours. He walked into the dorm, kicking it close with his foot quickly carrying you to the nearest room.

"Is this your bed?" He said pulling away, panting.

" No, move to the next one." You said, grasping at the hem of his shirt, pulling it off before he attached his lips back onto yours, his tongue exploring your mouth as it played with you, making you moan into his mouth.

He leaned back, looking at your bed and slightly chuckling,

"Apeach pillows? Really?" He laughed pulling off the pillows and grasping your t-shirt too.

"Don't judge me, just fuck me" You exclaimed as you felt his evident thick boner against your thigh.

"Mhm" he agreed, pulling your shorts and now soaked panties down your legs and threw them away to the side. He slowly got onto his knees at the edge of the bed, hooking his arms under your thigh as he aligned his face with your soaked heat.

It had literally been years since you had seen Sehun, a small boy at that time with big dreams. His eyes would always sparkle with enthusiasm as he danced to the music and you would watch him with the same amount of enthusiasm. A young couple, with big dreams and big obstructions in front of them. Now he had grown into a fine man, his body a complete opposite to what it had been.

His eyes met yours and you saw that familiar glint in this. He maintained this ferocious eye contact as he licked on straight strip across your heat as gently nibbled on your nub. You felt the ecstacy course through your very veins as his tongue began its assault on the most sensitive part of your body.

Soon he had your back arching off the bed, your hands gripping the sheets as a strong orgasm approached. He sensed this and moved away, your almost screamed at this and whined loudly.

"W-why I was so close" you said coming down from your almost high steadily.

"I want to cum with you baby" he said. He pulled his sweats down alongside his boxers and stroked his thick member. He moved his thumb along the slit, collecting his precum and stroking along his cock for some lubrication, but you were already so wet that you sincerely didn't care.

"Ju-just fuck me. Please I missed you so much , I need you so much Sehun" you cried pulling his wife shoulders towards you. He stroked his cock up and down your slit a few time, making you hiss slightly as the pleasure returned to your body.

Suddenly he began sinking himself, inch by inch in this painfully slow pace into your pussy that you wanted to cry out and ask him to just fuck you already. But the very feeling of him in you, just his presence that no man before could be compared to or no man in the future would live you to, had you gripping onto his shoulders for support.

When he was deep in you, he began rocking himself back and forth, a growl leaving his mouth as he felt your warmth.

"I've missed you so much. I thought I lost your forever" his broken voice whispered against your neck.

"I've missed your eyes, how they sparkle" he said pulling up from your neck and looking directly at your eyes.

"I've missed your small hands, that fit perfectly with mine"

His muscled arm left your waist to travel the length of your arm to interlock your fingers with his. His thrusts were still very precise and hitting deep in you, making you moan and arch your back. As you did so he placed his lips on the valley of your breasts, leaving you completely breathless.

"Most of all," he said pulling you up, hitting deep in you as you cleanched around him, nearing the most mind blowing orgasm you had ever experienced, his cock twitching in you both of you blinded by your shared ecstasy. "I missed you as a whole. Y/N, I love you. Always have always will" he finished the sentence with a grunt. As he felt you cuming, his dick twitched and shit his hot load into you, his thrusts got slow and sloppy and both of you came down slowly from your highs in a tangle of limbs and lips. His lips hovered over yours, eyes burning holes in your skin as he looked at you.

Your hair was fanned out behind you, your chest panting, a trail of very faint hickeys forming on your neck. You gazed at him, a slight sheen of sweat on his beautiful body, a small bite mark that you had left somewhere between your sex crazed, frenzied actions.

He pulled out of you, pulling his boxers before cleaning you up with a towel and dressing you once again. He just layed on your bed, holding you close, inhaling that intoxicating scent of yours,

"I'm never letting you go again"

#admin kat #oh sehun #sehun fanfics #exo #oh sehun fanfiction #sehun smut #sehun fluff #oh sehun smut

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tateanaau-blog · 7 years ago

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Symbiotic relationship| Dolan Twins

Summary: Boys are sad about not winning a TCA Warnings: Cursing, mention of anxiety.. kinda? But that’s it

Disbelief. That is the only word that could explain how you’ve felt after seeing that Jake Paul won Choice Youtuber and not E and G. How could that happen? You witnessed their fandom vote day and night not stopping for one single moment, trying to land that award for the boys.

Twins worked their asses off this year, put all they had into the content they created and a guy who puts holes in his walls and bullies people who don’t have English as their native language over their accents ended up winning. Talk about a total let down. You could just imagine how disappointed and sad would the boys be.

Not an hour later, you hear the front doors being unlocked and soon after, whispers fill out the hallway. Your eyes start stinging as one of them turns the light on since you’ve been exposed only to TV light for the past three hours. What hurt more than that light going straight to your tired eyes was seeing Ethan’s and Gray’s faces. It was worse than you thought it would be.

With everything that was happening during the past few months, you were extremely worried how would this affect them both. You get up from the couch and hurry your way over to Gray giving him a big hug. He just gives you a light smile and a hug back before leaving to his room. Just as you turn around, you felt Ethan’s arms wrap tightly around you. Just seconds after, his soft sobs filled the room.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I am so fucking sorry for this,”

“Not your fault,” he mumbles, still not letting go.

“I know, but I also know how much hard work, time and heart you two put into those videos this year and you so fucking deserved that award. It breaks my heart to see you like this,” you say, pulling him towards the couch.

“I just.. I feel like we’ve let the fans down. Everything we do is to make them happy and they worked so hard to get us this award and it didn’t happen, it just sucks so fucking hard, to feel like this. Like a failure,” he barely finished his thought before starting to sob again. Wow did it suck to see him like this.

“Ethan baby, your fans are like the best, most understanding, loving human beings I have ever encountered in my life and the love they have for you and Gray will not change due to some award that was probably picked by producers anyways. I know this goes deeper than just that award, I know you’re still trying to figure out the whole self worth situation but I’m begging you, don’t take this to heart so much. I know it sucks baby, but it will literally not mean shit to your fans. Tomorrow, when you wake up, they will love you and want you to be healthy and happy just as much as they wanted it this morning. Surfboards mean shit to them... and also to me,” you couldn’t/didn’t want to stop talking cause Ethan was listening and not crying which you wanted, of course. He leaves a quick kiss on your forehead and than takes a deep breath.

“I love you. I love you so much. Please just stay here with your mess of a boyfriend until he falls asleep, yeah?” Ethan finally gave you a little smile, making himself more comfortable on your lap.

“Of course E,” You smile right back at him, slowly stroking his hair, hoping it would calm him down some more. Half an hour later, when you were sure that Ethan was asleep, you carefully moved his head to a pillow and found your way over to Grayson’s room. You lightly knocked and called his name.

“Hey Gray, you up?”

“Yeah, come in,” You hear his tired, sad voice. Walking over to his bed, you sit at it’s edge waiting for him to get up. He is soon in a sitting position, looking at you kind of empty. His eyes were red and so was his nose. He was for sure crying earlier.

“Are you okay?” You ask not really knowing why, cause obviously he fucking wasn’t.

“I just kinda feel like failure, like a let down or whatever. We just really wanted this for the fans. They’ve done so much for us throughout the years, especially in these last few months and I can see how disappointed they are. I never want to disappoint people who enabled us to live this life, be in this house, sleep in this damn bed. It’s all because of them and we wanted this for them,”

“I totally understand that Gray, but I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told to E. They are most likely disappointed but not with you but just with the fact that you didn’t win. It’s a symbiotic relationship, what you guys have. You want them happy, they want you happy. They don’t want to let you down which they probably think they have since you didn’t win, which results in the madness that is happening. But it’s just because they love you and want the best for you, like you do for them. I’m making no sense, but I think you understand..”

“Yeah, I get you even with those stupid biology references. I’m super glad that both E and I have you in our lives even tho you literally eat all my food, all the freaking time. Thank you,” Grayson says, motioning for you to give him another hug, which you do.

“Get some sleep now,” You tell him, walking out of his room. “Good night.”

“Night.”

After getting a blanket from Ethan’s room, you go back to the living room couch and cuddle up to your sleeping boyfriend hoping that they would wake up a bit happier, more understanding of the situation because seeing them like this sucked major balls and you didn’t want such a thing to screw with their minds even more.

Literally haven’t written in months and it probably sucks cause I haven’t even proof read it, but I really liked the idea (idea credit goes to @wonderfuldolans whos blog is the shit if you’re into the twins, btw) and wanted to give it a shot. Baiii now.

#dolan twins #ethan dolan #grayson dolan #the dolan twins #dolan twins imagine #ethan dolan imagine #e&g

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ynibytina · 5 years ago

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Meet Jessie Hotchkiss!!!

Of all the people I've gotten to interview over the last year or so, I would have to say Jessie Hotchkiss was one of the sweetest people I've gotten to know. I met Jessie on Twitter after entering the 2013 Acuvue Contest (see my entry here!). It turns out this 19-year-old, Brooklyn Park, Minnesota native happens to have a lot in common with me. Not only do we share a love for music, but I also found out that she also has relatives that live near to where I live. Someday I hope to meet Jessie in person and jam out with her. In case you were wondering, Jessie, happens to be the first out of seven people to be chosen as winners of the 2013 Acuvue Contest. To learn more about Jessie, her music, and her adventures with Acuvue, please follow her on her Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Ask.FM pages, or Youtube channel. P.S. While on YouTube, don't forget to watch Jessie's winning audition video for the Acuvue Contest or Jessie's Mentorship Episode with Demi Lovato!!!

Favorite Musicians: Demi Lovato, Ed Sheeran, Skillet.

Favorite Movies: Mean Girls, Sleepover, Freaky Friday, Pitch Perfect.

Favorite Book: Hunger Games or Divergent Series.

Favorite Color: Blue.

Favorite Holiday: Halloween.

Mac or PC: Mac.

Twitter or Facebook: Twitter.

Blackberry or iPhone: iPhone.

Chocolate or Vanilla: Vanilla.

Winter or Summer: Summer.

Pancakes or Waffles: Pancakes.

Math or Science: Math.

Past, Present, or Future: Future.

Did you grow up in a musical family? What age/instrument did you learn first?

Absolutely not! My sister was the first one to start learning an instrument in 6th grade. Once I got into 6th grade, I started playing the trumpet. So I was about 11 years old.

When you found out that you won the Acuvue contest, how did you/your family and friends react?

I actually got a call around 7 am on a Saturday and ignored it because it said “unknown," so I ignored it and went back to bed. They called again about an hour after that and left a voice mail. But I woke up around 9 forgetting about the voice mail and checked my email first, and that’s where I saw (1) in my inbox and looked. I had to stare at it for a good 30 seconds before I realized that it wasn’t spam! I literally started sobbing and ran into my mom’s room and told her that I won! She didn’t know what contest I was talking about because I enter a ton! So I explained and she couldn’t believe it! I then realized that it was Acuvue trying to call me and I listened to the voicemail. They told me to respond to the email to make sure I’m aware that I’m a winner. My friends didn’t really understand the concept of the contest. They were excited but they didn’t realize how big of a deal it was until the mentorship video came out. It still feels like it didn’t happen, but I’m glad it did!

What was it like working with Demi Lovato? Was she the mentor that you originally hoped for? What's the best advice that she gave you?

It was pretty surreal. It's like when you only see someone online and on TV, it’s almost like you don’t believe they exist (as weird as that sounds). But she is super sweet and genuine and a goofball. She had this aura that she gave off that immediately made me feel comfortable. I was nervous for about the first minute of meeting her, but after that, I was totally fine. She honestly was the reason I entered. I told myself I’d be content with whoever was chosen for me as long as I overcame my fears by the end of the day, but I didn’t actually think I was going to be set up with her. It’s funny because I originally wasn’t going to enter just cause it’s such a huge contest and I thought, “What are even the chances?” but I’m glad I at least tried because you have just as much of a chance as getting chosen as anyone else does as long as you enter. As for advice, I feel really dumb but I honestly can’t remember a whole lot…it was an overwhelming day overall. But something I learned that day is to just own it up on stage. You already know exactly what you’re supposed to do, so why be nervous about it?

Why do you think your video was chosen? For people who want to try out next year, what advice would you give them while making their videos?

I’m honestly still trying to figure that out. The Acuvue crew has told me so many times that it really stood out and I was obviously chosen for a reason. When I watched it back when I was about to submit the video, I didn’t think it was all that great. But when I compared it to the others, something did seem a little different about mine, and I’m not just saying that I truly believe that. For anyone who wants to try out next year, you really want to try to make it stand out. What I did is I watched the submissions for the 5 previous winners from 2012 and asked myself, “What is it about the videos that made them stand out?” I literally watched them about 5 times each. What I found out is they didn’t get off the topic of what they are trying to accomplish. I actually watched every single submission for the 2013 contest and what a lot of people did was talk about their pasts and how maybe they’ve been bullied or depressed (etc.) and they don’t focus on what their dream is. Acuvue wants to know about it and HOW bad you want it, they don’t want your life story and then only one sentence about what you want to do. They want to know how you got started with it and how much you want to progress in either your passion or how to get over the fears that are preventing you from taking your passion further. So I’d suggest that you leave out your life story and focus on your dream; THAT is what they want to know about.

Has life changed for you much since winning the Acuvue contest? What does a current day in your life look like?

As for just day by day, not really. Although since the mentorship I got to attend the 2013 Teen Choice Awards and got to walk the blue carpet (which was a guaranteed prize along with the mentorship). But I also got to do a separate event with my mentor that no one else got to do. So that definitely wasn’t expected. Being able to go to LA three times this year has been amazing; I just wish I could stay there, haha! I actually recently saw Fifth Harmony in concert and got recognized by about 15 people. They just congratulated me and/or told me how jealous they are, which is something I’ve been hearing a lot lately. A typical day for me consists of waking up and going to classes (it differs every day since I’m in college so it’s not the same schedule every day) and depending on what day it is, I go to work, come home and do homework. Then usually play guitar or keyboard till about midnight and may make a cover once a week or so. It’s not too eventful. Most of my friends go to schools far away so I don’t really have anyone to hang with here.

What was it like going to the Teen Choice Awards? Did you run into a lot of celebrities?

I did! It was honestly one of the craziest/surreal things ever (even more so than the mentorship). Our day started around 6-7 am (depending on when we got called to the room to get makeup done) and it didn’t end till about midnight when we got back to our hotel and chilled on the rooftop. The day started with us all one by one getting makeup done. After, we went into the room next door to get our wardrobes (which we picked out the day prior out of a crazy amount of choices)! Then we had to go downstairs to do a photoshoot! I ended up being the last one so it was a big rush trying to run all over the hotel and whatnot. But the photoshoot was very interesting considering I’m so awkward on camera. But they played Demi in the background which made it better, haha! Once that was taken care of, all of us winners hopped on a little bus to go to the TCA site and film a commercial with Shay Mitchell. No one was there yet so we got to see everything while it was clear. Shay got dropped off and I think we all got a little star-struck (except Olivia since she was her mentor). We took several takes of it and then immediately had to go back to the hotel because there was a party on the hotel roof with the mentors, out families and the CEO’s (along with their families) of Acuvue. Unfortunately, only Dwight, Joe and Shay could attend. But it was incredible meeting them all! After that was done, all of us (except Anthony and Olivia) got back on the minibus and drove to the TCA site again. We were dropped off where all the celebrities were and it was the craziest site ever; I have never seen so many paparazzi in my life. We stood by the gate where everyone was dropped and saw about every single celeb that attended. I met Ed Sheeran and other artist and it was insane how close everyone was to us. Even One Direction casually walked inches away to get around us. But we went in, watched the show, got out and went to an after-party consisting of free arcade games, bowling, and endless chicken strips and pizza! One of the best days by far.

In 10 years you will be...

Hopefully, I’ll be in a successful band, whether it’s a new band, already existing one, or be a backup musician for a solo artist.

Besides music, what do you like to do in your spare time?

I love drawing! I used to do it high school a lot, but since I’ve been in college, I don’t have as much free time as I used to. I’m also really into making bracelets. I can make them out of string and rubber bands so if you ever want one, Hit me up!

What's your favorite quote and why?

“To accomplish great things, we must not only act but also dream; not only plan but also believe.” I really like this quote because I think so many people just act upon something, fail, and then give up. You’re going to be told “no” a lot in order to get where you want to be. I have, yet that doesn’t stop me. Even though I had this amazing experience happen to me, there’s a little voice in my head that likes to get at me and make me think that I’m not going to end up getting far with music, but I try to shove it aside. Don’t give in to the voices. Listen to your heart, not your head.

Do you write your own music? If so are we going to hear it soon on your YouTube channel? If not, what's your favorite cover that you've done and why?

I’ve been trying to write some original stuff lately. I actually do have an original song on my channel, but it’s a very rough version and has been touched up a bit over time since I posted it. I may end up deleting in the future and reposting the version I have now. I’m also working on another one now, but I can’t think of how to make it flow. I have lyrics, just not the music. So I’m working on that currently. I think my favorite cover would actually have to be “Not Gonna Die” by Skillet. I don’t sing, but I’m playing electric guitar and that’s originally what I started out on. I haven’t played one for a few years so it was fun going back to it and playing some rock!

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