#my roommates are planning to move across country and I simply cannot do that

[iamsweden]

Okay so. I have not fixed the major stressors going on in my life, but I feel more confident in facing what's probably going to go down next summer. I applied for a second, part time job and went looking at cheaper apartments in the next town over, and so long as everything works out how I need it to, I should be set.

ANYWAYS, AS THE GREAT JUSTIN MCELROY ONCE SAID, "THE ANTIDOTE TO DESPAIR IS ACTION."

[scaredofchange]

My First Date with Mark Tuan - Mark Tuan x Reader

Pairing: Mark Tuan (GOT7) x Female!Reader                                                      

Summary: You’ve known Mark for quite some time, but never got to experience a real first date due to him working in another country. But, it’s all about to change as the love of your life asks you out for a beautiful romantic night.

(In my view, female!reader is a Caucasian woman from North America.)

Warnings: bit of swearing, otherwise it’s really just fluff

Wordcount: 3.6k

A/N: 1st person perspective; wrote this for my amazing best friend; hope you all enjoy it!

 ___________________________________________

           I was extremely nervous; my palms were sweating against my makeup brush, causing me to let out a dry chuckle. I was getting ready for an event I never thought would ever happen in my entire life: a date with Mark Tuan.

Yes, Mark fucking Tuan; the man of my dreams.

Mark and I had met through my best friend, Catherine, who was dating one of his best friends, Jinyoung. But, although it had clicked immediately between us, he had to go away for a few months due to work, so we never really got to our first date.

Therefore, it was a very good surprise when I received a call from him two days prior. It wasn’t an uncommon thing, we loved to talk for hours on the phone, but usually we would plan it in advance due to both our busy schedules. What was peculiar though was the way he initiated the conversation: his voice was low, unsure. When I asked if he was okay, he rushed to reassure me, but nothing had prepared me to the words that came out of his mouth seconds later: “I’m coming back for good in two days, wanna go out with me?”

My first reaction was to completely freeze: not a single word, and now that I think of it, breath, came out of my mouth. I was utterly baffled, sitting on my bed, still in my pyjamas, my hair greasy from the day before and Mark fucking Tuan was asking me on a date?

Of course, I blurted out a crazy ass yes and jumped to my feet like a schoolgirl. He had laughed from across the phone and said something in the lines of “I can’t wait to see you again”.

Two days later, I was sitting in front of my mirror in my bathroom, as my best friend, and roommate, was throwing a bunch of clothes on my bed in an angry fashion.

“You cannot, and I repeat cannot wear fucking jeans to a date with Mark, you hear me?” Catherine screamed at me from the other room.

I rolled my eyes at her comment.

“It’s just a date, I’m not meeting the Queen,” I let out grumpily while applying foundation on my face.

I heard a silence then saw her head pop up in the doorframe.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” she said with a raspy voice, “not the Queen? Of course! Much fucking better than that! The love of your life! Your one and only! Mark Tuan! Holy shit Y/N!” she kept shouting on and on as she disappeared from the frame and reappeared over and over again.

I laughed at her overreaction, but knew she was only being her old self. She eventually stopped babbling about and put some music on; as we were blasting some BTS, I finished my makeup and got back into my room.

It would’ve been horrifying to see my clothes scattered everywhere like that if it wasn’t that I couldn’t think about nothing else but Mark. Not that I wasn’t messy, but the way Catherine organized the whole thing like a psycho was borderline obsessive and scary.

“All right, so...” she started but my eyes focused on one of the outfits she had gotten out.

 “Jeans?” I squeaked with a smirk.

“Hey, hear me out: you’ll look super sexy in those dark ripped jeans and this top, okay? I have my reasons to think that your butt looks incredible in these...” my roommate devilishly smiled at me, her eyes filled with excitement.

I analyzed the outfit: dark ripped jeans, a silky burgundy top with sleeves and an amazing cleavage.

“So, get him with my boobs, right?” I kid while pointing the top with my chin.

“Well, if he’s anything like Jinyoung, he won’t really care, but hey, doesn’t hurt to try,” she stated, wiggling her eyebrows at me.

I snickered at her reply and proceeded to try on the outfit.

Like she had said, it was like the fabric had been made for me. It sculpted my curves perfectly and it almost immediately boosted my confidence.

My best friend kept talking and talking, throwing some jewelry at me, such as diverse chokers, but my thoughts were elsewhere. I silenced her out and focused my mind on what was about to happen in a few hours.

Mark had always been incredibly sweet to me; he was gentle and kind, he made me laugh throughout the worst days of the last few months and, and even though he wasn’t close to me, I felt like I could always rely on him.

I reminisced that one night when I was passed-out drunk in a Uber, coming back from a bar a friend from work had wanted to try out – not my usual thing – but I still went because both Cath and Mark had told me I would have fun: and I trusted them with my life, turns out they were right.

Tipsy from all the vodka cranberries I had drank, I remember dialing Mark’s number. For him, it was early afternoon, so when he answered he automatically inquired if something was wrong; since it wasn’t in my habits to call him this late (around 2 am).

“You okay?”

I chortled like a twelve-year-old girl prank calling her neighbours.

“Y/N? Are you all right? Should I call Cath?”

The worry in his voice stopped me dead. I tried to get back some composure and straightened my back.

“I-I’m...” I started, a hiccup interrupting me, “I’m fine.”

I could vividly see him roll his eyes in my head.

“Are you drunk?” he questioned; his tone a bit harsher than a few seconds before.

I nodded, but quickly realized the poor guy couldn’t see me.

“Yeah yeah,” I lazily mumbled, “I just missed you.”

“God, Y/N, I miss you too,” he admitted with a chuckle, “but you should definitely get some sleep now.”

“Can you stay with me until I...”

“Until you what? Y/N?”

“Until I’m home and I fall asleep?”

I had almost whispered the last sentence, but I heard him agree as clearly as day. Mark stayed on the line for the whole ride back to my apartment. Even when I got there and Catherine scooped me out of the Uber, he still talked to me and listened to my nonsense. The last thing I remember was crashing into my bed, mumbling things that must’ve sound like an alien dialect to Mark, but which sounded very familiar to Catherine, since it was in French ; we had taken classes together for years.

The next day, my best friend teased me for saying things such as “j’aimerais prendre un bain avec toi” and “ton odeur me manque” to Mark. I was absolutely shocked but incredibly happy that my drunk instincts had brought me back to my French classes; I didn’t know what I would’ve done if he had understood if even a word I had said.

Back to the D day, still thinking about these crazy moments, I was brought back to the moment when Catherine clapped her hands.

“All right, good to go!” she exclaimed with a wide smile.

“Is it time already?” I stuttered while trying to find my phone.

“Yep”

It was the only word she said as she handed me my iPhone, which I probably had forgotten somewhere.

“I’m nervous,” I admitted to my best friend.

“It’s normal Y/N, but you guys are meant to be and we both know it,” she tried to reassure me, “Plus...” she pointed my chest, “he won’t be able to resist you.”

We both openly laughed as I softly punched her arm and got up on my feet. We both walked to the kitchen, me on her tail.

“Did you brush your teeth?” she asked.

I nodded, and so on for the few other questions she threw at me; she was such a mom.

After waiting a good fifteen minutes, the clock hit 7 pm and a knock was finally heard on the door. I straightened my back, slid my cleavage down a bit and walked toward the entrance with confidence I did not have.

When I opened the door, I was awaited by the most beautiful view in the world: Mark was wearing a black jacket with a dark t-shirt under it, his black jeans were as ripped as mine and he wore some classic converse. His hair was back to a lighter brown and was falling on his forehead: the guy was breathtaking.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted me, a smile stretching on his luscious lips.

“Hey, Mark,” I replied in the same manner, my feet glued to the ground.

“You look amazing,” he complimented me without a second thought.

Before I could respond, he rapidly stopped me as he handed me a bouquet of flowers he had hidden behind his back: some sunflowers mixed with peach roses.

Blush crept on my cheeks and a strange and unusual feeling gripped my stomach; butterflies, aren’t they?

“Oh wow, you really didn’t have to,” I muttered, grabbing the beautiful gift.

“Of course I did,” he simply retorted with a smirk.

“Thank you”

He nodded and chortled at my shy expression.

“Lemme just take these...” I heard a murmur from behind me; Catherine extending her arm to grasp the bouquet.

Mark laughed seeing my best friend doing her best to help us move on to the first step of this date.

“Nice to see you, Cath” he said toward her.

She waved from afar and let out a “yeah, yeah, whatever...” with a hint of sarcasm.

“Shall we?” inquired Mark, his eyes glistering with an unknown glint.

“Yes, we shall.”

                                                            [***]

Mark had planned the whole evening out, but didn’t want to tell me a word about it. In his car, we were finally able to catch up without me being too flustered to talk. We spoke about his trip, how he had missed his friends, and how he was way too happy to be back home. He inquired about my work, my family and friends, just as if we hadn’t talked about it two days ago. But still, everything was perfect.

“Now, I know you’re not really into super fancy restaurants...” he let out, taking a right on an unfamiliar street.

“Yes...?”

He didn’t reply but simply pointed in front of him with his chin. We were on the other side of town. I had heard about this place, but had never visited: the International Food Market.

All around us were different small restaurants and booths; people of every colours, nationalities and ethnicities were walking around. The streets were decorated with warm lights and the smell was overbearing; I was already salivating as I hadn’t been able to eat all day.

Mark parked the car a bit further and we finally got out of the vehicle. I was astonished by my surroundings, so amazed that I didn’t notice Mark snapping a picture of me until he was fondly looking at his phone.

“Hey!”

“What?” he laughed, “You’re too cute, it’s not my fault.”

“Shut up...” I mumbled with a chortle.

“That’s definitely my new lockscreen...” he told himself, but I still heard him.

I tried to hide my smile with my hand, but he rapidly grabbed it instead, interlacing our fingers together.

“Don’t hide, you’re way too beautiful.”

“Am I dreaming or are you trying to flirt with me Mr. Tuan?” I kid, raising a playful eyebrow at him.

He hummed and placed his other hand on his chin, pensive.

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see...” he finally let out as he shrugged his shoulders.

I chuckled, but, soon enough was pulled into a slow pace toward the main street. All around me were people talking in different languages, exchanging with tourists and locals. I could smell the aromas of Mexico, as well as a quick draft from Italy, and a hint of Morocco. My eyes rapidly set on a pizza place and Mark was quick to notice it.

“You wanna try that one?” he asked.

“I don’t mind, I’m open to anything.”

He smirked.

“Okay, let’s get some pizza.”

I obeyed and followed him to the stand. He charmed his way through the waitress as quickly as one, two, three. She offered us a great deal of choices on the menu, attesting both our tastes. Eventually, Mark got a simple five cheese, pepperoni slice as I ordered pretty much the same thing, but with mushrooms and olives too.

It took around ten minutes to get served and during that time Mark pulled me in a warm side embrace and insisted on taking a few selfies.

“You’re so cheesy,” I blurted out between two pictures.

“Hey, don’t judge me because I want to remember every single moment of tonight.”

Perhaps it was the way he said those words, or maybe just their true meanings, but at that moment I could not stop staring at his profile. My eyes had softened and an enamored smirk had grown on my lips, but I couldn’t control any of it.

After a few seconds, he asked why I was looking at him that way: I wasn’t able to offer him a comprehensible reason, so I just mumbled my way out of it.

When we finally got our food, we found a nice spot next to the river down the street and sat down on a bench. The warm weather of July was just perfect for a night out.

We devoured our slices and both hummed in silence; it was exquisite. I was more than happy that we weren’t sitting in front of each other; then again, I had already seen him ate an entire plate of spaghetti in four bites as he had already seen me destroy a bag of Doritos.

“What’s next?” I inquired as I let my head fall on his shoulder a few minutes after we were done with our meal.

“I’m not sure I wanna move anymore...” he whispered more to himself than to me, but I couldn’t help but smile with all my teeth and burrow my face in the crook of his neck.

He lightly stroke the back of my head and for a second I swore I heard him take-in the scent of my shampoo, but I let it slide.

Eventually, after what seemed like an hour, we decided to move.

Mark held my hand the whole way to our next destination. It wasn’t that much of a surprise when I noticed an ice-cream parlour a few meters down the river. Mark went on and about, talking about why he had chosen this place, mostly because he knew I was a sucker for ice cream, but I was already half-running toward it to get ourselves a savoury dessert before he could even finish his sentence. My date opted for a classic, but huge, cookies and cream cone, as I jumped on the triple-chocolate one.

“No way you can eat all this food and still look like this,” I teased him as we were making our way back to the car.

“What is that suppose to mean?” he blurted out, half-confused half-shocked.

“Oh, come on!” I exclaimed back at him, outraged. “You know exactly what I mean!”

He faked not knowing what I was on about and shrugged his shoulders in an arrogant manner.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to tell me,” he pushed, his eyebrows wiggling up and down.

I burst out laughing and refused saying more, but Mark kept nudging and pushing for the following five minutes, driving me completely insane.

Even after finishing our cones, he just kept on going, nudging me like a child. I was about to explode, which was a pretty definite sign that his strategy was working.

“You’re hot, okay?! God! Stop it, please!” I blurted out, exhausted by his non-stop teasing.

He abruptly stopped; his mouth agape as he placed a hand on his heart.

“You think I’m hot?” he sarcastically let out in a high-pitch tone.

I tried my best not to laugh, but seeing him like that was the cherry on top. I snickered as he bore my gaze, completely into his role.

“Well you know, I’d return the compliment but...” he started, but I already knew that he was about to say something stupid, “but...but... my dear child, I’ve always seen you as my little sister you know? Like, totally platonic. Zero. Nada.”

“Oh, fuck you!” I insulted him, knowing he was messing with me by his fake offended behaviour and his sudden broken British accent.

As if we were synchronized, we both giggled until we couldn’t breathe; his arm grabbing my waist to pull me closer to him. When we finally came down from our insanity, we were standing alone by the edge of the river, surrounded by fairy lights, on a cozy Saturday night; name something more romantic, I bet you can’t.

His brown irises searched mine as if they detained the secrets of humanity; his eyelids softened while a light smirk stretched on his mouth. His skin was soft, his nose slightly crooked, and he had some light bridles on the corner of his eyes; in other words: everything about him was perfect.

“Now would be the time to ask you why you’re looking at me like that...” I said in a whisper, my body pulling closer to his like a magnet.

He didn’t reply just yet; No, instead, he analyzed my face as if he was trying to memorize every inch of it. His eyes laid on my cheeks, made their way to my chin, and came back to my eyes until they dropped to my lips.

I bit my lower one, not knowing why my body had that sudden urge, but just following it felt like it was exactly what I had to do.

I couldn’t help but squeeze closer to him, making myself as small as possible in his muscular arms. With his hands on my waist, he closed the tiny gap between us and for a moment, all I could think about what the warmth of his body rushing against mine through the thin fabric of his shirt. My own gaze was drifting from his face to his collarbones, then his chest, which was heaving up and down way too quickly.

I wondered if it was my heartbeat or his that was going crazy, or perhaps it was both.

“Y/N...” he said softly, his eyes still focused on my mouth.

I knew what he had in mind and the beautiful thing in all of that was: I had the same thought. I slightly tilted my head to the side as if I was inviting him to do it.

Without a word, but with a drop-dead gorgeous smirk, he slowly leaned forward.

His lips barely brushed mine at first, the sugary taste of our previously eaten ice cream still lingering on his mouth. But, within a few seconds, he came back with a rougher embrace. His biceps tightened around me as he slowly forced my mouth open. When our tongues collided, I felt a rush of heat climb up my whole body, stopping in my lower belly at first, but rapidly clawing its way to my heart.

My own arms locked around his neck, tip-toeing to squash my body on his, like we were just one. His kisses were soft, but filled with passion; they reminded me of a rainstorm on a sunny day, somewhat unexpected, but exactly what needed.

I carefully bit his bottom lip, inviting him to be a bit more brusque; not that I didn’t like the sweet pecks and loving strokes, but a part of me needed more, much more.

I felt his smile stretch over my mouth as he kissed me back, but with intensity he had never showed before; not only did his tongue made miracle to mine, but he placed one of his hands behind my neck, lightly pulling my hair.

Fervently, I returned the vehemence.

This was so good.

This was perfect.

Eventually, we both ran out of breath and had to slightly pull away from each other. I blushed under the ferocity in his irises and wondered if he had always felt like that about me.

I cleared my throat.

“What exactly had you planned for the rest of the night?” I questioned him in a whisper, my eyes full of anticipation.

“I forgot,” he kid, “I just wanna do this for the rest of my existence.”

I chuckled and shook my head.

“But...” he let out again, “I might have an idea.”

By the way he sounded, I knew he was testing the waters; there were no doubts that we both wanted to be with each other, but it was considerate of him to not be too blunt.

“And what’s that?” I replied, an apprehensive smirk on my lips.

“I mean, I still need to unpack, but... we could go back to my place. I have a pretty nice view over the city and-”

“Yes,” I abruptly interrupted him, “fuck yes.”

The smile he gave me was full of promises, feverish in the most sensual way and filled with desire.

It’s with a few more laughs, while holding each other’s hands, that we made our way back to his car. During the ride home, I texted my best friend, telling her I probably wouldn’t come back home that night, her only answer was a series of eggplants emojis, not that I could really blame her.

As I was snickered down on my phone and listened to the soft music on the radio, Mark’s hand slid over my thigh and squeezed it lightly. I looked back at him, a simpering smile plastered on my lips and, although I knew exactly that tonight would be perfect, I was more than happy to be able to share these incredible moments with a man like him. A man that saw me for who I was, a man that waited months to be with me, and more importantly, a man who made my heart flutter and spawned butterflies in my stomach.

The man of my dreams.

[cinnamaldeide]

#Hannigraham Meet-Cute Challenge

There’s just barely enough air to breath lately, summer has finally hit us in full force and all that is left for us... is fun. Fun at the seaside, fun with our psycho friends, fun with our precious, scruffy partners, and @funwithtyler​ fun reading lovely stories. Some of us have to combat this torrid heat to approach one very hot computer to type their very beautiful fanfictions and creations, but luckily for us we get to reap the benefits!

#29: Welcome to Widdershins Close by @zigzag-wanderer #110: Fancy meeting you by @mazephoenix #74: Going My Way by @fragile-teacup #55: A Face Like Yours by @hannibalsimago (now with fanart by @bayobayo) #13: Admirable Deceit by @cinnamaldeide​ #248: The night shift customer by @niceven-silace​ #3: You don’t see enough, you see too much by @fhimechan​ #1: Nigel’s Books by @murderfriesandgayguys {fanart} #186: Hello Gorgeous, Love Your Left Hook by @ishxallxgood #230: the aesthetics of pleasure by @exarite​ #116: Speed Dating by @ishxallxgood​ and @stratumgermanitivum #50: Evening Wedding by @emergencytrap {gifset}

You see our list of contributions is growing steadily and inexorably, but in this update I have the pleasure of including not only an incredible cooperation between our unstoppable @ishxallxgood and @stratumgermanitivum, but also an entirely new form of art, which is @emergencytrap’s nsfw gifset where the film Evening meets After the wedding.

As we had announced months ago, despite the name of our challenge, we’re allowing both Hannibal and HEU character, which means EveningWedding and Spacedogs, like in the case of our gifset and fanart, but also RoyalInstincts, DogsDogs, LucAdam, Kaisergram, whatever crosses your mind.

I’ll seize the opportunity and remind you of the #RareMeat fest, mostly on Twitter by now, which is exactly about these pairings. If you’re eager to write something involving Overgård and Galahad, for example, but you don’t know how or where they meet, only that a lot of snow is involved, consider selecting one of the prompts you see here (ง ื▿ ื)ว

#22: A is having a quiet night at home – that is, until A’s apartment neighbour begins blasting music. Frustration levels rising, A goes to knock on the neighbour’s door to ask them to keep it down… at the same time B, the resident on the other side, is about to. Need more detail? Click on the post.

#32: A checks into a cozy inn while on a cross-country road trip, beyond tired and ready to collapse. When A gets to the assigned room, he or she is in for a surprise! Someone else, B, is already in the room. Uh-oh.

#117: A is a professional assassin hired to take out a client’s cheating husband. But the client also spoke to B, a close friend, who has made it his/her’s own mission to also kill the husband. Unfortunately, both A and B have chosen the same night to do so, and it just so happens that B is a bit clumsy… and keeps getting in A’s way.

#143: A’s blind date just left, mumbling some sort of excuse about leaving the stove on. Confused and feeling rejected, A sits orders another beer at the bar, wondering where s/he went wrong. B, who had witnessed the situation, goes over and says sympathetically, “I think I know what went wrong… there’s something in your teeth.”

#162: A is interviewing potential roommates and is having very little luck. When it comes to B, A says, “I’m so sorry, I don’t think this is going to work. I can’t live with someone that I’d like to ask out.”

#166: A is at a coffee shop and sits down at a table, only to find a book on the chair. Intrigued, A starts flipping through it, and realizes it’s actually someone’s journal that had been left behind! And it’s fascinating. Unfortunately, B, the journal’s author, rushes back to retrieve it… and is horrified to see A reading it. But A, having gotten a feel for this person through his/her writing, asks if they want to go out sometime.

#176: A works at a pet store and is utterly surprised when B bursts through the door in a hurry and walks up to the cash without looking around. Out of breath, A says, “Please don’t ask why, but what do capybaras eat?”

#180: There has been a series of recent break-ins in A’s neighbourhood. B, a cop, knocks on A’s door to recommend safety measures and to ask if A has noticed anything peculiar — A hasn’t really seen anything, but invites the cop and his/her charming smile inside for coffee and a bit of false information so s/he might stay a while.

#207: A meets B and falls immediately for them, but B clearly doesn’t feel the same. After being rejected, A calls on Anteros, the avenger of unrequited love, to exact vengeance on B.

#210: A is a writer struggling to find inspiration for their next book. The publishers are breathing down their neck and the pressure is almost more than A can take. When A comes across an old Greek book in a thrift store, A brings it home and flips through the pages…. only to come across an old chant that was supposed to bring inspiration to those who read it out loud. A gives it a shot and… oh dear. Oh, oh dear. Somehow that summoned B, one of the Muses, to A’s living room.

#215: A is brought in to the police station for questioning about a crime they know nothing about and is put in an interrogation room… with B, who is another suspect in this particular case.

#231: A is hanging out with a friend but ends up stopping to look at some lingerie in a shop window. A is still chatting away, thinking that their friend has stopped with them also, and turns to where they assume their friend is to jokingly ask: “Wouldn’t I look sexy in that?” But it turns out that the friend had kept walking and it was B, a total stranger, who A had spoken to.

#232: A is in a public place and temporarily leaves their things where they are seated so that they can use the bathroom. When A returns, A notices B, the person sitting at the next table, putting A’s phone back on the table. A demands to know what they were doing with their phone, and B tells them that the phone was ringing non-stop and it was bothering everyone. Also… “Your friend is drunk and I think they want to sleep with you.”

#239: A is sitting in a cafe trying to casually read their book, but is distracted by B’s loud phone conversation at the table over. B tells a joke over the phone, which makes A crack up unexpectedly – B looks over at A, annoyed that they were eavesdropping, but also appreciative that at least someone liked their joke! B hangs up and offers to tell A another.

#240: A stops at the pub near their house to pick up some food on the way home (they make the best fries in the neighbourhood) when A receives a phone call – and some terrible news. A starts crying and B, the bartender, asks A what’s wrong. As A opens up to them, B gives A a drink on the house, and helps talk them through it.

#246: A was fatally wounded in an accident and suddenly finds themself looking down at their own lifeless body in confusion. B is a reaper and offers A guidance… but A doesn’t want to do the whole follow the light bullshit. A wants to flirt with the cute reaper.

#252: A is in the public library and notices a strange book that looks like it doesn’t belong in this section. A moves along to another genre, but it seems that this book is in every section… almost like it’s following A. How peculiar! When A finally picks it up to see what exactly it is, B appears out of thin air, and simply says, “I’ve been waiting fifty years for you.”

You may have noticed the lack of line breaks in this post. Well, it’s not the only thing I cannot do anymore on this platform, and it would be a big leap to say I’m more or less leaving Tumblr because I can’t do anymore what I previosly did, but that’s exactly what I’m doing. And I’m not alone, apparently.

This challenge, as well as the Accidental Sex initiative, could go on only thanks to those who so kindly kept the word spread for @fhimechan​ and myself. This time, I really thank @zigzag-wanderer​, @mistikfir​, @diemetzgermeisterin​, @cassraven​, @ishxallxgood​, @tiggymalvern​, @crisisoninfintefandoms​, @dyggyd​, @evakkorotta​, @thatthreetoedsloth​, @hannibalsimago​, @xchrysaliswhispersx, @bonesandscales​, @fragile-teacup​, @psychoheu​ and @cinelitchick​, you’ve all helped us keeping this well into Tumblrgeddon, but I’m sad to say this platform is not helping anymore. We’ll have to close this challenge before we had planned and hope the next one will be more fruitful.

In short, hereby starts your last month to choose one of those fantastic prompts and fill it, in whatever capacity you like: fanfiction, fanart, gifset, smoke signals, Hannigraham or RareMeat, whatever crosses your mind. We’re here to reap and to include in our collection, we appreciate your commitment and hope you won’t be mad at us for letting go of this challenge before due time.

[4626songs]

Everyone deserves a great love story. This one is mine.

So. Here’s the thing.

Is it even appropriate for a 38-year-old guy to obsess over a major studio teenage rom-com flick? People my age who saw it usually say they wish they had something like that when they were that age – like, 20 years ago? I probably should behave like a proper adult, too: just love the movie and wish I had it back then when I was seventeen.

The problem is that after watching the movie and reading the original book, I feel seventeen once again. In all the right and wrong ways.

The case in point: Love, Simon.

I mean, yes. I’m done keeping my story straight.

When it comes to the emotional intellect – i.e., empathy and ability to recognize others’ as well as my own emotions – I am a certified piece of dumb and voiceless deadwood. I mean, I even officially have it in my DNA. But it also did not help that I grew up with emotionally detached parents and had very few friends during childhood. I’ve been struggling with the lack of emotional intellect all my life.

But when I hit adolescence and started to feel something big, it was the worst. I could not recognize and understand what the fuck was going on. And definitely I could not talk about it with anyone. Not even because I was scared. Simply because I literally did not have the words to describe it.

Eventually, it was music, movies and, ahem, slash fanfics that helped me find those right words that explained me to me. That big thing was me being helplessly and hopelessly in love with my best friend.

Curiously, I did not have any struggles with my sexuality or identity after this revelation. I sort of accepted me being gay as a matter of fact and moved on.

Telling anyone – and especially my best friend – about this was a completely different matter. Obviously, I was scared. As Simon says in the movie, announcing who you are to the world is pretty terrifying. But it was not just this fear. Once again, I did not have the words to tell my story. My go to sources of emotional cognition – music, movies and books – were failing me. You know, there was not a lot of coming-out, coming-of-age films or songs or books quarter of a century ago. Except maybe for Smalltown Boy. The most beautiful song. But do you remember the video? One more reason to be terrified and NOT come out.

So, I was silent. It also did not help that I knew for sure from our conversations that if I told my friend about me being gay and my feelings for him, pretty much everything good in my life would end.

I was correct. After suffering for several long years feeling increasingly cold inside from not being able to speak up and express what I feel, I finally managed to confess to him somehow. And yes, it went almost as bad as I expected. I was told that I was a misguided fool, and that I should never speak up about it again. Never speak up.

See. My first coming out experience was pretty bad. But not something objectively bad. I was not beaten up or bullied or outed, thank god. That was out of question, I knew him too well for that. But still. Somehow I was left even more dead and frozen on the inside than I was before. Not something to look for in the future.

But eventually, things got better. I found new funny and geeky hobbies, through which I met great new friends-for-life. I got three university degrees, including a PhD, and became a scientist. I started a music blog, and eventually freelanced as a music journalist. Finally being able to talk about what music meant for me was a liberation.

On a personal front, things were also moving somewhere somehow. There were other unrequited loves. Deeply engaging epistolary relationships with anonymous penpals. (Hi, Blue!) Casual sex. Proper offline boyfriends, and even serious long-term relationships. Some drama along the way, of course. But, until recently, no great love stories coming along with that. Somehow, deep inside, I ached for a great love story to happen in my life.

And then there were those other coming outs. Nothing objectively bad. Always insanely awkward. When I told my mother, she said that I had an irrevocable right to ruin my life and do whatever I want, and we hadn’t talked about me being gay for the next twelve years. A roommate did not believe I was gay at first, and then, when I insisted that I was not joking, he cussed and stopped talking to me for two weeks. A girl who had a crush on me laughed with relief that there’s something wrong with me and not her as I didn’t return her feelings. But there were other friends, who accepted me unconditionally, sometimes even without fully understanding what I was talking about and what it meant for me. I am so grateful to them. But in the end, it was not enough for me to shake that feeling of permanent awkwardness and fear of being me. I chose to remain in the closet for the rest of the world.

But you know what’s (not really) funny? That the same happened with all other important things in my life. It’s like I was permanently living in a giant ball of awkwardness. I had to keep mostly silent about my geeky hobbies at my wonderful science job, even though these hobbies were the main source of my creativity and inspiration. In turn, my wonderful geek friends could not care less about my music tastes. My music friends kind of respected me as a science guy, but I could never talk with them about actual science. And beneath all of that was this big-ass gay secret. It’s like I was living at least four parallel lives, but never a complete one.

I guess once you decide to remain in the closet about one thing, you cannot fully be yourself about other stuff. I became so used to self-editing. Self-censorship. Strategic omissions. And, worst of all, being mute about most important things with most important people.

There are all those reasons why you should continue doing so. It’s dangerous to come out in my home country. It could harm me. It could cause collateral damage to my colleagues, students, professional networks, projects I worked on. It could hurt my family.

But the truth is, people can get no less hurt when you choose to be mute. I know I hurt people by not speaking up about something important to them and choosing silence instead. But there is even a bigger danger. Once you start to pile up silences, little white lies, and strategic omissions, they may grow up to the size of a mountain, and one day simply crumble under their own weight. There will be a lot of pain and harm involved. And I wonder: what if there was no mountain from the very beginning?

Still, the worst is what you are doing to yourself. When you cannot make yourself talk about things that are important to you, you either become a pressure cooker and explode one day – or they slowly die within you, freezing you in the process. And these may be too precious things to lose.

I have thought that eventually, I became better at talking. I have a group of wonderful friends with whom, I thought, I could be more or less myself in every sense, including gay stuff. But somehow, even after all these years, I still cannot do it all, even with them. I cannot even reply to a Facebook challenge about 10 favorite albums, because, like, at least 3 of them would be too gay. I cannot make myself talk about my favorite movies that made an impact on me, because, again: gay. I mumble something unintelligible about my career goals in science, because, in truth, what I mostly care about is how to solve not a grand scientific challenge, but a classic academic “two-body problem” further complicated by a gay twist.

Then one day I saw Love, Simon. That same night, I immediately bought Simon vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda, devoured it in two sleepless nights, and re-read it twice since then. I went to see the movie, like, another seven times. And have listened to the wonderful soundtrack and the score, like, a hundred times already, and don’t plan on stopping any time soon. I simply cannot get enough of this movie and of the Simonverse. And all the time I’ve been trying to sort out why did it hit me so hard and sweet? Why have I suddenly turned into an obsessed teenage fanboy?

Then I realized, I am just so fucking sick and tired of not speaking. I simply cannot stand it anymore. I need to speak. I have to speak. I must speak. Somehow, Simon and his story made it so obvious. Why I was so stupid not realizing it before?

But there’s another twist to that. Everyone deserves a great love story.

I’ve never seen a movie in my life to which I could relate so strongly. Yes, I was that “just like you” kid back then. Living a normal life without any really big problems. Obsessed with music and friendships. Awkward and unable to speak about important things. Alone.

(Oh god. Do you even realize how lonely Simon should have felt if his favorite song is Waltz #2??)

Unfortunately, my great first love story never happened. Instead, I shut myself up for decades to come. But somehow, Love, Simon movie and incredible writing by Becky Albertalli put me right there, back into my seventeen year old me, and finally showed how that first love story could have happened differently, retroactively replacing those long-buried feelings of sadness and despair with joy about the things to come.

And, boy, they did come. Who knew that you can finally get your own very personal great love story when you are at 34, almost ready to give up on happiness? It was wild, it was unpredictable, it was fateful, it was insane, it was unbearably romantic. It was – and, four years later, still is – love.

This story also physically moved me across oceans and continents to, out of all places, the city of Atlanta, Georgia. So, imagine this extra little level of relatability in Love, Simon / Simon vs. (That damn Radiohead, April 2 concert that I did not get to! That gay bar scene!) And now I’m dying to tell my story. Because that’s the most important and amazing thing that happened in my life. Because it is about hope. Because it is about breaking through. Because it is about believing that you deserve everything you want. Because love is a game we deserve to play out loud.

The problem is that I still haven’t quite figured out how to tell my story. Old habits die hard. But I will try. As I said, I cannot stay silent anymore. I need to come out. And I’ll start here.

[andtheywereroom-mates]

In hindsight, it had been incredibly arrogant of them to have come.

The children are playing in an open area of the square, chasing one another. Ivan stops in front of him, grinning, out of breath. “Dad, can we go meet Mommy?” Zabuza ruffles his son’s hair, stands and follows behind them, watching the triplets loop around each other in their practiced dance, speaking their own language in their own little orbit it seems. Dagny’s small fingers looped around his are icy; she points out the intricate spires of the Kremlin and he has to smile softly at her enthusiasm. Zabuza grips her hand tighter as he watches the triplets weave through the sparse crowd towards their mother, walking not far behind. All at once, someone barrels into him, knocking his shoulder back slightly as his focus had been trained on the kids. He blinks at the stranger for only a second, but it is all it takes. When his gaze falls back ahead of him, the children are nowhere to be seen. His palm is regaining its familiar warmth at the absence of Dagny’s touch.

He can’t breathe. His head whips around in the growing crowd around them--where had all these people come from? Panicked, he begins to walk forward, slowly breaking into a sprint. “Vix!” his first attempt, chokes noiseless from his throat. In the second, the fear, panic, terror is evident in his voice. She turns, raising an eyebrow, but seeing his face, his frenetic movements, she knows something’s wrong. “The kids!” he cries, terrified, apologetic. She looks down and sees he’s alone. The ice cream in her hands falls to the pavement. She begins pushing through the people to get a good look around. Though it was never ideal to make a scene outside their normal circles, the two of them begin apparating about the square, but mysteriously the children seem to have vanished into thin air.

“Dagny!” “Ivan!”

“Kiriko!” “Viktor”

They desperately call their names, but it is useless. They split to cover more ground and then, faint, but clear enough to her ears, Vix hears Ivan calling her in that worried tone of his. She whips around, eyes darting about the square. A glimpse of Kiri’s dark hair. “Kiriko,” she breathes. Vix is pushing through the crowd, desperately trying not to lose sight of the small head bobbing further down. Finally, there is space enough for her to see all four of them, but she cannot make herself move. Her hands clench into fists at her side. She wants to scream, but nothing comes out, she can’t call to them, to Zabuza, to anyone. Run, move, go to them, save them. Vix’s mouth sputters open and closed.

They are laughing, enjoying their newfound treats. Their parents had told them to be wary of strangers, but surely that didn’t apply when this man before them was the spitting image of their mother:  his angled cheekbones the same ones Kiri and Viktor bore; the same deep, almond eyes as Ivy; the very same dimples as Dagny when he smiled at the four of them so warmly. Valentin looks up and meets Vix’s eyes, and a cruel, knowing smile twists his features. A nightmare, this was just a nightmare.

“Z-Z-Za-z-Zab...” Talk, dammit, say anything! His talons snake around Viktor’s shoulder, lifting the boy onto his hip. All at once three others appear, too quick for his usual goons, too precise.... they make a series of signs and the children are asleep, pliable. She tries to make a sign, a signal, but she can’t feel her limbs, can’t make her fingers move. This weakness still after everything.... Valentin lifts Viktor’s hand and waves it at Vix. Save them save them save them. The last thing she registers before she blacks out is Zabuza’s dark energy speeding past her as the group disappears.

---

Zabuza is pacing vigorously back in forth in their hotel room. “I was watching them, Dagny was holding my hand, the triplets were still within reach, I.... I don’t know what happened. I swear, I was watching them. I was watching them.” He fists his hands through his hair, doing his best to remain calm, calculating, but he is spiraling because it’s his fault. He had taken his eyes away, he was likely the reason they were in danger, he had lost their trail. Some expert jonin he turned out to be if he failed when it mattered most. They could be anywhere in this vast, unknown fucking country and the more time that ticks away, the more panicked he becomes. “Those were definitely hunter-nin....but what are they doing here..”

Zabuza brings a hand to his chin. “Even if someone were tracking me down, there would be no reason it would lead them here of all places...” He thinks back through every movement they’d made in the last few years for some mistake, some slip-up, something he is clearly missing. The U.S. was too far for even the most determined avenger to come looking for him. Despite living in the Tower, he never made it into the tabloids like his more notorious roommates. There was no way anyone would have known about the kids, about Vix or--.

He halts and glances at Vix who has been silent and eerily still, staring at her hands. “How are you so calm right now?” Zabuza snaps, not meaning to. Vix chews her lip for a moment and avoids his gaze. “I...” she sighs. None of this was supposed to happen. Her past was supposed to be long buried, but she had led her family right into the devil’s hands. If anything happened to them, it would be no one’s fault but her own. She meets her husband’s eyes, apologetic.  “I know where they are.”

--

They had ridden in silence for the last hour. Vix had stepped out to make a few calls and when she returned to the room, she had a car loaded up with their gear, presumably a delivery from one of Tony’s suits. In the dim glow of the dashboard, he sees she is scowling deeply, clenching and unclenching her fists on the steering wheel. Zabuza trusted her completely, but seeing her purposeful composure was making him uneasy. Whatever plan she had, whatever she was thinking, she was keeping it to herself.

Gently, he takes one of her hands in his and traces his thumb along her knuckles. Vix casts him a sidelong glance, but her expression remains unchanged. “They’re going to be okay,” she reassures. “I know,” he replies. She intertwines her fingers over his on the gear shift, “That bastard has no idea what he’s done,” she growls under her breath. Her eyes are murderous as she shifts gears and weaves faster through the city traffic. “No,” Zabuza can feel the hairs on the back of neck standing on end, that familiar bloodlust, barely kept in check, settling in his veins. “No, I don’t think they do.”

//

Having parked the car on some back road, they continue the rest of the way on foot. They reach a clearing and Vix slides her duffel to the ground and begins rummaging through it. Zabuza meanwhile is staring at the enormous compound in the distance, perplexed. “Vix....where are we?” She is wrapping bandages about her hands and grimaces at the mansion. “Home.” Zabuza furrows his brow. “Home?” He turns to look at her, incredulous. “Your home?” She pulls the wraps tightly around her wrist and tears the tape with her teeth. “Yep.” He knew she came from money but this...is a level he had not considered. “As in you grew up here.” Vix sighs as she ties her curls up into a ponytail. “Yes.” “Just casually running around a palace.” She tightens her sword sheaths around her chest and scoffs. “Running. You don’t even know.” Zabuza folds his arms and shakes his head. She can sense he is about to ask more questions that she does not want to answer.

“Michi.” He turns and she kisses him, earnest, grounding. She pulls away and traces her thumb along his cheek. In all honesty, she had no idea what would happen once inside, and she needed to know they had at least had this last reprieve. She had already left him without saying goodbye once. Vix nods determinedly, “Let’s go get our babies.”

//

“Is there a reason a rich family needs this much security?” Zabuza rests Kubikiribōchō on his shoulder as it reforms. Vix searches one of the fallen guards and finds the key card she was looking for. “It’s not really about the money.” Zabuza laughs as he follows her lead to avoid the cameras. “What, have you got hidden treasure in the basement?” Vix sprints and kicks off the wall, leaping towards an unsuspecting guard and flipping him onto the ground with ease. He slumps, unconscious, and she blows a stray curl out of her face. “Um, well you know the Tartaglia Organization?” Zabuza looks beyond surprised. He elbows a guard in the face as he rounds the corner and stabs a kunai into his gut. He substitutes behind their partner, cracks their neck, then deftly signs a water prison to trap the rest. “How do you know the Tartaglia Organization?” he counters. Vix twirls and cuts a guard down with her katana before kicking another into a large mirror. She slides across the floor to grasp their gun before they can pick it back up and fires two shots.

She scans the key card and two enormous metal doors slide open to reveal a lavish staircase. “Well,” As the duo make it to the top, Vix’s arms drop to her sides and Zabuza’s mouth falls open as they look up at an enormous portrait. The father is seated, his wife and child, accessories standing at his side. A ring with the distinct insignia of the organization rests on his finger. The mother bears an alarming resemblance to his own wife, and though she is much smaller, the child is undoubtedly her. Vix inhales shakily, “our family founded it.”

Zabuza’s brow knits tightly as he struggles to make sense of what he was seeing. He steeples his hands at his lips, as a sudden clarity washes over him. “You,” he begins slowly. “grew up in--no,” he closes his eyes and begins again, “are the heiress to one of the largest crime syndicates in the world....and you never thought that was significant to mention !?” he hisses. He cocks his head to look at her, awaiting whatever sugar-sweet explanation she would concoct for him this time. But she is simply staring at the portrait still, breathing heavy, trembling.

Zabuza places a hand gently on her shoulder. “Hey.” No reaction. He moves in front of her and leans down to her eye level. She blinks at him. She is terrified, a fear in her eyes the likes of which he has never seen from her. Zabuza takes her face gently in his hands. “I can take care of this if you need to go. You just tell me what to expect, where to find the kids. You don’t have to do this, love.” Tears dip onto her cheeks and she bites her lip, shaking her head softly.

She had spent countless years running from, agonizing over her time in this very place. She had escaped, made a life for herself, full of all the light and love she didn’t believe existed. Yet here she was, frozen with fear, made small, insignificant, at the very sight of them. Her fists clench at her sides. She was stronger than this. Dagny and the triplets’ laughter echo in her mind. Their children needed her to be stronger than this. Vix swallows hard and lifts her chin with a bit more determination. “It has to be me.”

She pulls out a scrap of paper and draws a rough map of the house on it. “You look for the kids. He’ll be keeping them on one of the upper levels, but as we’ve seen, there’ll be much more than the usual goons. Avoid the cameras. Keep them quick and quiet. Should be easy enough for you, silent killer.” Zabuza smirks. He feels a sense of pride watching her steel herself and give him orders. Vix checks her watch uneasily. “I’d say we have about two hours.” “Hm.” Zabuza sets his own watch. “There’s a dumbwaiter on the second floor that connects straight to the top. There’s a um...” She hesitates for a long moment and he glances at her concerned. “A um...hidden level.” She points to a spot off the main lines of the map. “Here.”

“He knows we’ll be coming, but the longer we avoid attention, the less time he has to potentially move the kids.” Zabuza nods. “And you?”  Vix clenches her teeth and glares up at the portrait. “Cut the head off the snake and the body will die.”

[luckystarchild]

“But, No Biggie!”: My Horrific Start to NaNoWriMo 2017

Or, “I Don’t Deserve Sympathy: A Pushover’s Account of Personal Perseverance”

It began on All-NaNo’s Eve, (a night known to outsiders as Halloween), as all good horror stories do.

At 11:30 PM on October 31, I receive a distress call from a friend in Iceland. She is moving stateside soon. She signed a lease on a new apartment within a mile of my workplace; can I please pick up the keys for her when the office opens at 9 AM? Someone has to get them and she’s not in the country yet.

I am supposed to arrive to work at 9 AM. I will therefore be late to work if I do her this favor…but her apartment is so close to my workplace. I’ll be an asshole if I say “no.”

(Remember this logic. It will come into play again.)

Not wanting to be an asshole (and in no small part because she’s awesome, the task needed to be done, and being late to work isn’t a big deal), I say yes, and am 15 minutes late to work. I will have to stay 15 minutes late this evening to make up the missing time, and will therefore be late to this evening’s write-in (which I have been looking forward to attending).

But, no biggie! I can begin writing on my lunch break. I always write on my lunch break, anyway. I will kick NaNo2017’s ass, starting today, on my lunch break!

Alas, my boss announces a mandatory department lunch shortly into the workday.

I will not be writing at lunch today, after all.

Hyped up to write as I am, this is a disappointing turn of events. “But, no-biggie!” I tell myself. “There’s still this evening’s write-in. Even if I’m a bit late, I can still get some words written. Awesome!”

Alas, at 5:30 PM, my boss sends me an email. We have emergency rush work that must be done immediately. Please, Star Charter, get this done tonight.

He has emailed me at least two hours’ worth of extra work.

I will not be making it to tonight’s write-in, after all.

More disappointment, more delayed momentum, more putting off getting started—but, no biggie! I can finish this extra work, go home, take a hot bath, and then write in my room until bedtime. Not an ideal start to my NaNo, but gosh darnit, I’m getting these words written come high water or hell! I diligently set to work on my additional tasks, productivity set to maximum so I can get home and finally start writing.

Alas, at 6:20 PM, I receive another distress call from a different friend (who is also participating in NaNoWriMo). One of their friends is, through no fault of their own, being forced to leave the state on short notice, leaving behind a dog. This dog doesn’t need much—merely to be walked once a day, during the middle of the day, with roommates taking care of said dog in the mornings and evenings. My duties will last for approximately one week. Can I please walk this dog every day for the next week, on my lunch breaks?

Lunch breaks I have planned to dedicate to NaNoWriMo.

I am sorely tempted to say “no.” I need my lunch breaks. For the past year, I have spent all but a handful of my lunch breaks writing. Giving up my lunches to care for a stranger’s dog, during NaNo of all possible months, is the exact opposite of ideal.

But the apartment housing the dog is across the stress from my workplace.

I’ll be an asshole if I say “no.”

(I told you to remember my earlier logic, didn’t I?)

Animal lover than I am, person-who-doesn’t-want-to-look-like-an-asshole that I am, pushover that I am, I say yes. I am instructed to go to this stranger’s house immediately after I get off work to pick up a key and meet the dog—further delaying my journey home and my start to NaNoWriMo.

“But, no biggie!” I tell myself, eye twitching with manic energy. “I’ll just be a little late. That’s all!”

I frantically finish up my work and leave to meet the dog, making it there by 7:05 PM. The apartment complex is directly across the street. It is well-known for sketchy characters, shootings, and muggings. I slink to the apartment door clutching my purse, then knock.

The door opens. I am bowled over by 100 pounds of furiously friendly animal.

The dog, I learn, is enormous, hasn’t learned not to jump on people, and is a ball of pure, unrestrained enthusiasm—much to the chagrin of my outfit. My dress is torn, my tights are mangled, and my nicest, most expensive pair of boots now sport a deep gouge on the toe.

But. No biggie. Let’s get the key and get out, go home and write and forget this ever—

The dog’s owner is crying.

The dog’s owner is a lovely person, and is in distress, and her situation is absolutely awful. Writers, empathetic people as we are, cannot simply walk away from that. I am not going to leave her like this. So, I sit on her couch and listen to her, because that’s what you do in that situation. Girls gotta stick together, support each other.

As we talk, my phone buzzes in my pocket two or three times a minute.

The notifications are from my writer friends, discussing how productive and lovely all of their write-ins are.

The irony of it stings. But, no biggie. I’ll get home…eventually,. And I’ll write. And it will be OK.

It will be OK!

She tells me she doesn’t actually know when she’ll be back and hasn’t booked a return flight; I’ll be watching the dog indefinitely. But that’s no biggie; it’s just my lunch break. I order us a pizza. I set up her Uber for the next morning, to take her to the airport. By the time I leave she’s feeling…well, not better, but at least centered, and that’s a victory...though I’ve learned the hard way she also has a cat, which has made my left eye swell near-to-shut and set my throat on fire, my nose to streaming, my skin to welting from the dander.

I am there till 9:30 PM. I drive home with the use of only one eye. I have a mild panic episode at the light near my house when a driver runs a red light and blows past me. I am home at 9:50 PM. I shower, finish up the work my boss assigned, and am finally ready to write at nearly 11 PM.

I pop a Benadryl, crack my knuckles, and get to work.

One eye still swollen shut, throat still on fire, sinuses like fire hydrants (but, no biggie!), I sit down and write one thousand, six hundred, and sixty seven words. It feels like utter magic.

And then I pass the hell out, somehow in bed ten minutes before my bedtime.

It was not a good start to NaNoWriMo. But I started. And despite the onslaught of high water and hell, I hit my daily word goal. If I made it through this, the rest of the month ain’t got shit. I’m in full “COME AT ME, BRO” mode, SO BRING IT ON, NANO 2017, because I’ve got your number.

Your number 50-freaking-thousand by the end of the month, and it ain’t no biggie.

[laurensisalinamonroll-blog]

Tall, Dark and Handsome

 Words:2172 

This is my first X Reader for the Hamilton fandom, I hope you enjoy!- Grace

Modern and Soulmate AU. For the sake of the plot, Reader lives in the U.K.

"You can hear your Soulmates's thoughts, and they can hear your own. You have the ability to 'tune' them out. Although, any attempt to find one another before fate has planned, will ultimately fail. That would include asking each other's location and so on."

Everyone first hears their soulmate at a different age. I first heard mine when I was 14. I was in the midst of an English literature exam. I remember looking at my paper frustrated, my pen tapping rhythmically against my forehead. 'Provide a short statement using the Rule Of Three'. I couldn't remember what it was, never-mind give an example.

I let out a growl in vexation, which prompted Mr. Johnston to narrow his eyes and glare in my direction. I quickly looked away. 'Think (Y/N), think! Rule of three, think of an example for the rule of three. I mean, it has something to do with 3...'

"Tall, dark and handsome," a voice said. I looked at the classmate who had sat beside me- then at everyone else in my vicinity. My eyes were wide with confusion, that voice had sounded eerily close. Then my jaw went slack in realisation. "Tall, dark and handsome," the voice had repeated, "while they are three words that perfectly describe me, it's also an example of the Rule Of Three."

That was five years ago. I'm now 19, and in my first year of university. Since that day, I speak to my soulmate everyday. He turned out to be a 17 year old (now 22) boy who lived in the Caribbean. His name was Alexander, and after two years of  us speaking, he moved to the U.S. That didn't make much difference to me, as I lived in the U.K. Although, as of four months ago, I moved to America.

I had gotten a full Scholarship to NYU to study modern languages. When I had first tried to tell Alexander that I was now living in New York, it was almost like a phone line cut off. It just went silent and at first I thought he had left me. Soon after, however, he said my name and it was like the connection was fixed once more. This had only happened once before, when we tried to tell each other our last names. Fate had intervened.  

Now I'm leading a normal life as a student. I share a two bedroom apartment with my flat mate, Mia. She also goes to NYU, but she's studying law and is in her second year of University. She had contacted me via the university, looking for a new roommate. I accepted it immediately, she had lived in New York most her life and I was new to town- I'd need her.

Mia and I quickly grew close, and eventually became best friends. At the minute she's looking through the middle draw of the cabinet- the menu drawer. It was dubbed the name 'Menu Drawer' a few weeks after my arrival, as all take-out menus were shoved in there and forgotten until Friday evenings.  "We had a Chinese last week, so how about pizza?" Mia spoke up, stopping my thoughts.

I rolled my eyes as I broke out into a grin. It was her turn to pick, which meant pizza. I'm surprised she isn't sick of it at this point. "Go for it, not too many toppings though." I replied. With her chosen menu in her right hand and her phone in the other, she furrowed her eyebrows at me, "Why not?". I stood up from my place on the sofa and strutted to the middle of the room. I then continued to run my hands down my sides while wiggling my hips. "Because, I need to maintain this figure." I said, then proceeded to burst out into a fit of giggles. "Just messing, add as many as you like." Mia laughed along with me, blond hair bouncing at her shoulders.

I sighed and walked out of the main room, and headed down the hall to my bedroom. Mid-terms would be in a few weeks, and I really needed to revise. My Spanish is flawless, if i do say so myself. As is my German, but my French... my French is horrendous. I am going to fail French. "Aw, ma petite fleur. Qu'est-ce que tu as?"

"Alexander, I didn't know you spoke French, and like I said, I'm going to fail."

"I'm fluent, actually. And I'm sure you'll do fine, (Y/N). You're a smart girl."

"Says you, who finished college early and can speak French fluently."

"Yes but that's myself, you are dif- You said college."

"Uh, yeah?"

"You're British, they don't typically say College."

"Oh, I guess you're right"

"I'm always correct. Although, tell me, are you in America?"

"Yes! I tried to tell you that before but then w-"

"Hey, Pizza is here!" Mia called from the main room. I contemplated staying in my room and just talking to Alexander, but my duties as a friend calls.

"I gotta go, Alex. Can we talk later?"

"(Y/N)! You can't just leave, we're in the same country! Maybe that's why the time differences changed, I mean I didn't think to ask... Which state are you in? Wait, which University?"

I laughed slightly before replying, "Goodbye, Alexander."

I sat on the sofa nibbling on a slice of pizza. We were watching some old DVD Mia had. I had tried reaching out to Alexander to ask him what his favourite type of pizza was- but I didn't get a reply. I think he's still annoyed that I tuned him out earlier, which I understand. I still apologised, and pushed the slight doubt that he'd left me forever to the back of my mind. My train of thoughts then went to past conversations with Alexander.

He rambles a lot. When there's something that's annoyed him or something he feels passionate about, he will tell me. I think that's amazing. I personally am one to keep to myself. Alexander is such a contrast to me, and I'm pretty sure that's a good thing. If we were both very talkative or very quiet no actual conversation would be made. As the DVD continued, I kept eating my pizza and thinking of Alex.

It's Saturday afternoon, and I'm supposed to be revising French. The more I look at the text book, the more I get irritated. One hour in of doing nothing, I just screamed. I yelled and shouted profanities to get across that I cannot, for the life of me, remember any of this. A few seconds after, when my throat was hoarse and I was breathing heavily, Mia entered my room. She swung the door open, eyes open and alert.

"Is there a burglar? Or a spider?" She asked, looking around my room. I sighed and rested my head in the palms of my hands. "Neither. That was me practising the sound of despair I'll make when I fail my mid-terms." I mumbled. She made a soft 'Oh', and then made her way over to my desk and I. She heavily planted her hand on my head and ruffled my hair. I groaned and tried to shake her off.

"You'll be fine! What if I told you, that there is a guy in my Criminal Justice class that is French." she said. I raised my head to look at her, hair covering my eyes. I pushed my fringe out of the way and answered her, "I would say, 'good for him'? I don't see how that effects anything."

Mia giggled once more. "He's low on money, and is totally willing to do anything at the minute. He could tutor you in French for a few extra dollars." This made my ears perk up, a tutor! I still have a few hundred dollars in my saving account from birthday money and my job. "Do you think he'll accept $100 for three weeks of tutoring? Around two nights a week?" I asked, voice suddenly hopeful.

Mia's brown eyes twinkled as she nodded enthusiastically. "I'll text him now and ask him. But don't worry, he should be up for it!" she replied, phone already in hand. I sprung up from my chair and pulled her into a hug, jumping up and down. "Thank you, thank you." I chanted, she laughed and patted me on the head before she unlocked her phone.

The tutor worked a charm. That was four weeks ago, and I just got my results from my French exam. My tutor was called Lafayette, and he was possibly the kindest human being possible. After the three weeks of tutoring were over, I tried to give him a payment. When I did, he refused and said he would only give it to me after I got my results. As I walked out of the university campus, I couldn't help but think of the A I got.

"Well done. I told you that you could do it." I stopped and paused, that was Alexander's voice. He hadn't spoken to me for almost a month now.

"Alexander. Hi, and uh thank you."

"I'm sorry (Y/N). I shouldn't have ignored you. It was childish, and I've been busy at work, just please forgive me."

"Well... you're forgiven. I just got an A on my French exam, nothing can ruin my mood now."

"Good, I'm glad you got the results you deserve. When we meet I'm bringing you out to dinner to celebrate. Wherever you want to go."

That's when the reality hit me, 'When we meet'. I will meet Alexander. We're in the same country, we're both aware we're in the same country.

"That sounds great, Alexander. I just ca-," my thoughts came to an abrupt stop when my phone began ringing. "Alex, I need to go. I'm getting a call, I'll talk to you later."

"Okay, love. My break is nearly over anyway, goodbye."

I blushed at the nickname before tuning him out. I looked at the caller ID to see Lafayette, then I quickly answered. "Hey, Lafayette!"

Lafayette was ecstatic to hear about my grade. We made arrangements to meet up at a small bar, so I could give him his fee and so we could catch up. I put on black skinny jeans, my favourite t-shirt and a pair of boots. I grabbed my jacket before I walked to the bar.

When I arrived, I spotted Lafayette at a table but he wasn't alone. Three other men accompanied him. Suddenly feeling small, I tip-toed over. They were laughing at something I wasn't aware of, and none of them seemed to notice me. I gently tapped Lafayette on the shoulder. He turned around and grinned at me. "You made it!" he all but shouted.

I simply nodded and waved back, a small smile on my face. On the inside I was panicking, I don't do well with new people. Especially if they're drunk. Well, Lafayette and the tall, muscled one were drinking. The guy with the freckles wasn't drinking, and neither was the attractive one with the long hair. It didn't matter, I was still panicking.

I can't do this, I'm going to die.

"(Y/N)? Is everything okay?" I visibly relaxed at Alexander's voice.

"I'll be fine, don't worry."

I heard Lafayette say something to me, then I snapped back to reality. "Oh sorry, that was rude of me. I was just, uh talking" I quietly explained, hoping he knew what I meant. His eyes widened and he nodded vigorously. "Oui, of course. Do not worry!" he said, accent coming through stronger than usual. Then, I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a white envelope. It was his fee (which I raised to $150, because his tutoring was amazing).

As I handed it over Alexander spoke once more, "You know there's a girl here who might just steal me away from you."

"W-what?" I replied, even stuttering in my mind. There had been stories of soulmates who left each other for other people.

"(Y/N). Look at me please." Alexander spoke again, only this time it wasn't inside my mind. I looked around, and immediately locked eyes with the man with the long hair. He smiled at me and unexpectedly I blurted out, "Well if it isn't Tall, Dark and Handsome."  

I heard the tall muscled man mutter 'what the fuck' under his breath, but before I could respond I was pulled into an embrace. I'm almost positive he knocked over a chair getting to me. I hugged him back, as my heart raced a mile a minute. "How did you know it was me?" I asked, voice soft. I felt his chest vibrate as he chuckled. "Your accent was kind of a give away, and I couldn't take my eyes off of you. You never mentioned you were fucking gorgeous."

I squeaked and buried my head into his coat in embarrassment. He stepped away slightly and looked at Lafayette. "Sorry, Laf. I think I'll be tutoring her from now on."

Fin.

I don’t have anything to say.- Julia (She manages the account because Grace can’t use technology)

[hockeygirl19]

“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.”

Ever read one of those quotes and get that mixed feeling of adventure but also defeat? I can’t be the only one to log into my Facebook or Instagram only to be bombarded by beautiful holiday photos taken on a picturesque beach somewhere hot and sunny, or in an exotic city I’ve never heard of. I also cannot be the only one who’s seen those almost gag-worthy inspirational quotes for maybe the hundredth time – I may even be guilty of sharing a few of them myself. 

Its a double edged sword – part of you feels this massive sense of adventure, the need for more and the want to get off of your a** and do those things too. 

But at the same time you also get that feeling of deflation as you look around your room, maybe you even packed your bag for this adventure, but then check your bank balance just to realize you only have enough money to get you to work the next day. 

That is what these quotes and pictures lack – the know-how on what to do to achieve these weird and wonderful things. How does Sarah that you went to elementary with afford all of these trips, and how does your mom’s friend Susan’s son manage to go on thirty holidays a year? 

For years I felt like this, and sometimes I still do, but I found a way to work and travel. 

Even tho I am in a different country doing a job it is still a 9-7 job. It’s not full-time travel and that’s where I wanna be in the next few years. But i made it possible to be in a new country trying new things daily.

MAKE TRAVEL YOUR PRIORITY.

Sounds simple, right? Except I tried to do this for years to no avail. I’ve been trying to save on and off since I was fourteen, I’m now I’m in my twenties. And before this year do you know how much I’d saved? Absolutely nothing. Something more important always seemed to come up or I would order takeaway when I couldn’t be bothered to cook, to get a brand new phone, to getting tequila shot number seven on a night out, to get those new boots I really wanted. 

Me this time two years ago was spending stupid amounts of money on alcohol and nights out. The second I got paid I saw every penny of it as disposable and somehow always seemed to find the money for more alcohol or stupid things I did not need. I was living pay cheque to pay cheque with no opportunities to move up in work. If I ever did get any extra money it would just be spent on new shoes or new jeans. 

Thankfully now my priorities have changed into something that’s a lot better – TRAVEL. 

Believe it or not, people who go traveling and travel the world do not have a magic money tree – or at least if they do they haven’t told me about it. We just change our spending habits to accommodate our travel ambitions. 

But of course, this information is absolutely useless if you don’t even know how to save money if you feel you don’t do anything extraordinary and yet still can’t save. The following are simple, realistic tips on how to save money to travel plus how to spend less while traveling. 

FOOD

Food. Everybody needs it, its usually more expensive than we’d like, and it eats up more of your money than you usually intend. 

So how do you reduce spending on such a necessity without starving yourself? It can be pretty simple really when you get into the habit. 

Step one: keep track of what you buy over a week or a month and when. It may seem boring and a pain in the a** to write it all down but it can be very eye-opening. Record how much you spend on coffees, take out, meals, at the grocery store, etc. Then look at how you can halve it. Seems impossible, right?

Wrong. This is what I spent in a week sometime last year when I first started keeping a record:

Take away – $40.00-$50.00

Food shop – $50.00-$200.00

Alcohol – $40.00

And now:

Food shop – $100.00

Take away – $30.00

You need to look at what you’re spending and realize where you’re money is going – what’s the point in buying a meal every day for lunch and coffee on your way to work when you can invest $5.00 for a lunch box, $10.00 for a travel flask and save hundreds?

The organization is key when saving money – plan your meals, make your lunch the night before, wake up early enough to have breakfast and coffee at home, even bulk cook on the weekend if you’re pushed for time during the week. A shopping list is also always invaluable – I’ve been shopping before with no list and somehow spent $50.00 unable to make a single full meal out of the products so ended up caving and getting takeaway. 

There is also the option for couponing and cash back apps on your phone. I must admit this is not something I do all too often when grocery shopping. I have known people to get groceries for virtually nothing just by cutting coupons out of magazines and newspapers, buying certain products with cash-back codes, and scouring online before leaving the house. If you do this, however, please do remember that just because it’s cheap it does not mean is a bargain. You do not need stacks of food ‘just in case’ – still only buy what you’ll eat.

TREAT YO SELF 

Now nobody can be expected to live their life with absolutely no treats or happiness, even if that is just between adventures. 

However, you also don’t need to spend $100.00 a week on date night or a ladies night. 

Instead of going out to the bar we would have people over to the house, buy a few drinks or maybe even a bottle of vodka between us and spend the nights having drinks and playing cards while listening to great music. We’ve even done the same but taken some drinks to the bush where we can simply sit with a drink and watch the sunset with friends and have a fire. 

Some of my best memories have been huddled under a blanket with some friends, pleasantly tipsy with some country tunes playing from a speaker, just staring at the endless stars in the sky and having a laugh.

If you still want to actually go out on proper dates there is a way – you will find most places will have offers when you have a look for them. You just need a patient and the mindset to save money, so look for the deals! 

DOWNSIZE

This one is slightly more difficult to achieve, and admittedly not achievable to everyone – however it is also a great way to save money. Downsizing is a great way to cut costs and increase savings. 

You only have to do what you’re comfortable with – either lose a spare bedroom, move to a cheaper area of the city or a little further out, look for live in work, live in a shared house with two other roommates, or live in a shared house with eleven other roommates. Maybe even rent out a spare room on Airbnb!

Downsizing is also a fantastic excuse to get rid of what you don’t want – there are so many apps you can use to depart with what you don’t want anymore which can earn you a tiny little profit. I used Facebook to sell plenty of things I no longer wanted. 

BUDGETS

I touched on this previously with the food but honestly, it is so important. I have always been the sort of person to spend the second money hits my bank account, and only save money back that I hadn’t spent by the end of the month. Quite often that amount was nothing. The biggest thing to do is budgets – if you only use one bit of advice from this, use budgets. 

 What helps to do a budget is keeping track of everything you spend for a month so you can look at what you can alter, where you can cut back, and go from there. A budget isn’t finite either – you can go back and alter it to your requirements. 

You can use any means you want to help you organize your own budget: I use a budgeting app on my MacBook but I know people who use Microsoft Excel or other phone apps.

MONEY POT

Another great bit of advice is saving the pennies. 

If you don’t use cash very often there are apps out there for spending on your card. For every purchase you make it puts the odd pennies into your savings account. So if you spend $3.99 it’ll put a penny across, if you spend $4.65 it’ll transfer the 35 pennies. It may seem small and it’s hardly the amount of money you’ll miss, but if it’s used it every transaction you’ll start to see it add up in no time. 

A SECOND JOB

This isn’t for everyone but it can help massively. Another income is always going to help people save. 

Three hours an evening is neither backbreaking or unbearable, even an extra six hours a week would add up to a lot over the course of a year.

Another option is a ‘side hustle’- if you’re good with business, skilled in any way or have something people are looking for this may be for you! 

There are thousands of options out there for someone looking to create a small business or start freelancing. Just a few options would be tutoring, teaching English or another language, proofreading, copywriting, web design and more. Business ideas couple be drop shipping on eBay or Facebook market place, to creating a new product. There are even more complex/risky options of laying bets or online poker. 

I do see some people even start selling for different multi-level marketing companies but this is not something I can happily recommend – the majority of people who start these end up losing money or take years to start making money back on their original investment. Instead of buying into one, even if you’re passionate about it, I’d instead recommend doing your own thing within that passion. Just remember that not everything you see online is true so even if it looks like everyone who sells MLM is making thousands it doesn’t necessarily mean its true. 

With the internet at your fingertips, there is just so much you can do and so many great resources to find out exactly how! These things can be hard work and take a certain amount of time and risk, but the possibilities are endless.

From a lot of these, you can also start working towards what you want to do for remote work. I see far too many people only try to start this while they’re already traveling but this simply does not work – you need to start beforehand and work on building it up before you take off. It takes a lot of time and effort to start them so for this you’d probably rather be at home where you don’t have the thousands of distractions from the bustling cities to the crystal clear waters to take you away from your work. 

Some people don’t want to work remotely at all which is fair enough, for them work and travel are two separate things that should not be mixed together. But for those who do there is:

– Online tutoring in anything from maths to languages to science to history at all learning levels and abilities. 

– Web design if you’re tech-savvy – people will pay good money to have their website designed and even run for them.

-A virtual assistant or virtual chat support – this one doesn’t require as many skills as some of the others. If you love speaking to people and helping them this could be for you and is something a few places employ for now. 

-Writing/blogging – For those of you with excellent writing skills you may be able to make money from blogging, publishing books, or even as a freelance journalist. This is a competitive game but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying. 

– Translating – if you can fluently speak or write in multiple languages why not show this off and use it to your advantage? I know I certainly would be! This is a very skilled position but it is something that can be done remotely.

-Proofreading/ copy writing – Again for those who are very skilled, there are people crying out for help doing these sorts of things. 

Most of these skills can be advertised on websites as well as your own personal websites and social media accounts. 

If you feel you lack certain skills for these jobs there is no need to worry. A lot of universities from around the world offer free online courses, or if you’re really dedicated you can even do an online degree with an Open University.

SET TARGETS

The best way to keep you on track whilst saving to travel is setting goals. Make these achievable and realistic. There is no way you can save 95% of your wages and get a job that pays $150 an hour right off the bat unless you’re very lucky. By setting goals that you can actually achieve it will keep you on track and it feels amazing when you actually hit these goals and targets, if you set ones you can’t achieve it will make you feel worse.

By setting goals you make improvements without even realizing it and it gives you a sense of purpose in life. 

 THAT’S IT, THAT’S ALL 

How you save your money is up to you and you only. How much you can afford to put away is also something only you can know or decide – maybe its more than me, maybe it’s less.  What I do know is that the tips and advice on here can be used by everyone to whatever extent they choose to use. 

    Make Travel Your Priority “The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.” Ever read one of those quotes and get that mixed feeling of adventure but also defeat? 2,362 more words

[viralhottopics]

Heres A Review Of Every Order I Made On Grubhub In 2016

1.

I vaguely remember justifying the purchase of Mozzarella Sticks because it was New Years? This was certainly a pivotal moment for me, because it’s when I first discovered the Pizza Fresca Buffalo Chicken Salad. The concept of this salad is brilliant, because to cover up the fact you are ordering shitty wilted-ass lettuce from a takeout joint, they smother the whole thing with cheese and buffalo sauce and it takes basically like your dad’s BBQ sandwich (not really). 8/10

2.

Here I am, just a few weeks later, returning to the Buffalo Chicken Salad. Having started my (failed) New Years Resolution, I ditched the mozo sticks this time. Unfortunately, Pizza Fresca has some arbitrary delivery minimum designed so that no reasonable order could efficiently reach it, so I had to buy two different drinks I didn’t really want.

Apparently the con totally worked. 6/10

3.

Oh look, it’s the same order again, from the exact same place? Was my life really this boring in 2016? Did I do anything of consequence or meaning? This article is really putting my life in perspective.

I actually had a really bad experience with this order, because the food never, ever actually came. So I called the restaurant, and immediately opened my mouth to start bitching about how hungry I was and how my lawyer friend named Brick (who looks over lease agreements I think?) would totally get me some pain and suffering $$$ out of this. Right before my tirade of began, however, the gentleman on the phone informed me that I had put down the incorrect cellnumber when I placed the order and that the delivery guy had spent the better part of 15 minutes trying to call me / knock on my door desperately.

I finally got the food, and considered whether I was smart enough to use this service any more. -2/10

4.

This order is remarkable because it was actually made at my friend’s place when I was hanging out with him, instead of in the dark solitude of my own room. The driver was really confused about where to go, however, and ended up in a parking lot across the street where I had to meet him. 3.5/10

5.

For like a hot second I managed to expand away from Pizza Fresca. I remember this tasting really good, but I think the place went out of business not long after? 9/10

6.

I remember only eating one of the mozzarella sticks because I felt so guilty after consuming the super greasy gyro salad. I think they were pretty good? 6/10

7.

Apparently, I finally decided it was time to shake it up with my Pizza Fresca order. I decided to merge pizza rolls with a Caesar salad. Interestingly, I actually gave this order a rating at the time (five stars). But I also remember feeling disappointed that I got the Caesar, so idk. 5/5 (apparently)

8.

Another order, another attempt to find something else to eat at Pizza Fresca. I think that the reason I keep ordering from here is that the delivery fee is so freaking low compared to other places. I’m pretty sure I was still unhappy with yet another non-buffalo chicken salad. 2.7548/10

9.

This was actually the first order I made via the Grubhub App. I was walking back from a 10 mile run with one of my best friends. In what has now become a broken ritual for us, we would run far beyond what our physical limits should be, switching back and forth between talking about the shit we would never dare to bring up in real life. As if we were both hoping that we could throw our pain out into the open air, andthen simply run past it.

This night while basically sprinting through downtown Columbus I talked about an old flame who had casually tried to slide back into my life. He had ghosted on me a months ago, and I had finally gotten over him, when he texted me and asked to “buy me coffee and apologize” for ghosting on me. I agreed, and we met later that week.

As it turns out, he didn’t buy me coffee, and he didn’t apologize. But after an hour of idle chatter, and sincere laughter, I felt good about rebuilding a connection. We made plans to reconnect before he left for his glamorous job in a glamorous city and I parted ways to nurse my hangover from the night before.

A few nights later, I was getting ready to go to bed when I got a “u up?” text from him. I couldn’t do this again, I wouldn’t do this again.

The food arrived to my house almost exactly as I got there. But I guess I had pushed myself too hard on our particular run that particular night, because after eating only one of the mozzarella sticks I threw up in my bathroom sink. 0/10

10.

After my graduation on May 6th, I had returned to my hometown where was no Grubhub until August. I made this order on my first day back, desperately trying to set up IKEA furniture in my new apartment because none of my straight friends were around to do it for me.

“Looking at your car and putting together furniture is why you have straight friends,” Marilyn Monroe (probably)

I was excited, because moving just one mile south from my old place had opened up almost a dozen new GrubHub establishments for me. I ordered a gyro platter, which to this day, is the only order I’ve ever made at the Happy Greek.

I hadn’t eaten all day, but even if I had, I’m sure it tasted good. It was new, it was exciting. 10/10

11.

I remember this order really vividly because three days later I was still being a lazy fuck and refusing to go to the store. I didn’t get the water bottle because I hate the earth, but because of the fucking order minimum for delivery. Damn you, King’s Pizza. 7/10

12.

I remember getting this delivery when everything was changing.

I was spending another year in my college town after graduating I had just settled in actually, and I had been so excited to go back. I was hoping that it would be an extension of my college experience. That I would have all the fun and excitement of college without the coursework and never-ending commitments.

Instead, I felt like I had my nose-pressed to the window of my previous life. Stuck, motionless, isolated. I was surrounded by friends many of whom I was quite close with but nothing quite felt the same.Now that I was outside the general flow of people’s rapid-paced lives, I started to realize that we were all too busy to hang out. And we would all stay too busy. 1/10

12.

I ordered this ona lazy Friday before Labor Day weekend. All my roommates were leaving town to go camping together, leaving me to an empty apartment. Apollo’s platter is decisively not as good as the Happy Greek’s, but it was a little cheaper and a shorter delivery time. Something about $18.25 feels much more indulgent than $12.65.

Later that night I was going to get a drink with a boy who I had met on a dating app.I had spent the past year waiting on a series of different guys to decide to give me a shot, and it had totally tanked my self-esteem and confidence.

My date was a few blocks away from me, so we decided to meet up and walk down to the bar together. I was nervous, but almost apathetic, ready to embrace the next bitter, dark, disappointment of my romantic life.

Instead, ashopped between bars and rooftop patios that night I stumbled into a man who made me want toditch my angsty #ForeverSingle facade perhaps forever. 10/10

13.

I ordered this after getting back from the gym and being too lazy to cook. I think I really like Greek food. 7/10

14.

I’m actually amazed that I didn’t order anything from GrubHub for almost a month.

I was still talking to the guy I had met Labor Day weekend, as a matter of fact, I was now calling him my boyfriend. He had just gotten a “cannot refuse” job offer across the country, and I was picking away at my Gyro while texting him and watching .

We were going to stay together. I should’ve felt scared, but I didn’t.I felt like the greater improbability was me finding someone I loved, not having that love survive across 2,000 miles. 9/10

15.

I got this for lunch after my boyfriend had left town for the last time before heading out to his new job in a new city in a new timezone.

We had spent the entire day together before. Going to various mall stores and looking at expensive furniture that cost more than my entire hometown (probably). As we fell asleep together that night, I felt a quiet sense of calm and contentment that I cannot recall every feeling before.

The pizza itself could have used a little more sauce, but otherwise not bad. 8/10.

Read more: http://tcat.tc/2iS2ijZ

from Heres A Review Of Every Order I Made On Grubhub In 2016