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zepskies · 2 months

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Take Me Home - Part 3

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from.

AN: I’m being continuously blown away by your lovely responses on this story. Thank you so much! I truly appreciate all the love for our cowboy sheriff and where TMH is going.

Word Count: 6.6K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, a heart-to-heart, flirtations, and invitations taken…

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 3: Welcome Home

In the next twenty-four hours after Mary was found, the police’s investigation led them to a man named Walter. He’d been living in the woods, and was suspected of stalking the camp for days.

He was arrested as a prime suspect in Mary’s murder at Sunny Day Excursions, along with Paige’s; even though they’d yet to find her body, the police did confirm that she'd never made it home to New York.

They also found Luke later that night. His body was pierced to a tree by an archer’s arrow.

The campers were sent home shortly after Walter was arrested.

And three days later, your aunt Denise gingerly took a seat on the edge of the couch you’d been lying in all day (and all week so far). She swept her fingers over your greasy hair in both comfort and affection.

Denise Brisbane was your mom’s sister. She was a private investigator here in Helena. And as you found out, she actually worked with Cassie Dewell, the woman you’d met at the camp, who was still in search of a missing backpacker.

“You’ve barely moved in days, honey,” Denise said.

Her face was sympathetic and sad, watching you. Though you felt the sting of guilt, feeling like a burden that had just been unloaded on your aunt, you didn’t want to leave your warm blankets. Your body felt heavy and useless.

“Good news though. The rest of your stuff ships in tomorrow,” she said, continuing to pet your hair. “I’ll help you move into your new apartment. How does that sound?”

You gave a weak nod. “Thanks.”

She sighed. “I’m not trying to kick you out, hun. I just think it’ll be good for you to start getting on your feet.”

You agreed, wordlessly. In your head, you knew she was right. You couldn’t sleep on her couch forever, and perhaps more importantly, you couldn’t let this beat you down forever.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Denise asked, squeezing your shoulder. “Your mom wanted to get the first flight out here, but I told her I’d take care of you until you go home for the funeral.”

You were grateful for that. As much as you loved your mother, you didn’t want to be smothered right now. Your mom’s version of comfort could only include a heavy dose of smothering. The one thing you had been able to do was call Mary’s parents.

That had been a long and painful conversation. After which, you slept like the dead for two days straight.

Denise broke you out of your wandering thoughts when she handed you a business card. It had a banyan tree emblazoned on it, along with the name of a grief counseling center.

“Cassie’s actually been going here, and she’s liked it so far,” she said.

At your furrowed look of confusion, she added, “Look, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk to me, but I think it would be good for you to talk to someone. Maybe someone who understands what you’re going through.”

You sighed and flipped the card through your fingers. You really, really didn’t want to go. You could already what your father would say if he knew you went to a grief counselor. His form of “therapy” was the growing collection of bourbon behind his desk.

But if it meant you’d stop being a lump in your aunt’s living room, then maybe you could give it a shot.

“Okay,” you nodded. Your voice was a bit coarse with disuse. Denise gave you a smile, and a warm hug that felt like home. She even offered to make your appointment for you.

You were a little annoyed though. Now you’d have to actually get up and put on a bra.

“Maybe shower first, huh?” she advised, while she helped you get up.

“Yeah, yeah,” you replied.

A hot shower, washing and styling your hair, putting real clothes on, and overall making yourself presentable actually made you feel human again. You even surprised yourself by putting on a bit of makeup.

Once you made it to the grief counseling center in your car, however, you sat in the parking lot for a minute. You had to take a moment to breathe. Because you knew you were going to be asked what happened. You were going to have to get into it all over again.

Even after you were able to leave your car and brave through the carpeted halls of the building, your hands were shaking. At the reception desk, an older woman directed you down another long hallway to the group session. It was the only one available on short notice, but she promised that if you found the session helpful, she could help you book another group session, or even a solo session.

You weren’t sure if you were ready for “solo,” but a group appealed to you. Maybe you could just sit in the back and let the others talk.

The counselor, Tom, greeted you when you walked into the right room. It was a small room with a bunch of chairs formed in a circle at the center. No room to hide, you thought with growing unease. You glanced over and saw that there were a few people already milling about, making small talk in a cluster near the circle.

“We’re gonna start here in a few minutes, but until then, you can take a seat,” said Tom. “There’s also coffee and cookies over there, if you like.”

Coffee. Coffee was warm, and it might settle your nerves and help you perk up a bit. You thanked him and went for the carafes on a small table in the back. You poured some coffee into a Styrofoam cup and poured a little sugar and creamer into it, but after you took an experimental sip, you immediately regretted it.

Tastes like damn soil water! You made a grossed out sound and spat it back into your cup.

“Yeah, wouldn’t recommend the joe,” drawled a familiar voice.

You turned sharply to find Sheriff Beau Arlen. He gave you a sympathetic look as he reached for a cup of water. Seeing him took you by such surprise, you gasped with a slight flinch, accidentally spilling some scalding coffee on yourself in the process.

You held the cup away from you fast, but a few drops still flecked on your jeans, and even his boots.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you gasped again. Beau just smiled good-naturedly and grabbed a few napkins off the table.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I’m the one who snuck up on you. Accidentally, I might add.”

He handed you the napkins so you could soak up the coffee from your hand and arm. Meanwhile, he took your half-empty coffee cup and tossed it in the garbage. Your damp wad of napkins joined the cup.

And when you finally looked up at him again, you both found yourselves smiling, despite where you were. It was the first time you’d been able to smile in days.

“Sheriff Arlen,” you greeted. “I did not expect to see you here…”

His smile faltered at that, but his hand reached back to sort through his short hair at the back of his head.

“Ah, call me Beau,” he said. “I have a feeling we’re about to get to know each other better.”

You agreed to that, just as you agreed to join him for a seat within the circle of chairs. He leaned back in his chair and swept a hand through his hair again, perhaps in a nervous gesture. You glanced over at him, saw the way he smoothed a hand down his jeans when his knee started bouncing…

Could he be as anxious as you? You had to wonder why he was here, for grief counseling of all things. The thought sobered you as more people filtered in and took their seats. Tom eventually got things started from his spot across from you in the circle.

“Okay, we’ve got a couple of first timers to this group session, so tell you what,” he said. “Let’s go around, introduce ourselves, and share something interesting. Whether it’s what you do for a living, a new hobby you picked up, or keeping it even more simple, something fun you did this week.”

You looked down at the folded hands in your lap. If binge watching entire seasons of Succession and sleeping until noon every day counted as something fun, then you were all set.

The introductions started to his left, so it took a while before it got around to you. There was that little flutter of nerves in your stomach, like you were a kid again, and it was the first day of school (but worse).

Luckily, Beau was before you. You were curious about what he would share as he let out a subtle clearing of his throat.

“Hi there, I’m Beau Arlen. Some of you know me as the new sheriff over at Helena PD.” He greeted everyone with a short wave, though he tossed you a smiling glance. “You might also be able to tell that I’m from Texas. Born and bred in Houston. I moved up here to stay close to my daughter, who’s living here with her mother…my ex-wife.”

He tacked on that last bit after a slight pause. But he recovered quicker than you could process and gestured to you next. You forced yourself to perk up, putting your “teacher’s hat” on as you tried to meet everyone’s eyes. First, you gave them your name.

“I’m also from out of town, from Chicago,” you said, glancing at Beau. His expression was encouraging. It gave you the small boost you didn’t know you needed. “I’m a college professor, formerly of the University of Chicago…but I start at Caroll College in the fall.”

Beau’s brows rose as his lips twitched upwards. You tried not to blush as you passed on the introductions to the next person.

The session itself was light overall. Tom talked about the stress that often came with the unknown—with moving past a challenging time, or tackling a new project, or even moving to a new and unfamiliar city. He didn’t force everyone to chime in about themselves, but the ones who were ready to share took the floor one by one. And by the end, you thought that you’d gleaned some useful tidbits just by listening.

Hell, maybe you’d even come back here.

When the session was over though, you were kind of relieved. You grabbed your purse and got up to leave.

“Well, that was relatively painless,” Beau said, also getting up from his seat.

“Yeah, wasn’t so bad,” you replied. Your name fell from his lips in the form of a question, earning your expectant gaze.

“Listen, uh, can I buy you a real cup of coffee?” he offered. “We might not have met under the best of circumstances, but I just heard recently that you’re Denise’s niece. Well, I’m friends with the gals over at Dewell & Hoyt, your aunt included, so I just thought it’d be good to get to know each other, being that we’re both kinda new in town, and—”

You set a light hand on his arm. That one touch was able to stop his rambling, along with the sight of your amused smile up at him.

“Coffee sounds great,” you said.

You decided there was no real harm in meeting him at the nearest coffee shop, just a few minutes away.

It was hard not to associate the sheriff with that terrible night at the camp, but you knew that wasn’t fair to him. He seemed like a nice guy, and by the way he talked about his daughter, maybe even a good man.

In your experience, a good man was hard to find.

“So, what do you teach exactly?” Beau asked. He’d just finished telling you about Emily starting a summer internship with Cassie and Denise at the private investigation agency. Like father like daughter, you’d remarked. Beau’s soft, but proud smile had been telling.

“English literature,” you replied to his question, sipping at your cappuccino. He was drinking a hot French vanilla latte, which kind of amused you. You had expected him to order an Americano or something.

“Oh, yeah? What sort of classes?” he said.

“The greatest hits, basically,” you explained. “Composition, English grammar, Shakespeare…Twentieth Century British Literature.”

“Oh, is that all?” he chuckled. It charmed a smile out of you.

“I don’t know why I asked. I didn’t even go to college,” Beau said. It finally succeeded in making you laugh.

“Straight to the police academy, then?” you asked.

“Like a cannonball, heels a blazin’,” he said, miming a gunshot with his hand.

“Like a rhinestone cowboy,” you teased. And you felt brave enough to hum the riff of the Glen Campbell song.

Beau shook his head with a grin. He’d seen you, all tightened up and anxious throughout the group session, even though it had been pretty lightweight. He could relate to your discomfort. He’d made a conscious effort to talk very little about himself and gave the others the room to tell their stories.

Beau liked seeing you more relaxed though. He liked your smile, the glimpses of your sense of humor shining through. He liked that he was somehow able to bring that out of you for a while.

“I still can’t believe you're Denise’s niece,” he said, once again shaking his head. “What a small world.”

“Yeah. I’ve been crashing on her couch for the past week,” you admitted. “But I have the rest of summer to settle into my new apartment, starting tomorrow. I’ve got my whole life shipping in on a truck.”

Beau nodded at that. He contemplated whether it’d be appropriate for him to offer you some help with that. The question was on the tip of his tongue, until he saw the way your mood saddened. You sat contemplating your coffee mug.

“I asked her to come,” you confessed. When your eyes met his, they shone with the beginning of unshed tears. “The camping trip was Mary’s idea, but I asked her to come with me to Helena for the week. She wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.”

Beau let out a deep breath and met you with a more somber, understanding gaze.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said. He was reminded that they had Walter in custody. He wasn’t yet willing to break and confess to the murders at Sunny Day Excursions, but they had him.

“I promise, we’ll get justice for Mary,” Beau added. You sighed and wiped a tear from your cheek.

“Do you think you have the right man?” you asked, speaking of Walter.

“I do,” Beau replied. “He’s being stubborn, but all the evidence points to him.”

You nodded gratefully, but you had to try and breathe through your tumultuous emotions, the way your heart was cracking with pain. You didn’t want to break down in the middle of a damn coffee shop.

Again, Beau wrestled with the inclination to cover his hand over yours. He felt like he was toeing the line between his professional capacity as a sheriff, and the fact that you were his friend’s niece. He wanted to comfort you the best he could. But sometimes, words just weren’t enough.

You took a half-hearted sip of your coffee. By now, it was lukewarm, if still tasty and sweet. It was healthier than whiskey, you supposed.

“She was like…like my sister, you know?” you said. “I feel like I failed her.”

Beau shook his head, his dark brows furrowing. He didn’t know how many times he could say it wasn’t your fault, knowing you probably wouldn’t ever believe it.

That struck a familiar bell.

“Look, I uh…I understand what you’re going through,” he admitted. Your watery gaze found his again. Your head tilted in interest.

He sighed before answering your unspoken question. “I lost my partner on the job, now a couple years back.”

“I’m sorry,” you replied, and your sympathy was as genuine as his had been for you. “I’m guessing you two were close.”

Beau’s lips quirked at one corner. “He was like my brother. Matter of fact, I think it used to make my own brother jealous.”

You processed that with a sad frown, though your brows soon rose in curiosity.

“You have a brother?”

“Yep,” Beau nodded. The brief shadows in his eyes lifted at the merciful change of topic. “Good ole’ David. I still call him Davey, even though he hates it.”

A smile played on your lips. “Older or younger?”

“Younger, by a few years,” he replied. There was a more natural gleam to his smile then. “He’s a hotshot doctor back in Houston.”

He teased, but you could see there was pride behind his eyes. It reminded you of the way he got whenever he talked about Emily.

“So you know my story. What brought you to Montana?” he asked. He wanted to see if he could help you get your mind off Mary. He didn’t know that he’d just pulled the pin on a whole other grenade.

You let out a wry chuckle.

“Uh, oh,” Beau said warily.

You nodded. He did tell you his story—ex-wife with a new husband, daughter, a new job in Montana—though you still didn’t know why he was going to grief counseling. If it was because of his partner, you could understand that…but you also didn’t want to pry.

You also knew it was only fair to answer his question.

“It’s not exactly like your situation but…I was engaged,” you said at last.

Past tense, he noted.

“Good guy?” he asked.

“A firefighter,” you replied. Though you knew well the rivalry that sometimes existed between cops and firefighters. Beau’s growing bemusement told you he was thinking along the same lines.

“Ah, a smoke eater, huh?” But his smile faded. “Did something happen to him on the job?”

“No,” you said, again with that weary chuckle. It was hard for you to get this out, but you’d been wrestling with it for over six months, damn near a year. It was enough.

“Just a couple months before the wedding, I found out he’d been cheating on me with his college girlfriend…pretty much throughout our whole relationship,” you said.

Though you promised yourself that you’d never cry over this again, today had already been incredibly difficult. The tears came, and you couldn’t stop them.

Beau's brows had risen high in surprise. Then, a deeper sympathy settled in his eyes.

“Jesus. How long?” he asked.

“We were together three years, engaged for about another one,” you said. “Almost four years of my life, just…”

You mimed a puff of smoke blowing out of your hand.

“Yeah. I know the feeling,” Beau said. His tone was wry as he dragged a hand over his beard. You gave him an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry. I know my story doesn’t compare with a marriage,” you said.

“That’s not what I was gettin’ at,” he replied. “But I get it. You start to think, what the hell was it all for? …Except for my daughter.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately, I don’t have an Emily,” you said. At the same time though, you were very glad you never had kids with that man.

Beau frowned when he saw the way your face fell further, becoming distant, and lost in old memories.

“Afterwards, I…I checked out, you know? I could barely focus on my students, my family, my friends.” Your nails drummed on the countertop. You shook your head as it all filtered through your mind again. “But the last straw was that my dad tried to get me to work things out with him, and I just…I lost it. Beau, I absolutely lost my shit.”

Beau grimaced. “What made your dad think that would work?”

“He’s a retired firehouse chief,” you said, with a purse of your lips. “He’s always had a soft spot for Michael.”

“Michael, huh?” Beau quirked a brow. “That come with a last name?”

You shot him a look of amusement.

“What, are you going to run his LUDS?” you joked, but you couldn’t prevent a sniffle as a new wave of emotion threatened an upswell.

You felt pathetic. This man was the whole-ass sheriff of this town. He probably had more important things to do than listen to you complain about your imploded relationship. But you were also Denise’s niece. Maybe he just felt sorry for you.

He offered you a napkin. “Sorry it’s not a tissue.”

In his eyes though, you didn’t see pity. Just kindness.

“It’s okay. I can brave a scratchy napkin,” you said, laughing a little. “But after that, I knew one of two things was going to happen. Either I was going to break open my dad’s gun safe and shoot the bastard in the ass, or I had to get the hell out of Chicago. My mom and Aunt Denise suggested I come here for a visit, just to clear my head. That turned into scoping out jobs, and then apartments… Now I’m here.”

That fell between you for a moment as your companion processed it all. In hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have mentioned that whole bit about possibly shooting your ex, but he took it in stride.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you are,” Beau said. “Here, that is.”

You couldn’t help but blush; at his words, the deep green of his eyes, and the sincerity of his smile.

“Likewise, Sheriff,” you said.

He smirked. “Also glad you didn’t go shootin’ people in the ass.”

You covered your face and laughed.

Beau walked you to your car like the gentleman he was, even though it was only late afternoon. You opened the driver’s side door, but you lingered there. You turned back to him, curling a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Thanks for the coffee, and for letting me ramble, and vent, and soak up a few dozen napkins,” you said. You laughed a little in embarrassment, but he waved it off.

“It wasn’t as bad as all that, but good luck movin’ into your apartment tomorrow,” he said. Then it was his turn to hesitate. “If you need some help with that, just let me know.”

You blinked, mouth parting in soft surprise.

“Oh, thank you but…I don’t want to trouble you,” you said.

“You wouldn’t be. That’s why I offered,” he replied, smiling down at you in a way that had you melting a little bit more. “I’ve got an early shift tomorrow, but after, I could probably pull in Cassie. Maybe even Jenny, if she’s up for it. She’s one of our deputies at the PD.”

Beau recognized your hesitance.

“It wouldn’t be any trouble, I promise,” he said, holding a hand over his heart. “We’ve gotta welcome you to the neighborhood, don’t we?”

You were still a little unsure, but you agreed to it with a thank you, along with a more shy, sweet smile.

Beau liked that smile too.

Later that day, Beau remembered it was his turn to host the ritual movie night Friday with Cassie and Jenny. His trailer was too small to have it inside, so they set up Cassie’s projector out in front, by the fire. According to his friends, he was going about the night with too much cheer.

“You’re entirely too smiley to have just come from an afternoon of therapy,” Jenny pointed out. She uncapped her second beer, then passed him the bucket. He waved her off; he was still nursing his first beer of the night. If he stuck to his plan, then it’d be his only beer of the night.

“Aw, it wasn’t so bad, actually,” he said. He explained that you had been there at the group session. The moment your name was mentioned, Cassie and Jenny both raised their brows.

“Really?” Cassie remarked.

“Yeah. Losing her friend really shook her up. Understandably,” Beau said. His gaze lowered when he played through his afternoon with you in his mind. Though your situations were different, both in your lost friends and lost relationships, he realized just how much he’d understood and connected with a near stranger.

That kind of thing didn’t happen to him often, if ever before.

“But, she’s actually moving into her new place tomorrow,” he added, breaking himself out of his own head. “Speakin’ of, would you two have the time to help her and Denise out? I already said I would come by after shift tomorrow.”

Cassie and Jenny shared a certain look—the kind these women donned when they were having a private conversation with just their eyes. This time, it seemed to be about him.

“What?” he asked, his hands spreading wide.

“Nothing,” Cassie said, smiling. “Sure, I can come.”

“Yeah,” Jenny agreed, “barring nothing too crazy happens on shift.”

Beau inclined his head. “Knock on wood there. Anyway, what’re we watching?”

“Crazy, Stupid Love,” Jenny grinned, holding up the DVD cover. “For Ryan Gosling, of course.”

Beau rolled his eyes.

A few months ago, he wouldn’t have expected that he’d make friends with exclusively women in this town, but he only complained about it in times like these.

Though as it turned out, he enjoyed the movie. There were as many hilarious scenes as there were poignant ones. By the end of the night though, he was beat.

Jenny helped with the cleanup, but she ended up taking off first. It left Beau to put away the fold-up chairs with Cassie.

“So, tell me,” she said, in a leading tone and with a teasing smile. “You crushing on Glamper Girl for real now?”

Beau shot her a wry look.

“She’s not a glamper anymore,” he pointed out. “And I’m not crushing like some teenager. I just want to help her out. She’s been through a lot…and she’s Denise’s family. It’s just the right thing to do.”

Cassie laughed. “That’s a lot of over-explaining you’re doing right there, but okay, Beau.”

He rolled his eyes, but he had to smile. “Okay, that’s it. I’m gonna have to insist you get off my property.”

“Off what, your tin can?” she retorted.

“Hey! She can hear you.”

Beau wiped the sweat from his brow strategically while he carried his end (the heavier end, he might add) of your couch. He and Jenny were trying to get it up the stairwell to your apartment on the second floor.

“Okay now, just pivot on this corner,” he instructed. “Pivot!”

Jenny nearly dropped her end out of sheer aggravation. Her blue eyes cut down to his.

“If you say pivot one more time, I’m gonna shoot you,” she snapped.

Beau whistled in amusement. “Threatening to shoot the sheriff. Now that’s at least a misdemeanor.”

Right as he could almost see the fumes coming out of his deputy’s ears, you hustled up the stairs to help them. You picked up the middle to make it easier.

“Okay, we can do this! I think we can just tip it on its side to get it around the corner,” you said.

To everyone’s relief, your suggestion worked. Denise held the door open while the three of you got the couch up to the second floor, then into your apartment. Once the couch was successfully in the living room, you went to the kitchen and grabbed a few bottles of water out of the fridge. You handed one each to Beau and Jenny.

“Thank you guys again so much for doing this,” you said, still catching your breath. You surveyed all the boxes and furniture you all had brought in, and you realized you were crazy to think you and Denise could’ve done all of this by yourselves.

“It’s our pleasure,” Beau nodded. He gestured to his sweating face and neck. “But do you have a towel or a rag or something? You’re about to be mopping me off the floor in a minute.”

“Yeah, of course. Hold on,” you said. You went back into the kitchen and retrieved a clean hand towel. Beau used it to dry his face, neck, and the top of his chest.

You tried not to stare at the flash of tan skin near the collar of his plain gray shirt, or the wet spots clinging to his back. The sleeves were tight around his arms and across his chest, leading you to believe that despite being in his mid-forties, he kept himself in shape.

Meanwhile, Jenny drank her water, and pretended not to notice you staring at her boss. Part of her was amused, but a good part of her felt an unfamiliar sting as well.

“Okay,” Beau clapped a hand on his jean-clad thigh after he drained his own water bottle. “What’s next?”

Your face warmed, because you knew what your aunt was about to say before she said it.

“Oh, I think it’s just your bed, right honey?” she asked you.

“All right, let’s do it. Frame, headboard, box spring, and mattress, I assume,” Beau said, rubbing his sweaty hands together. He stretched his arms in preparation.

Again, you had to admire the way his shirt pulled across his tall, broad frame. But you followed after him when he started heading out the door.

“Wait, you shouldn’t do it by yourself!” you called out, and quickly followed after him.

Denise shot Jenny and Cassie a highly amused look.

“That's what she saaaid,” Denise sing-songed. The other two women grimaced.

“Wow. That’s your niece!” Cassie exclaimed.

“And technically my boss, thanks,” Jenny added.

“What, they’re cute, aren’t they?” Denise said, gesturing at the way you and Beau left.

“This from the woman who’s been lusting after that man since the minute he got into town,” Cassie retorted.

“Well, I’m woman enough to bow out when I’ve been thwarted. By my own blood no less,” Denise replied, but her mischievous smile said it all as she breezed back into the kitchen to start unpacking the silverware for you.

She knew for a fact that you’d made dinner for later—and not just because she’d told you how much Beau liked lasagna.

Beau accepted your help, along with Cassie and Jenny’s in bringing up all the parts of your bed. He just insisted on utilizing his own power tools to put it together.

That was how you found yourself holding the headboard up straight while Beau made sure the frame was aligned. It wasn’t as easy as it looked; the wood panels had to slide into the notch in the headboard just so, before he could start drilling the bolts back in.

“Damn it,” he muttered, when one panel of the frame nearly slipped out of his hand.

“Can you actually use that power drill?” Cassie asked. “Because you’re pretty hopeless with cars.”

Beau rolled his eyes, despite his smile. “Save the belittling for later. Tryin’ to concentrate.”

After a few more minutes of sweating, mild cursing, and internal praying, you, Beau, and Cassie managed to get the bedframe put together with the headboard. Then the box spring, and finally the mattress. It marked the official end of moving in.

While Beau, Cassie, and Jenny took a much-deserved rest sitting on the couch with a round of beers, you went to the kitchen where your aunt had already preheated the oven for you. Now you just needed to pull out the two massive pans of lasagna you’d prepared the night before—as a thank you for everyone who came to help you.

Denise sidled up to you and touched your arm to get your attention.

“Good job inviting our dear Beau to lift furniture for us,” she whispered, waggling her brows. You shot her a look and shushed her.

“Do you always flirt with him like this?” you asked incredulously.

“Well, I might have to do it less blatantly if he’s gonna keep playing Mr. White Knight for you,” she teased.

“He is not. He’s just…nice,” you whispered back. “So are Cassie and Jenny.”

Denise gave you an amused look. “Mhmm.”

You rolled your eyes and focused on getting dinner ready.

Within the hour, the five of you were sat at your new modest dining table between the kitchen and the living room, eating lasagna and drinking iced tea. Jenny and Beau had beers alongside them, and conversation drifted from how you intended to set up the apartment, to Cassie’s still open missing backpacker case.

The parents were even more worried now, saying it was out of character for him not to check in with a phone call, despite the email he’d apparently sent them a few days ago. Beau had agreed to give Cassie whatever help she needed on the periphery, especially if further evidence revealed itself on the backpacker’s whereabouts.

Beau was already on his second helping of lasagna when he raised his gaze to you, right across from him at the table.

“Clearly you get your cooking skills from your aunt, because this is fantastic,” he said.

Denise twittered. You blushed a little as you smiled.

“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

There was a short lull, filled by the tapping of silverware on plates, before Denise spoke up.

“By the way,” she said, looking to you and Beau. “Did you two have a productive time at grief counseling? What did you talk about?”

It was a well-meaning, but perhaps intrusive question. Both you and Beau tensed up. Cassie gave Denise a warning look.

“Oh, I’m sorry. You guys don’t have to answer that,” Denise amended.

“Um, it’s okay,” you replied. “It wasn’t too bad…I think I might go again.”

Beau had a warmer smile for you. “That’s good.”

You were able to return his smile. You turned to Cassie next.

“You went there for a while, right?” you asked. Cassie nodded.

“It was helpful,” she said. “I’m glad you’re getting something out of it.”

You took that with a nod, and returned your gaze to Beau.

“Have you been going there long?” you asked him.

He tilted his head. “Actually, yesterday was my first time too.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, really?”

Cassie was intrigued at the way this little scene was playing out. Thought she caught the look on Jenny’s face while she watched it too. Like Jenny was studying them, not sure what to make of it all.

Beau wore a self-deprecating smile.

“Yeah. Just…hadn’t gotten around to it,” he answered you.

There was a heaviness in his voice and in his eyes that you didn’t miss, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable in a room full of people, even if they were his friends.

“Well, I’ll go again if you do,” you offered, a bit bolder than you felt. Beau met your eyes across the table, and his lips lifted at the corners.

“All right,” he said. “You got yourself a deal, miss ma’am.”

You fought against a blush rising up your neck. You glanced down and took a sip of your iced tea.

“Look at you. Pulling out your ‘sheriff’ voice,” Cassie teased.

“Like a rhinestone cowboy…” you sang into your glass. Your smile peeked out around the corners of it.

Most of the table laughed. Jenny smiled, but opted for drinking her beer.

Meanwhile, Beau gave you a mock look of betrayal. His true amusement shone through his eyes.

“I see how this is. Gang up on the Texan time,” he remarked.

That gave Cassie an opening to ask you something, and hopefully get to know you better. Already she had an instinct about you: she liked you. And clearly Beau seemed to as well. Cassie tended to be more cautious about people, even if you were Denise’s family.

“So how are you liking the Midwest so far?” Cassie asked you.

“So far? It’s the fresh air I needed,” you replied.

“Oh, you should check out that art studio you wanted to see,” Denise chimed in.

“You’re an artist too?” Beau asked, raising a brow. You chuckled.

“No, just an amateur with a handful of brushes,” you replied.

You remembered the peace you’d gotten while painting in sight of the mountains. But when you got to Denise’s house, you’d hidden away those canvases, not wanting to be reminded of that week at Sunny Day Excursions. And of Mary.

“Oh, but have you gone horseback riding yet?” Denise asked. “I know you were gonna try on your camping trip—”

You loved your aunt. You really did, but she also had a knack for putting her foot in her mouth. The others quieted as you dimmed at the actual mention of that God-forsaken place.

“I tried,” you said. “I never actually managed to make it on the horse.”

“Aw, well if you ever want to go, there’s a stable in town. They give lessons too,” Denise said.

You nodded and forced a smile. You went back to picking at the remnants of lasagna and salad on your plate.

When everyone began to filter out of your new apartment, each with their own set of well-wishing and a container of leftovers to take home, Beau ended up being last to leave. You had followed him to the door, where you handed him his tupperware of leftovers, and he thanked you in appreciation.

“Now I just need a microwave,” he said. “My toaster oven’s been on the fritz.”

Your brows rose in amusement. “You have a toaster oven, but not a microwave?”

“Well, let’s just say my trailer doesn’t exactly have a whole lot of space for appliances,” Beau replied, chuckling.

You smiled at that. You hesitated, but you eventually touched his hand that held the tupperware.

“Thank you again for coming here, for helping me…and for yesterday,” you said.

Beau almost didn’t realize it, but his face was getting warm. As warm as your pretty smile.

“Well, you’re very welcome,” he said. “And just puttin’ it out there, I may or may not have been riding a horse before I could walk. First memory I have is my dad putting me on Old Bess when I was four. She nearly kicked me off…not that that would happen to you. I’m just saying—”

“I see.” Your giggle ended with a smirk. Beau tended to ramble. You weren’t sure if it was a nervous tick, or just a facet of his upbeat personality…but you found it endearing.

He leveled you with a grin. “Listen, what I mean to say is, if you’re serious about wanting to learn how to ride, I could teach you. It’s not that hard.”

You bit your lip, mentally beginning to weigh out the pros and cons. To be honest, you still had reservations, both on riding a horse, and on Beau being the one to teach you. Was he just being nice, your “friendly neighborhood sheriff,” or was your aunt onto something?

…You weren’t sure, but your instincts told you that at the very least, you could trust him with this. And trust had become hard for you to give any man.

“Okay, cowboy. Let’s ride,” you said. And you even surprised yourself with the flirtatious note in your voice.

Beau’s grin kicked up a notch. You then exchanged numbers so you could hash out the details of when and where to meet sometime soon. Hopefully soon.

Then you wished him a good night.

“G’night, darlin’,” he said. He lingered in the hallway for a parting grin. “And welcome home.”

Your answering smile warmed him, long after he left your door.

AN: *rubs hands together* We're really getting into it now. 😂 Finally we have the big reveal of why she left Chicago, and the start of her and Beau's bond. You'll see more of that, and of Emily, in the next chapter...

Next Time:

You gasped and gripped even tighter with your thighs. With almost everything you had.

You were still far too unsteady for comfort on this damn horse. The poor animal whinnied, tossing his head back with a huff. Unfortunately, that just made you tense up even more as you held onto his neck.

Beau tried not to laugh. You looked like a cat clinging to the edge of a bath.

“Okay, you needa relax a little,” he said. “He ain’t gonna buck you, long as you don’t give him a reason to.”

You shot him a narrowed look.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 4

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

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Amilia and Jake are just so cute in the beginning. I love them. But it hurts to know how messed up they get.

For me, Amilia is my comfort character. You guys get the reader. I get Amilia

Side Series to Terms of Endearment

Terms of Endearment // Jake Seresin

Tattoos & Broken Hearts //

For what it was worth—Amilia didn’t know how to feel when she came face to face with her ex in the waiting area of her place of employment on the Mid-North Coast of New South Wales. It was a shock to the system she’d been clawing her way back to the surface to protect. Jake Seresin was a long way away from Fightertown.

Amilia had been bedridden for weeks, depressed beyond belief. She knew her worth and she knew her value but fuck Jake had really done a number on her. It probably didn’t help that she left Australia in search of something more—that more turned out to be Jake. As she stood before Jake in the waiting room of the gym, Amilia knew that in hindsight, placing all her value and all her worth on the shoulders of one man probably wasn’t her best decision in life. She should have just gone to the Queen Mary like she wanted to—in search of a good ghost scare. But no—she shacked up with Hangman.

Who, shockingly, left her hanging.

“I know I fucked up—but please just let me talk?” Jake had been a broken record ever since that moment where Amilia learnt the fate of what happened to Jake’s wife. She’d been annulled. But there was something inside her that was telling her not to give him the time of day.

He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve her and Amilia was absolutely adamant that she deserved a hell of a lot better than Jake. It didn’t matter if she had his stupid callsign tattooed on his hip, she was getting it removed. It didn’t matter if she still loved him. She wasn’t good enough for him, that’s why he married someone who was.

Right?

“Yeah—no something tells me that if I let you talk I’ll listen and I’m not sure if I’m stable enough to deal with whatever repercussions come with that.” Amilia laughed at herself as she walked to the front desk, Jake trailed behind her like a lost puppy as all her coworkers on reception watched on like they were the first viewers of a new reality TV series. Starring Amilia herself and the American Psycho.

“Amilia please, I just need to talk with you—“ As she put the keys back to the sound system in the cupboard at reception, Amilia cracked it at the man who broke her heart. She loved him still—oh so much, but she wasn’t a second choice. “I’m here, I came all this way to see you and—“

“I don’t wanna talk, Jake!” She raised her voice loud enough that the people on the nearby treadmills turned their attention away from their workout to the fuss going on at reception. “I’m sorry you came all this way but I don’t owe you anything.”

“Oz—“ Jake pleaded, but it only fell on deaf ears.

“Don’t call me that!” Again she raised her voice a little louder than she should have. Amilia felt all eyes on her as she ran her hand through her sweaty hair. Just fresh from teaching a class. “It wasn’t commitment you were afraid of it was just doing it with me that scared you—and don’t stand here and lie to me Seresin because you got hitched!” Jake watched as Amilia fixed her gym bag over her shoulder and tried to keep herself together. She turned to her colleague and faked a phony smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow Michelle, sorry about Flyboy here he must have left his manners at customs.”

“Amilia—“ Jake was on her tail, following her out the automatic doors that swung open at the sight of people. “All I’m asking for is five minutes—“

“Four hours south will get you back to Sydney and seven and a half hours north will get you to Brisbane CBD—but you aren’t staying here, not in my hometown where I live and work and people know me.” It was beginning to dawn on Jake that he may have flown all this way for nothing, perhaps there was nothing left to salvage, no love left to reclaim. But he wasn’t about to let Amilia Fisher slip through his fingers again.

“I already booked a hotel.” Jake had begun to slow down, he placed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and came to a standstill as Amilia kept walking. She didn’t even turn around to see if Jake was still following her or not. But after a few seconds of regulating his breathing—Jake pressed on and met up with the only love he ever knew as she placed her gym gear into the boot of her car.

“You’re right you know—“ Jake sighed as he waited for Amilia to slam his fingers into the groove of her two thousand and eighteen Honda Accord. But she didn’t. She just stood there with the saddest eyes Jake had ever seen and a quivering bottom lip. He could see she was shaking just by the way her hand trembled around the clasp on the boot. “You don’t owe me a single thing.”

“I loved you—“ Was all Amilia could muster the courage to say.

“I loved you too, I still do.” Jake replied with enough conviction in his tone that for a split moment Amilia could have believed him. But how could she when Jake let her go so easily just to turn around and marry someone else. “I came here to see you, I needed to see you just to tell you how sorry I am for messing this, us, up.”

“Well I’m glad you got to get that off your chest.” Amilia pressed her lips together in a tight line as she pushed your hand against Jake's sternum to will him away from her car. He moved with ease because he wasn’t about to stop her from leaving. “Go home, Flyboy, just go home and leave me the hell alone.”

“I’m here on an extended leave of absence.” In a last stitch effort to get Amilia to listen, Jake told her the truth. “I couldn’t focus at work because you were all I could think about day in and day out and I was grounded. Until I can sort my shit out I’m on a leave of absence.” He sighed as he watched Amilia clip in her seatbelt and start up her car. She hadn’t shit the door yet. Jake lowered himself down, resting his hands on his knees.

“You are so not going to put that you couldn’t pull yourself together enough to do your job on me.” Amilia scoffed out loud. That wasn’t fair. “I had to drag myself out of bed, me, I showed up for me Jake, so show up for yourself.” He could hear it in her voice how hurt Amilia truly was.

“I never meant to hurt you Ozzie—and I’m sorry, I just wanna talk.”

Amilia didn’t respond straight away, she simply sat there wondering if she’d ever get over the American Aviator who stole her heart and never gave it back. She thought she was crazy as her internal monologue kicked in and begged her not to do it. Not to let him back in.

But she did it anyway—

“My flatmate is working the dinner shift at Sails, if you come by we can talk.” Jake could have jumped up and punched the air he was that thankful. “My address is 40 Crescent Street, apartment 17.”

“Can you do me a favour and unblock my number so I can at least text you when I arrive?” Jake sent Amilia the cheekiest grin he could conjure up and for a split second he heard it, her laugh, the laugh he heard in his wildest dreams and fantasies.

Amilia simply smiled back as she watched Jake step away from her car and shut it for her, he watched as she rolled down her window. Slowly but surely pulling out of the car park.

“I’ll consider it.”

She wasn’t getting that tattoo removed.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Tags: @a-serene-place-to-be @lilyevanswhore @thescarletknight2014 @blindedbythelightt @averyhotchner @emma8895eb @blairfox04 @caitsymichelle13 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @teacupsandtopgun @aemondssiut @feltonswifesworld87 @akalei349 @notjustsomeblonde @americaarse @avaleineandafryingpan @phoenix1388 @xoxabs88xox @je-suis-prest-rachel @pono-pura-vida @rosiahills22 @starset21 @anarchyrising @caidi-paris @starkleila @criticalroleobssedperson @enchantingdreamergothprune @flrboyd @emma8895eb @endofdays56

#terms of endearment // jake seresin #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #Jake Seresin x oc #terms of endearment// bradley bradshaw

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whilereadingandwalking · 1 month

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I read Cloudstreet, a modern Australian classic by Tim Winton about two down-on-their-luck families who end up living in the same big ramshackle, haunted home, beginning in Brisbane (someone had misinformed me and told me it was set there) and then throughout the long plane ride home. Now, I liked a lot about it. I liked the surrealist touches, the premonitions and warnings and dreams. I liked the flinty Oriel, a mother and a hard worker, and her soft husband Lester; I liked the journey of young Quick. It's a family epic about two families shaped by tragedies. It's compelling even when sometimes long-winded.

But ultimately, I really struggled with the core character: Fish. The Lamb family's world changes when a tragic accident leaves the favorite son, Fish, mentally disabled. Other characters' stories and journeys are built upon this tragedy. But he also has seemingly magical abilities. He "knows" things, he can talk to the family pig and to the ghosts of the house, he appears to characters in dreams and some version of him is narrating our novel. He is described too often in a very dehumanizing way (was a scene of his brother sobbing as he cleans Fish up after he shit himself necessary to the plot?) and Rose's crush on him becomes a ridiculous childhood fantasy transferred onto his brother instead.

Most upsettingly (spoilers), the ending of the two families, the two mothers, seeming to heal and come together in the house, seems to hinge on his suicide. It's been hinted at throughout the book—when Fish almost drowned, but was resurrected, he felt disappointed to be taken from the water, as if there was something wrong in his rebirth, and he's craved the water ever since. His purposeful drowning is written almost as a correction, a completion of what had been hanging over the Lamb family all this time. It is a release for him and his family—which is extremely troubling.

We can add to that a mysterious black man/spirit/ghost who shows up at random times solely to hand out sage advice or warning. One of the ghosts of the house is an indigenous girl who was killed in the midst of a colonizing, imperialist re-education project. These brown presences haunt the families of Cloudstreet, perhaps a metaphor for colonization's legacies, but mostly an uncomfortable magical-negro style presence instead. The women are...ok, Oriel being the best written of them. The male characters are interesting and complex but they too have their holes.

Ultimately, if it had had a different ending for Fish, I might have been able to better balance the flaws of this book with its successes, but it's impossible in the end. A shame, because a lot in this book was really promising.

Intense content warnings for ableism, suicide. Warnings also for violence, disordered eating, child death, substance abuse/addiction.

#cloudstreet #tim winton #bookworm #book blog #book love #my book reviews #reading while wandering #reading while wandering australia

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rosiwiley · 2 months

Text

Bio

[ KAT MCNAMARA / FEMALE / PANSEXUAL. ] known more so as ROSI , ROSALIE WILEY is TWENTY EIGHT year old PHOTOGRAPHER . she can often be found jamming out to LOVE STORY by Taylor Swift and i know if you ask their mum they’d say they remind them of a walking ray of sunshine, girl next door, always having a camera in their hand whatever the occasion. [ KARA , 25 , SHE/HER , GMT , NONE. ]

Backstory and intro:

TW!! drug use mentioned, emotional abuse mentioned and disregarding of sexuality and gender identity.

Rosalie "Rosi" Wiley was born in Memphis, Texas, on 21st August 1996 to a mother who was... unkind, to say the least. Rosi was young and didn't know any better; her mother, on the other hand, was a drug addict and was cruel towards Rosi. It was simple things, at first, little things, the way she looked, the way she would speak to her. Because of this, Rosi was one to practically raise herself, and when she was around ten years old, she saw her mother passed out on the floor from the drugs she had been taking, and Rosi was taken into foster care.

After a few years of being in foster care, at the age of thirteen, she was finally taken out of foster care and lived with her mother; however, at this point in her life, even at the age of thirteen, she was questioning her sexuality, of course, she may have been young. Still, she had a close connection with someone while she was in foster care and cared deeply about them. When at seventeen, she finally admitted to her mother she felt as though she wanted her to use she/they pronouns, seeing herself as genderfluid even if she was very feminine and was still very much female and that she was pansexual, her mother disapproved. She outright refused to accept her daughter as anything but straight and as a female. She refused to call them "they" or "them" and refused to see her as pansexual, insisting that it was "just a phase" once again using emotional manipulation to make Rosi feel small and like nothing.

At the age of eighteen, when she finally was able to move out, she went to university and this was where she met her first boyfriend, unfortunately for her, when he found out that she was pansexual and again used she/they pronouns, she once again had someone in her life who didn't accept her for her, so she broke up with him, though he refused it at first, she insisted and managed to get out of the relationship before things got worse.

After graduating from university with a photography degree, she became a freelance photographer while also working at a local shop on the side. She saved up her own allowance to leave the USA and away from her mother for good.

Finally, at age twenty-five, she moved to Brisbane and became a freelance photographer. She worked at the local school as a photographer for the school's picture day photos. She continues to work on the side, working in a local bookshop. She is still very much a photographer; however, being a freelancer means she still needs to make ends meet and have a side job to make sure ends always meet, and she has money coming in every month.

#rosi; bio #intro; rosi

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eigenaardigheid · 2 months

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[ hwang in yeop / male / bisexual. ] known more so as izzy , kim iseul is the thirty-one year old college prof . he can often be found jamming out to paris, texas by lana del rey, SYML and i know if you ask their mum they’d say they remind them of sunsets, early summer & the scent of sweet magnolias.

full name: kim iseul nicknames: izzy birthdate: june 6 birthplace: ulsan, south-korea age: thirty-one gender: cisman pronouns: he / him romance: biromantic / bisexual occupation: college prof fears: insects likes: reading, architecture faceclaim: hwang in yeop

extra

izzy was born in ulsan, south-korea. his family moved to brisbane when he was fourteen, because his father's company was expanding

growing up izzy never missed anything, he had a loving and caring family, went to a good school and had many friends

it was only after he moved to australia that the male started having troubles, he had a hard time picking up the english language and this made him feel very isolated

high school was long and painful for the young man, he struggled with making friends because he didn't understand the slang they were using and failed several classes because he didn't understand the full context of what he was being taught

it was only near the end of high school, in his very last year, that he started opening up once more, he was able to make two very close friends whom he still hangs out with now

during his lonely years, the male got interested in philosophy, reading up on different philosophers and their philosophies, this is what intrigued him to go to college for philosophy, only he also wanted to study literature, something his guidance counselor was very opposed to as he at the time was still struggling with the english language

only izzy didn't care, he loved literature and was determined not to fail, so the next few years he spent day in, day out learning, reading, revising, writing and studying

after only one minor set back in his second year, he graduated with ease and came out of it much stronger and full of vitality for life and its wonders

in the next couple years he worked in a bookstore, until it closed down and he had to find something new to do, it was then that he figured he might as well share his knowledge with others and he applied to teach at an open position at the local university

it wasn't much later that he got a job offer and this is where his life seemed to really start. the male loved teaching, it was something he took much pride in and still does to this day

it was also around the time he started teacher that he met lennox, someone who he claims to this day, albeit not aloud, to be the love of his life

the two had a good romance, filled with pure love and care for one another, even going as far as getting engaged, but it didn't last long

izzy's family started putting pressure on the male, wanting him to have children terribly bad and this in return made the male feel like he was being unfair to his lover, knowing he could never give this to him

the idea was slowly making the male spiral and instead of taking it on with his lover, he kept to himself, unsure of how to put his feelings and thoughts into words

it was then he broke off the engagement, leaving the other with no explanation as to why he felt this was best

ever since, izzy has been living in a blur, just moving with the flow, not really talking to many or doing much of anything else

connections

best friends (2, since high school)

siblings (2, one older, one younger, WC)

ex-lover (lennox)

#ooc ﹡bam #bbsfmintro

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alphaman99 · 9 months

Text

Lost Brisbane

INTERESTING FACTS ABOUT THE 1% ERS:

99% of people born between 1930 and 1946 (GLOBALLY) are now dead.

If you were born in this time span, your ages range between 77 and 93 years old (a 16-year age span) and you are one of the rare surviving one-percenters.

You are the smallest group of children born since the early 1900's.

You are the last generation, climbing out of the depression, who can remember the winds of war and the impact of a world at war that rattled the structure of our daily lives for years.

You are the last to remember ration books for everything from tea to sugar to shoes. You saved tin foil and poured fried meat fat into cans.

You can remember milk being delivered to your house early in the morning and placed in the "milk box" at the front door. Discipline was enforced by parents and teachers. You are the last generation who spent childhood without television and instead, you “imagined” what you heard on the radio.

With no TV, you spent your childhood "playing outside". There was no city playground for kids. The lack of television in your early years meant that you had little real understanding of what the world was like.

We got “black-and-white” TV in the late 50s that had 3 stations and no remote.

Telephones (if you had one) were one to a house and hung on the wall in the kitchen (who cares about privacy). Computers were called calculators; they were hand-cranked. Typewriters were driven by pounding fingers, throwing the carriage, and changing the ribbon. INTERNET and GOOGLE were words that did not exist.

Newspapers and magazines were written for adults and your dad would give you the comic pages after he read the news. The news was broadcast on your radio in the evening. The radio network gradually expanded from 3 stations to thousands.

New highways would bring jobs and mobility. Most highways were 2 lanes and there were no Motorways. You went downtown to shop. You walked to school.

Your parents were suddenly free from the confines of the depression and the war, and they threw themselves into working hard to make a living for their families.

You weren't neglected, but you weren't today's all-consuming family focus. They were glad you played by yourselves. They were busy discovering the postwar world. You entered a world of overflowing plenty and opportunity; a world where you were welcomed, enjoyed yourselves. You felt secure in your future, although the depression and poverty were deeply remembered.

Polio was still a crippler. Everyone knew someone who had it.

You are the last generation to experience an interlude when there were no threats to our country. World War 2 was over and the cold war, terrorism, global warming, and perpetual economic insecurity had yet to haunt life. Only your generation can remember a time after WW2 when our world was secure and full of bright promise and plenty. You grew up at the best possible time, a time when the world was getting better.

More than 99% of you are retired now, and you should feel privileged to have "lived in the best of times!" If you have already reached the age of 77 years old, you have outlived 99% of all the other people on this planet. You are a 1% 'er!

Photo: Esther Collings and her husband Ronald, who were Australia's oldest living couple in 2018.

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kalopsiawasteland · 2 months

Text

“FUCKED UP LIKE A ROCKSTAR, DANCIN’ ON A COP CAR, NO ONE IN THE WORLD CAN SAVE ME NOW”

flannels partnered with beanies, always being someone's bail-out, and sadness hidden behind a floppy grin...

INTRODUCING…

NAME: Brodie DeMarco Sato

GENDER & PREFERRED PRONOUNS: Cis Man {He/Him}

AGE: 32

BIRTHDAY: November 23, 1991

ZODIAC: Sagittarius Sun, Capricorn Rising, Gemini Moon

SEXUALITY & ROMANCE: Heteroflex

FACE CLAIM: Darren Barnet

OCCUPATION: Mechanic/Drug Dealer

HOMETOWN: Denver, CO

CURRENT RESIDENCY: Brisbane, AUS.

CHARACTER PLAYLIST: HERE.

UP NEXT: “LIKE A ROCKSTAR” BY CHASE ATLANTIC

BIOGRAPHY: TW DRUG/ALCOHOL USE, DEATH, FIRE, VEHICLE ACCIDENT

Brodie was a very sensitive yet outgoing kid. His sensitivity wasn’t geared in physical pain, but more-so in the ways that made him stand up to the bullies on the playground who picked on the more introverted kids. It was because of this, that he was seen as a leader at the mere age of 4 and also earned him his best friend, Elliot.

As he grew, his teachers and peers favored him for his golden heart and puppy dog smile. His popularity skyrocketed, but he had his mom and dad to thank for the blueprint of his personality. His father, Kenji Sato, was the textbook definition of chivalry and had a very go-getter viewpoint of the world with a good head on his shoulders. His mother, Emily Sato, was always putting others first, walked as if sunshine was beneath her feet, and could make even the coldest of hearts crack a smile. Between his father and mother, Brodie was the golden boy in town. What else would one expect from the county’s fire chief and nurse practitioner’s boy?

Though he lost his father to a fire when he was only 7, Brodie was forced to grow up as he watched his mother slowly fall apart. At first, she just laid on the couch and stared at the wall for what felt like months on end; Brodie then becoming the caretaker until she was able to go to work. It was strange watching her grieving process change from not wanting to move, to then being nonstop. It felt almost close to normal, that was until she brought home a baby from the hospital. In the blink of an eye, Brodie became a master of many hats; not only stepping up to not let his mom down, but also trying to be the best older brother he could be for the new addition to the Sato family. They were a little broken, but they made it work. And by ‘they’ I mean Brodie. When his sister needed help on a school project, he was there. When his sister skinned her knee, he was there. Brodie was the constant that showed up when their mother’s busy nurse schedule kept her at bay. When the world checked out, Brodie was always there to make sure his sister wasn’t alone.

If it wasn’t his teammates, then it was Elliot who attempted to get Brodie to live a little. Always doing the right thing and being everyone’s walking conscious was tiring after all, but Brodie hadn’t strayed from the straight and narrow. Even with the shelved grief and the need to be a good role model and caretaker for Harper, Brodie never stepped out of line. That was, until the senior year homecoming game. Being the captain of the hockey team, it only made sense that he had friends in other sport teams. It was serendipitous that the football team practically paired off with the hockey team in the realm of friendships; the quarterback happening to be none other than Elliot. When they won, the party seemed to get a little out of control. Brodie drank for the first time, but didn’t necessarily know when to stop. At least he wasn’t as fucked up as his best friend was.

Brodie still plays it back in his head. How he laughed when Elliot mentioned going on the quad together. How Elliot managed to sway him and put the only helmet on him so he can drive. How Elliot’s last words were that it was going to be alright, right before they crashed head-on into a tree.

Ultimately, it was just more grief and now guilt that she shelved, but he started to crack. By the time he was in The University of Queensland for his undergrad, Brodie was always high or drunk. He lost his love for hockey, over-trained his body when he barely ate. He became a drug dealer when he dropped out of college, owing someone and then falling into the scheme to pay them back for all the drugs he just 'put on his tab.’ He was able to pay the person off, but the money and easy access was too hard to not pass up.

Brodie was able to gather up the strength to get clean…. once…. twice… The relapses hit so hard, he almost gave up before he got into a trade school and became a mechanic. Now living in Brisbane, Brodie is trying to navigate being on a tightrope of sobriety under the radar.

EXTRA-EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT HIM!

Brodie is self-destructive. It’s a cry for help, but he doesn’t want to take the necessary steps on getting help. He’s overly cocky, but it’s for show. He’s used to wearing a mask, seeing that he’s been wearing a strong one since he was 7 years of age. Brodie is comical, though he has a tendency of cracking jokes at the wrong time. Fun-loving and a bit of a himbo, the Sato male genuinely is benevolent despite the melancholy hold on his brain. He’s protective of those he cares about, though it can be over-bearing. Brodie is dauntless to the degree of craving danger; He loves to drag race in the early AMs of the night life and is actually known for this amongst a specific population of night owls. He tries to keep people at an arm’s length because he’s petrified of losing people, and tends to hideaway from time to time if it becomes too overwhelming. He loves his coffee black, and though he may seem dull-minded he’s actually very street smart. When someone needs help out of a situation, he’s a great therapist friend but cannot figure out his own problems. He’s just a goofy mess, guys (who really likes women and video games).

PERSONALITY:

+ Easy-Going, Protective, and Charismatic

- Astute, Non-Committal, and Careless

#bbsfmintro

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qnewslgbtiqa · 4 days

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Henny Spaghetti's response to being slapped by a fan

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/henny-spaghettis-response-to-being-slapped-by-a-fan/

Henny Spaghetti's response to being slapped by a fan

Each month, we ask local entertainers to spill the tea about themselves, their craft and the local scene. This month it’s Brisbane queen Henny Spaghetti.

She chats with us about going viral, being an AFAB queen and what she did when slapped by a fan.

The first time I did drag was…

in 2017! It was in a now long-gone gay bar right on the main street of Surfers Paradise in the Gold Coast!

I would describe my drag as…

Glamour clown who loves comfortable footwear.

My best skill in being a drag performer is…

I think it’s my lip-syncing and my musicality. I love performing to a song as a whole, not just basing my movement off of the lyrics or the music but the little flourishes and extra details that artists put into their songs!

Something people don’t know about doing drag is…

It’s harder than it looks and it feels better than anything in the world.

The Brisbane drag scene is…

Overflowing with genuine talent, the level of quality here is unbelievable. We have to love doing drag up here, it’s too hot to do it and not love it.

RuPauls’ Drag Race is...

An excellent tool that has exposed drag to the world. But something that needs to catch up with the times.

My family’s reaction to me doing drag was…

Definitely a few questions. I started when I was living at home and it was just the make up side of things that was probably the most startling, especially with how I used to look. The performance side of things seemed to make sense to them though, put the money they put into my after-school theatre classes to use.

On being an AFAB queen

Being referred to as an Assigned Female at Birth (AFAB) queen is….

More interesting now than when I started. I find that its use can come across really clinical and I don’t think it really is needed as a term any more.

I find you’re witnessing someone who is a drag queen, being a drag queen itself is a queer act and a parody of societal expectations of “womanhood”.

Why do people need to know what’s on my birth certificate to enjoy me wearing a wig, 20000kg of makeup, and lip-syncing to an INXS saxophone solo at 9:30 pm on a Thursday.

What people don’t realise about being an AFAB queen is…

There still is a huge bias and stigma against it. It extends deeply to the drag king community too.

Other queens

My drag heroes are…

The pinnacle of course is Roxxxy Andrews, drag perfection. Other huge influences are my good-hosting sisters Mandy Moobs and Shanny T-Bone. Then there are other legends like Landon Cider, Tenderoni, Aunty Chan, Meatball, Tony Soto, Bailey J Mills, Sasha Velour, Sasha Colby (duh), Shea Couleé. I could truly go on forever.

The drag performer who deserves more attention is…

I’m gonna list some Australian superstars who are simply superstars: Gogo Bumhole, Lynduhh, Dolly Kicks, Ladybird, Space Horse, The Birthday Girl, Donna Kebab, Missy Matrix. Again another list, and again I could go on forever!

The drag performer I’d hate to live with would be...

I’ve only ever lived out of home with other drag queens, it’s not too bad! I’d hate to live with LuLu Lemans, all of her drag is so nice and organised! I felt like I was in a museum when I saw her drag room.

Her performances

Going viral for performing The White Lotus theme was…

Really unexpected and really funny! I came up with it that day and posted on the app formerly known as Twitter whether or not I should perform it as a joke and I did! The biggest shock was the angry Americans in the comments saying I deserved to be tipped for it. When I told them that my PayPal was in my Instagram bio and they could tip me there, the only people that did were Aussies!

@hennyspaghetti The gays just know how to do stuff! #whitelotus #whitelotusseason2 #fyp #drag #dragqueen #jennifercoolidge ♬ Renaissance (Main Title Theme) [from “The White Lotus: Season 2”] – Cristobal Tapia De Veer

My favourite performance ever was...

This year at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival! For the last four years I have played Donkey in Swamplesque which is a parody burlesque show based on a beloved film about an Ogre finding out he has layers. We’ve been lucky enough to tour the show post covid and this year we performed in Melbourne Town Hall for the comedy festival. It was truly a dream come true and the audience was over 900 people strong and you could feel the energy in the room even from backstage!

My favourite song to perform is…

Total Eclipse of the Heart but it has to be the Glee Version.

The worst thing someone in the audience has done was…

After a show I was taking photos with audience members and this one group were taking their sweet time getting everyone sorted, so I jokingly pretended to be asleep. One of the women in the group came up and slapped me! I’ve never moved faster than to grab her hand and say “What makes you think you can do that to someone, yet alone a drag queen in a donkey costume!”. She was rather shaken, as was I. I still took the photo though.

One message I have for our community is…

GO OUT! HAVE FUN! COME SEE THE DRAG SHOWS! There is no show with no audience! Brisbane has such incredible, diverse and TALENTED drag performers! It is a disservice to yourself to not go and see what it’s all about.

You can follow @hennyspaghetti on Instagram.

Read next

Archie Arsenic calls for more accessible queer spaces

Get to know First Nations queen Chocolate Boxx

Spill the tea with Brisbane drag star Maxi-Bon

For the latest LGBTIQA+ Sister Girl and Brother Boy news, entertainment, community stories in Australia, visit qnews.com.au. Check out our latest magazines or find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube.

#drag queen

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francistwentythree · 8 days

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Who do I want to be?

• Vegan in a way that respects animals above all and allows freedom and abundance of enjoyment in food. Literary education on veganism and the facts. A positive impact on the lives of animals. A safe and inviting space for others to come to and speak about it with. Never isolating, always impactful. Firm and sure without needing external validation. Never pushing the agenda when it is expectedly fruitless, never lowering myself by joking about it or appeasing discomfort the topic may cause in others.

• Dryness. I’m not a dry person anymore. I acknowledge it comes from negativity and I no longer hold that negativity in me.

• Thin. I have matched my lowest weight but have more of a butt x I am not interested in food other than as an experience or something to bond over with fellow humans. My body is at it’s happy place.

• Animals

I’m in a home somewhere I can see sprawling fields to one side and trees that change with the seasons on the other. I sit on my patio with my dogs and cats and babies and read a book. I have many favourites now. Books I can talk about and books that have touched me. I feel true whole unchangeable peace.

I love the stars and the night sky and floating in the swirling clouds against the purple night and I love the trees on Brisbane street and the smell of a cold morning in Berwick and I love buying mum a coffee at the shops after she’s bought us movie tickets and lunch and I love my sweet joshi and my silly little Jane and I love the pure joy I feel in the ocean and talking to Clare over an ice cream and when the first note plays at a concert. And I love when a really good oldie comes on somewhere and treasuring nostalgia and walking down collins street knowing it’s not forever but it’s here because I brought it. I love dragging jokes and warm milo and getting engrossed in a show or a book. I love the little breaths joshi takes after a spree of licking himself clean. I love the moment when I’m with the person I love and we both just shared a joke or an idea and I know we’re both thinking about how close we feel in that moment. I love stopping for a coffee in my car I love road trips when we’re leaving the city and suddenly in a big open space. I love pit stops and small towns and markets. I love myself for reaching goals no matter how small. I love that I know I don’t have to hate myself and I can stop it even if it’s hard. I love hearing vance say silly words and seeing how smart and vivid his four year old brain is. I love sweet kind people and I love the kindness in myself even though the world or maybe just my brain might try to make me hate it. A lot of my joy comes from things and ideas and moments where I am alone and that’s okay. It’s okay that I don’t accept other people’s energy when it isn’t beneficial.

I dont want to smoke weed. I dont want to do mdma and ketamine and I dont want to do acid or shrooms. I might one day and ill know if its what i want then. But I want to find the joy and understanding and connection in myself.

I don’t want to vape anymore. I smoke skinny menthols! I don’t smoke too often. I don’t smell of it ever unless I want to.

My softness is inherent and my rage is not. My depression and self loathing is not. My kindness is inherent. My humour. My love.

Depression is anger that had no where to go. I was so angry at my life. I don’t know why. Well. It’s difficult to accept it may have been because I felt entitled to more, to better. But I guess someone who wants more will be angry when they are stopped or unable. I was angry that the world wasn’t built for me, so clearly, so harshly. That I didn’t have the power to build my own because I was a child. I didn’t have the power and I felt weak. And my parents loved me and are good parents but they could not give me some of the things I needed. And I was angry at my sister. And at dad and I was so angry that life wasn’t a movie or a show or what my little brain was shown it could’ve been. I forgive myself for the things I am ashamed of. For the feelings and thoughts and actions I will take to my grave. I forgive myself and I have learnt. I have learnt and that is what matters. I have learnt and changed. I forgive myself that humans do not wake up and interact with the world differently. I forgive the world that it is not an inherently kind place. I trust that I myself can make it a kinder place, for me and those around me.

I don’t hate muslims. I don’t want to hate. I don’t even when I want to burn someone with lasers out of my eyes. I do not hate those yelling free Palestine or think they’re below me. I want to be more educated I want to learn. I want to actively learn and retain.

I release my hyperawrwnwss of my jaw and my mouth and my brows. My beauty is inherent and uncontrollable by little actions. I love myself and I don’t think about myself too often. I have time I move slowly. I find beauty in the dishes and in putting away my laundry. I say no and I prioritise myself. I do not try to appease others. I do not give any energy to those that insult or do not welcome me. I don’t try to fit in with those not meant for me. They are only passing by and there is no reason for me to hold onto them. I release them and pray for them.

I do not force myself to speak in fear of being boring or losing my relationships. I don’t swear as much. I understand the way I speak and I stand by it. By my tone of voice and pronunciation of words - it’s no longe impaired by a too fast brain.

I hold myself highly. I am number one and I care about myself too much to let any other single persons actions or words impact me.

I have loved and I have lost and I have learnt. I release with love and let myself feel pain sometimes at the same time if that’s what I need.

I love myself and because of that I am disciplined. Discipline not from a place of desperately having to but of wanting to. I acknowledge my world view is altered by the media consume and I guard it my mind as if its heavens gate.

People who’s energy I enjoy and who enjoy mine. Media only that is positive, humurous, inspiring or artistic. Educational. I don’t torture myself to feel but I am aware of the bad. I’m aware of it without letting it impact my emotions.

I dress the way I’ve always wanted. My skin is beautifully clear and glowing.

I wanted something out of my brunswick sharehouse experience and I got it but in a way that wasn’t all bliss as it tends to be in daydreaming, it was mixed in with lessons. I cannot be wild if I am not my number one the entire time, if I haven’t taken care of myself along the way. Kept my room clean. Drank water and showered. Eaten something healthy and done my laundry and reflected. Prepared routinely not sporadically. Quality over quantity of people forever. You will feel alone in a room whether they are sick asf naarmcore xd or the kind of off ones. That shit doesn’t fucking matter. The right ones are the ones that come when you are on the path you want and that is that. You are not below anyone. You are open. You don’t need to naturally understand how to live with a stranger. All you can do is be kind and respectful and trust your gut. Trust your gut and it will trust you.

I am not afraid of my routine because I know I am not chained to it.

I know how to manage negative emotions and have broken cycles I thought were part of me (they weren’t)

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milknhonies · 5 months

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"THE BUS STOP FOR A BEAUTIFUL SOUL."

A year ago from today something really uplifting happened to me. I texted and told this to my friend @omnia-vanitas69 moments after it happened while I was travelling back home one the bus.

I then went home and tried remembering all the details to note in my diary. Today I'm sharing what occurred on 30th June 2023 @ Alexandria Street - Bus Stop 11. (Photos have been provided.)

I was waiting for a bus to go back home from a class in "Employment skills & Resume design." A helpful program for unemployed people, free and funded by the government to encourage people to get a job instead of living off of Centrelink (Assist Benefits).

At the bus stop was an odd looking fellow. I'll be frank. He was what in Australia we call a bogan. "an uncouth or unsophisticated person regarded as being of low social status." He had lost teeth, unbrushed hair, no shoes on, a singlet and shorts. He was smoking and carrying a plastic shopping bag, I can't remember what was inside.

I smiled at him, because...I perhaps pitied his appearance. I also felt that it better to be nice than rude and silent as we waited for the bus.

I recalled saying "Afternoon. Aren't you cold?" (As June is the winter month in Australia.) And that is how conversation broke out.

An unspoken culture difference (in Australia at least) I've come to learn is that people who have come from the city are not as kindly social to strangers. People in the country or of an older generation can easily hold a conversation with someone they've just met.

Before this interaction I have to quickly provide the context that my father passed away in 2021 June 18-19. It has been perhaps one of the greatest traumas I've experienced.

Now back to the original story.

I'm sitting with this bogan man and I'm talking to him. He's got the thicker brash accent compared to my softer, britanian twang.

We discussed how long we had both lived in Brisbane. I had only been there for a few months to a year at the time. He had been in Brisbane his entire life.

He asked if I had family here and I said "Unfortunately not, but I have a mother who resides in Logan." (Logan is a very large suburb that has been granted the term Logan City and been divided into multiple suburbs. Logan is where many poorer and low class minorities live in the Brisbane region.)

He told me, "My wife, she has a boyfriend now and lives with him in Logan." When I looked at this man closer, I could see tears come to his eyes and his voice began to choke, "She will always be my wife even if by the law she isn't anymore."

I felt unsure whether I should feel empathetic or uneasy. It was an eery situation. My prejudice had battled my mind. But I let empathy take control after a true second seeing the way his face looked. He was smiling. He was softening. He wasn't a scary man. He was devoted.

"Now I will never say a bad thing about that woman," he said proudly, "Not many women are like her you see. Her soul is good. I have come to learn the greatest skill of observation. And I can see just now as I look into your eyes and see your soul. You are a listener."

I recalled thinking, 'great another arrogant male fanatic wannabe psychic.' which isn't a kind thing to think but I really don't approve of people who claim to hold this mass knowledge of the stars and universe especially when they look like a crackhead. It's childish behaviour.

But...he then said.

"You have a soul like hers."

Which at first made me confused and secondly made me feel unsure about him. There was something about his presence that was so magnetising. I did worry he would ask for my phone number and send me a nude image for the purpose of trying to have sex with me like most men usually do.

Instead he wiped his face and softly said, "Now trust me, I'm not trying to get a girlfriend. Don't get me wrong. You must be a lovely girl. I have only ever loved one woman and that is my wife."

I nodded and looked away from him. I didn't know how to feel. I was relieved. I was confused. I was on edge.

Across the road there was a park and a big jacaranda tree in the middle with apartment buildings around the area. It was covered in brown green leaves and purple flowers dying off. I stared at the jacaranda and thought about how ugly the infostructure disrupted the natural beauty.

I thought about how the tree was like a sign of evidence form god that even as we die or have died, we are still alive in his mercy. Christians typically are not meant to believe in the words of a psychic, it's considered unholy, demonic and dangerous if prophecies are true. It made me feel cold and think about how if I continued talking to the man somehow it would damage my soul.

I remember not looking at him when he said this-, "But I want you to know. I want to tell you. Right now. You're a beautiful young lady and I know there's troubles in your past but you will not need to worry about them any longer. I promise you."

It was quite frankly rattling. I couldn't decide whether I needed to hold back laughter or consider running away from him. It wasn't scary but I felt like there was something far more supernatural with the way his eyes and voice seemed to make me feel warm.

He said, "I know I might look mangy and like a dirty old bastard in these rags, but please believe me. Your soul is beautiful and shines out from and through you. You are stunning and must hold your head up to show the world your beauty. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."

I never told my friend this. This is something I left strictly in my diary until now. This old bogan man touched my chin. He pressed his one pointer finger tip on my chin and sighed softly, smiling with his black and rotten teeth..

He said in the gentlest tone that was just above a whisper, "because you my dear...are a beautiful young lady."

And I felt like I had been harpooned with some invisible arrow in the chest and stomach that I couldn't remove. I struggled to talk. I was not sure how to respond except nod and say, "Thankyou, I'm not sure I believe or agree with you sir, but thankyou for your kind words."

He shook his head and then panic filled his face because the bus I was waiting for was driving passed.

He took off down the street to chase the bus. He knocked on the door. And I was a smidge embarrassed to get on while he told the driver that he shouldn't have driven passed since he could see me waiting.

What's weird is, he didn't get on the bus. It's the only bus number to go through.

It was like...he was waiting there the entire time...just to talk to someone. And without being too vain I might add, just to tell me about what he believed he could see of my soul.

Whether it was real or not is not really the haunting issue. What haunts me is how I could so easily fall in love with a man thrice my age, smelt like a cancerous breath and looked like a toothless chihuahua.

I know it's shameful but if he asked for a kiss, I probably would've granted it. Not in pure lust. No. It would have been light and sweet but full of devoted desire to prove my gratitude to his compliment.

He was noble. Polite and kind. He did not make me feel objectified or sexualised. He made me feel adored and appreciated and loved. We never even exchanged names.

I still think of him. And I hope somewhere he is doing well or at least at peace in regards to the dangers in his health.

But deep deep down i always smile cheekily at the prospect of him not even being human...Like he was some mystic angelic being. Like he was some long lost soul trapped in that man's body for those thirty minutes it took me to wait for the bus.

Anyway. I hope those who read this post will experience this feeling and wave of special spiritual compliments

#old man #bus stop #supernatural #milky thoughts

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rajrag66 · 11 months

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The Ultimate Test

There is a quote displayed in bold letters in the Philippe Chatrier Court at the French Open 'Victory Belongs To The Most Tenacious'. This was amply demonstrated on Sunday when the tenacious and arguably greatest ever player Novak Djokovic won a record breaking 23rd Grand Slam title. Unfortunately there was little tenacity or fighting spirit in evidence a few hours earlier at the Oval, as India capitulated to a 209 run defeat to Australia. The match never really lived up to its billing as the 'Ultimate test'. The large Indian contingent at the ground must have felt really let down at the manner of defeat. There were a few embers of hope burning in the minds of fans when Kohli and Rahane resumed batting after a confident 71 run stand. However from the time Kohli fell to an expansive drive outside the off stump, it was clear that visions of another famous win in the manner of Brisbane 2021 were overly optimistic. Thereafter wickets feel in quick succession with no resistance displayed. Gavaskar did not hide his disappointment at India's performance, after all he was part of the team that successfully chased a 400 + target at Port of Spain in 1976. One also recalls Gavaskar's magnificent 221 in 1979 at the same Oval ground, as India fell agonising short by 9 runs chasing a mammoth 438 with the match ending in a draw. Unfortunately there were no such heroics this time. India failed to take advantage of the subcontinental weather, and a true wicket which aided both batting and bowling in equal measure. The decision to bat first appeared wrong in hindsight, especially based on how Head and Smith attacked the bowling on the 1st day. Why the world's number 1 bowler in rankings Ashwin was dropped for the 6th test in a row in England is inexplicable and extremely unfair to a modern day legend who must be wondering what more he needs to do to be picked consistently overseas. It is ironic that England have recalled Moin Ali who has not played any red ball cricket in a while for want of better spin options, whereas someone like Ashwin with 474 wickets to his credit is often left cooling his heals. Even if the match result might not have changed, there is no doubt that Ashwin's inclusion would have made the Indian attack far more potent. Ashwin would also make a great captain and we wish that like Kumble he gets a chance to lead the team prior to retirement.

Rahane transferred his IPL form to test cricket and should be given credit along with Jadeja and Shardul for keeping India in the game after everything seemed lost during the 1st innings. Australia were truly deserving winners and look in great shape for the Ashes. Boland was the stand out bowler and his style is tailor-made for English conditions. Head and Smith look set to torment the English bowlers throughout the summer. Green and Carey add great depth to the team.

As we look forward to the new ICC test cycle, the Indian selectors must blood some youngsters during the West Indies tour against relatively weak opposition. Good performances in the Ranji trophy should be rewarded and young players suited for test cricket should be identified early and given the right opportunities. The health of test cricket depends to a large extent on India doing well and therefore one hopes that the longer form of the game is given due importance by the BCCI. Whatever be the attractions of the T20 leagues, there is nothing more satisfying than watching a good test match, which will always be the pinnacle of the game.

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arongerseo · 1 year

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How to Find the Best Hypnotherapist in Brisbane

Introduction

Have you ever felt like you're stuck in a rut? Like you're unable to overcome certain patterns of behavior, thoughts, or emotions that are holding you back from living your best life? If so, you're not alone. Many people struggle with anxiety, depression, phobias, addictions, and other issues that can be difficult to overcome on their own.

That's where hypnotherapy comes in. Hypnotherapy is a safe, effective, and non-invasive way to access the subconscious mind and reprogram negative patterns of thought and behavior. With the help of a skilled hypnotherapist, you can overcome your fears, increase your confidence, improve your relationships, and achieve your goals.

If you're looking for the best hypnotherapy Brisbane has to offer, you've come to the right place. In this post, we'll explore what hypnotherapy is, how it works, and how to find the best Brisbane Hypnotherapist to help you achieve your goals.

Section 1: What is Hypnotherapy?

Contrary to popular belief, hypnotherapy is not a form of mind control or brainwashing. Instead, it's a form of therapy that uses hypnosis to help you access your subconscious mind and reprogram negative patterns of thought and behavior.

Hypnosis is a natural state of consciousness that we all experience every day. Have you ever been so engrossed in a book or movie that you didn't notice someone talking to you? That's a form of hypnosis. When you're hypnotized, your conscious mind becomes less active, and your subconscious mind becomes more open to suggestion.

A hypnotherapist will guide you into a hypnotic state using relaxation techniques and positive suggestions. Once you're in a hypnotic state, the hypnotherapist will help you visualize positive outcomes and reprogram negative thought patterns. The goal of hypnotherapy is to help you access your inner resources and make positive changes in your life.

Section 2: How Does Hypnotherapy Work?

Hypnotherapy works by accessing your subconscious mind, which is where your thoughts, emotions, and behaviors are stored. Your subconscious mind is like a tape recorder that records everything you experience, even if you're not consciously aware of it.

By accessing your subconscious mind, a hypnotherapist can help you identify and reprogram negative patterns of thought and behavior. For example, if you have a fear of public speaking, a hypnotherapist can help you visualize yourself giving a successful speech and reprogram your subconscious mind to associate public speaking with positive emotions instead of fear.

Although hypnotherapy is often used to treat anxiety, depression, and other mental health issues, it can also be used to improve performance in sports, academics, and other areas of life. By helping you access your inner resources, hypnotherapy can help you achieve your goals and live your best life.

Section 3: How to Find the Best Hypnotherapist Brisbane

If you're looking for the best hypnotherapy Brisbane has to offer, there are a few things to keep in mind:

1. Look for the best Hypnotherapist Brisbane.

Make sure your hypnotherapist is qualified and experienced. Look for someone who has completed a recognized hypnotherapy training program and is a member of a professional hypnotherapy organization.

2. Check their reviews and testimonials.

Read reviews and testimonials from previous clients to get an idea of the hypnotherapist's success rate and client satisfaction.

3. Consider their specialization.

Some hypnotherapists specialize in certain areas, such as anxiety, addiction, or performance enhancement. Make sure the hypnotherapist you choose has experience in the area you want to work on.

4. Trust your instincts.

Ultimately, the most important factor in choosing a hypnotherapist is your gut feeling. You should feel comfortable and safe with your hypnotherapist and be able to trust them with your innermost thoughts and feelings.

Conclusion

Hypnotherapy can be a powerful tool for personal growth and self-improvement. By accessing your subconscious mind and reprogramming negative patterns of thought and behavior, a skilled hypnotherapist can help you overcome anxiety, depression, addiction, and other issues that may be holding you back.If you're looking for the best hypnotherapy Brisbane has to offer, take the time to find a qualified and experienced hypnotherapist who specializes in the area you want to work on. With the right hypnotherapist by your side, you can achieve your goals and live your best life.

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whileiamdying · 2 years

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THE INFLUENCE

The delicate empathy of Iranian director Asghar Farhadi inspires Leticia Cáceres’s own exploration of family dilemmas.

— By Neha Kale

Peyman Moaadi and Sarina Farhadi in Asghar Farhadi’s 2011 film A Separation, and Leticia Cáceres (below). CREDIT: MAXIMUM FILM / ALAMY (ABOVE), BRETT BOARDMAN (BELOW)

Leticia Cáceres is drawn to stories in which ordinary people negotiate extraordinary circumstances. The award-winning director, who immigrated with her family to Brisbane as a 13-year-old, grew up in Córdoba, Argentina, where watching actors on the street sparked an early love of theatre. Cáceres, who moves between stage and screen, has since applied her powers of observation to a series of critically acclaimed productions including 2016’s The Drover’s Wife, 2018’s Going Down and the first two seasons of Stan’s Bump. When we speak, she’s preparing for the upcoming Belvoir adaption of Anne Deveson’s memoir of fighting for her son who’s diagnosed with schizophrenia, Tell Me I’m Here.

She’s long been captivated by the work of renowned Iranian director Asghar Farhadi. For Cáceres, Farhadi’s 2011 film A Separation – which sees a Tehran couple caught between the decision to move overseas for their daughter or stay to look after a sick parent – reflects the kind of deeply human struggle she wrestles with in her own work.

Tell me about A Separation. When did you first come across Farhadi’s work?

I was actually working on a play called The Dark Room. What resonated with me was that it was about people trying to migrate and why they migrate. Farhadi doesn’t make his characters political migrants. They are economic migrants, but there are underlying political questions about the everyday life of these people. What are the repercussions of staying? What are the repercussions of leaving? These are the things that we wrestled with when we left Argentina. We were a middle-class family and we could have stayed. But in terms of what could have opened up for the next generation in a country that has more stability, in a country that doesn’t have the same morality or religiosity imposing itself, means that different questions of class arise. I felt very strongly for these characters who work in the home, the conditions under which that woman has to travel for hours with a child. Those were images that I grew up with. That is the world for most people.

It’s a privilege to choose to move countries but I think those class questions are really underexplored.

There are the reasons why someone would want to stay. Your ties to family, your responsibility – oh my god, I’m getting emotional. There are subtle things that Farhadi peppers in there, like the dishes piling up and you go, this guy is really struggling. I just fell in love with the way he interrogates character in such an unobtrusive way. The camera isn’t there in a flashy manner, it’s just there as a companion to their lives.

To me, A Separation wrestles with difficult moral truths. The film revolves around a middle-class couple. The wife, Simin, wants to leave the country to give her daughter, Termeh, a better life. And her husband, Nader, wants to stay to look after his father who has Alzheimer’s. No one is right or wrong. How does the film’s ethical complexity inform you as a director?

It’s about allowing audiences to bear witness to life in a manner that allows empathy and compassion, and how these complexities intersect with politics. So we can ask broader questions like, why was Razieh on the bus for two hours? Why didn’t she say, I can’t take that job? We know why, but why does she persist? And the presence of that little girl, the way that he reveals information like when they are fighting the judge and the mother says, Look at all the pills my husband is taking, the depression that he’s in because he can’t get work!

The dignity and indignity of her husband, who you feel so much for. There are layers in there to do with Iranian culture that we can’t even get at. But he gives you the opportunity to understand the way we make choices and how we make choices. None are very simple. They are tied to a series of conditions that are sometimes social, sometimes political, sometimes emotional – and all of which are valid. And that is Farhadi’s mastery as a director.

The way we think of free will in the West is very individualistic. The scene where Razieh has to clean Nader’s father achieves something very powerful in terms of showing us how we try to protect our loved ones, what human dignity is.

There’s this beautiful moment when Nader goes in after her, trying to protect his dignity and hers. The way Farhadi as a director also maintains the dignity of the actor by closing the door on the camera so that the cleaning can happen. It is so delicate and so soulful.

In A Separation, the family is a microcosm of social forces. You’re also drawn to family in your own work.

I think part of it is about trying to enter into this family without a sense of judgement or preconceived notions about who they are and how they behave. I’m interested in the way we relate to each other and how power manifests in these relationships and what this speaks about societal infrastructure.

In Tell Me I’m Here, a professional like Anne Deveson, with enormous amounts of intellectual and financial privilege, can still be confronted by the cruelty of a chronic mental illness in a system that is not equipped to protect the most vulnerable.

Family is where the personal becomes the political. We don’t live in a bubble, we live in a society. We abide by cultural rules. All of these things are in play constantly. In A Separation, the middle-class family is quite open, but they also exploit cultural forces – for example, the granting or not granting of divorce. Also, the twist at the end when Nader says to Razieh, We will leave you alone, we will give you the money you want but you have to swear on the Quran that I didn’t hurt you. And he knows that she can’t!

That scene is devastating!

Farhadi sets up these 40 days at the beginning of the film, about when the lease is going to run out, until the end when the child has to decide who to live with. There’s this incredible disintegration of that family over that two hours. Then there’s the way that he is able to show the structural challenges that people negotiate on a daily basis and how those impact the most innocent, like an 11-year-old girl or a five-year-old girl.

In A Separation, although the female characters are confined in some way, they still possess agency. Termeh questions her father even as his choices make her suffer. You’re compelled by women’s stories in your own work.

A Separation is such an interesting story of women negotiating impossible circumstances. A lot of women still carry the domestic load in their own lives. But in A Separation, there’s the simple fact of the father not knowing how to do the laundry. What I find so thrilling is the way these women navigate these restrictions and find their own power. But until we are living in a world where everyone knows how to use the damn washing machine, we will not have reached equality!

All the women have equal screen time, they are treated with full complexity. You see women working, you see them earning money, trying to survive. He doesn’t show women as pious or vulnerable but as active and assertive. They have the agency that all human beings have.

This article was first published in the print edition of The Saturday Paper on August 20, 2022 as "Leticia Cáceres".

#Leticia Cáceres #The Saturday Paper #Neha Kale

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wonniesmile · 3 years

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❥ ellie’s first step into ‘i-land’

⤷ ellie had just finished her entrance test, making it into i-land. hopefully, she doesn’t get kicked out.

⤷ word count: 1.4k+

⤷ warning: this is all purely fictional, none of the arguments and conflicts within this series is a true reflection of the trainees. everything you read is made up from my pea-sized brain.

after a teary-eyed goodbye to the grounders, ellie and the i-landers go through the egg contraption. her mouth gapes open in awe, realizing just how high tech this building was. ellie follows the applicants into the egg, squeezing into the very back corner.

“hi, i’m sunoo.” a boy introduces himself, “i’m ellie!” she replies. she recognizes him, “you guys performed crown, right? you were really awesome up there!” sunoo smiles, oh god her heart, he’s adorable. his cheeks bubble up to show his whisker dimples and she smiles.

the egg finally stops, gaining an amazing reaction from the rest of the applicants. she gets on her tip toes to get a better view of the inside of the building. giving up, she slouches and waits for everyone to leave the contraption. “wanna be friends?” sunoo asks from beside her, she happily accepts and they giggle.

“oh my god...no this isn’t real...holy moly.” she examines the room they had just stepped into. 12 chairs were placed in a semi circle in front of the egg and right behind it was the coolest dance room she has ever set her eyes upon. banners decorated the top of the glass wall leading into the dance room. there were pillars set up around the room and steps leading down to the chairs. “how much money did they spend on this, my god!” she exclaims and sunoo replies, “probably billions...” he too was amazed at the sight of the room.

suddenly, a booming voice echoes, yet again, throughout the space, “from now on, we will start the next stage to match the capacity of the i-land. decide 4 people to eliminate by your own vote.” a bunch of “no ways!” scattered around the room, everyone in pure shock at what the next step was. “the vote for elimination will start in two hours.” ellie puts her face in her hands, worrying about what could happen. the egg lights up with the timer and she gasps. “sunoo, what do i do?” sunoo pats her head to reassure her, “it’ll be fine.” she takes off her bag and sets it down in front of a chair, following along at what the others were doing. “shall we look around the first floor first?” a trainee by the name of jay asks, everyone agrees and they start their tour.

throughout the tour, ellie was way too excited at the sight of all the new rooms to even think about the elimination process, she has got to start speaking to people sooner or later. thank god she had sunoo.

“i think we should sit down and talk.” choi seon suggests. the 17 applicants, including ellie, take seats on the contemporary couch decorating the living space. sunoo pulls her to an empty seat next to jay, while pulling up a chair for himself. seon takes the lead, explaining to everyone that by the end, they HAVE to pick 12 out of the 17 trainees sitting in this room. everyone agrees with his statements and ellie nods her head. she gets lost in her thoughts, ‘so all i have to do is pick someone based on their performance and attitude...ok got it.’ on paper, it seems easy, but ellie knows that experiencing it will be a lot harder than she thinks.

“i would like to introduce you to jake sim.” sunoo pulls ellie towards him and she waves at the boy in front of her, “jake meet ellie, ellie meet jake.” jake waves back awkwardly. “i thought you two would get along well since ellie is also from australia.” jake’s eyes light up. “seriously?!” ellie nods her head, “g’day!” ellie says in her thick aussie accent, jake whispers a little ‘wah!’ and gets excited. “where from australia are you from?” he asks, “i was born in brisbane but moved to quebec, canada at the age of like 10.” jake nods his head to show he understood, “but the aussie accent stayed!” he giggles, “i can see that, i’m from brisbane as well!” ellie claps, feeling ecstatic after meeting her second friend of the day. “so, when’d you move here?” ellie asks, “2019! i passed a global audition and here i am, better than ever.” he says. ellie giggles at his response, “i also moved here early 2019!” her smile seemed to have reached her eyes. sunoo looks at the two of them adoringly...and cluelessly, not understanding a single word being spoken at the moment, “i knew you two would get along!” he says, clapping.

the three of them went on to converse for a few more minutes before sunoo left to go talk to some other people and jake left to go use the restroom. feeling uncomfortable with being alone, she walks over to the kitchen, where ta-ki and ni-ki were both showing off their dance moves, “i want to practice now” she overhears ta-ki say in japanese. ni-ki notices ellie watching the two from afar and he mentions her to come over, “ta-ki, she speaks japanese.” he ‘whispers’ to the boy. “hello!” ellie says, while bowing, “my name’s ellie!” she slaps herself mentally, ‘too much’ she told herself. “ah, ellie.” ta-ki says, cautiously, “yep, that’s me!” ellie replies, “are you also japanese?” ta-ki asks, “um...i actually learned the language myself after watching animes...” she awkwardly laughs, “wah! you’re so good!” ta-ki sticks both his thumbs out at you. ellie thanks him. a silence fills the air and ellie plays with her fingers, “well...i’m getting a bit hungry, so im gonna go get a bite to eat!” she tells the two, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

time passed and ellie felt more and more nervous. the timer got closer and closer to 0...what is she gonna do? sunoo and jake have both been by her side, feeling more comfortable with them, who the hell was she going to vote off?

“ellie, please head to the voting room.” the voice announces, her knees felt weak, here goes nothing.

a heavy air surrounded the voting room, it almost felt like she was suffocating. the monitor in front of her seemed to mock her. the 17 applicants (including herself) faced directly in front of her. “4 people...4 people is all i need to pick.” she says to herself. carefully her fingers tap a trainee’s profile, “i’m so sorry.” it was seon, “i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry.” now all she needed to do was pick the remaining 3, “god, i can’t do this.” she leans against the screen, contemplating her next decisions. (i’ll leave the other 3 trainees she chooses up to your interpretation ;) )

rubbing her hands together, she exhales the biggest breath, “that was harder than the entrance test...” she laughs at her response, “i’m so sorry.” she says one last time, before exiting the room.”

“the first dropout received 10 votes.” the booming voice seemed to haunt her more than ever. looking down at her lap, she bites her lips in worry. “kim sunoo.” her heart drops to her feet. no, this can’t be happening. she quickly looks to her side, sunoo’s lips forming a pout as he runs a hand through his hair, “sunoo...” ellie grabs his hand and he looks back at her, “i’ll be fine.” squeezing her hand for reassurance, ellie looks back down onto her lap.

“the second dropout received 9 votes.” ellie squeezes her eyes shut, “noh sungchul.” she looks around, not really familiar with the applicant’s face. “the third dropout received 9 votes, ta-ki.” ellie’s eyes go wide, he was the last trainee she would’ve thought of. “the fourth dropout received 6 votes, ej.” ellie releases a breath. “those who got eliminated, please move to the ground now.” ellie quickly looks up at sunoo, “yes, i get it.” he says with a smile on his face. ellie’s vision gets blurry as she watches him, “please come back.” she says as he pulls her in for a hug, “i will, you know i will.” sunoo lets go and looks into her eyes, “make new friends! bye bye!” he waves. ellie watches as he steps onto the egg. she waves her farewells, looking up to stop the tears from falling (it was a successful tactic btw). she smiles at sunoo and he mirrors it, “bye bye!” she mouths and sunoo waves as the contraption closes. here we go again...

#enhypen 8th member #enhypen imagine #enhypen fic #enhypen scenario #enhypen imagines #enhypen fics #enhypen scenarios #enhypen female member #engene #enhypen #enhypen addition #kpop au #kpop fic #kpop imagines #kpop additional member #kpop addition #kpop oc

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allsassnoclass · 3 years

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okay so re: smutless long fics, I’ve tried to compile a list of fics as close to 50k words as possible since that’s the wordcount the anon cited and tbh my friends there really are not that many that I personally have read but I did my best. All fics under the cut are over 30k and have either been verified good by me or my trusted friends

delete this transmission by @anxietycalling: 67k mashton sci-fi. I reread this one recently and it’s just as amazing the second time around I very highly recommend it

“Yeah,” he says, catching sight of his reflection in the dimly reflective surface and running fingers through his hair to fluff it up. And instead of getting on the mag-train home like he wants to, he catches the northbound train to the greenlawn with Calum. “You know, I think I might not go through with it,” he tells his best friend, meaning his activation. They sit together across from the back doors of the car and watch the adverts for an upcoming showing of ‘Titanic’ at the interactive theater. While Calum sits beside him silently he gnaws on a thumbnail and wonders whether it’s too late to get his money back.

“You can’t go back on it now,” Calum tells him.

And it’s true: His payment has already been processed, the credits removed from his profile. The invoice showed up in his e-net overnight and he’d added it to his encrypted folder. “It’s just - weird,” he says, weighing each of the words on his tongue before he speaks. “To be in charge of another person like that. I don’t want that responsibility.”

I’m a Falling Star by @pixiegrl: 55k lashton fantasy, very cute and sweet

A philosopher once asked, “Are we human because we gaze at the stars or do we gaze at them because we are human?” Pointless really. “Do the stars gaze back?” Now that’s a question.

Or: Ashton’s a shop boy setting out on a adventure to find a star to help grant a wish. Luke’s a star crashed to Earth looking for some help to get back home. They’re both in for more adventure than they bargained for.

I Wanna Sleep Next to You... by milecgv: 54k malum college au. I read it over a year ago but I’m pretty sure I enjoyed it then

"Cuddle buddies, how can I help you?"

Pausing, Calum thought, he could just hang up. Get over the moment of weakness and face the rest of the night alone. He could do it. But the idea of spending one more second alone, brought a fresh pang of hurt to his heart and really, he couldn't bear it. Before his thought process could spiral out of control, the calm voice repeated itself.

"Um, yeah. I-, I need someone to-" He cut himself off because really, how was he going to phrase this?

Chuckling softly, the man on the other line interjected. "Sir, do you need someone to cuddle you?"

Shit, it was now or never. "Yeah. I-uh, I do." His voice came out so small, and he really hoped the man on the other side wouldn't pick up on how desperate he was.

~~~

Calum gets the opportunity to live out his dreams in New York City but it proves too much for him, and on a lonely night he ends up calling the professional cuddle service he swore he'd never call.

those are the only three completed fics over 50k that I personally can vouch for, but here are a few more longer ones I’ve read and I’ll link some over 50k that have gotten good reviews from my friends after those.

Destination: Perth by onlythevoid: 34k lashton

The stranger swung into the seat next to him and sighed contentedly. Luke stole a glance from under his hat. It was a boy with light-brown messy hair, reminiscent of surfers Luke saw on the beach in Brisbane - he had a t-shirt on and black jeans, and fade-tint round-frame sunglasses propped on his straight nose.

The stranger caught Luke’s eyes.

“Hey?” The stranger asked. Shouldn’t have looked at him, Luke thought. Too late.

The stranger had set his sunglasses on his head and was peering below Luke’s cap. “Dude. You look terrible. Are you okay?”

Oh, so the stranger was one of those guys. Too friendly and ever-inquisitive. Yes, Luke looked like shit; he’d been crying for an hour at a time, every few hours, and all he’d had to eat in the past two days was some wet broccoli at the hospital and a bag of chips he’d bought that morning in Brisbane, and there were bruises all up and down his right arm from a car crash he wished he’d died in.

Luke didn’t say any of that. He prayed his voice would be steady and said, “Yes. Thanks.”

The messy-haired boy did not seem convinced. After a pause, he offered, “My name’s Ashton, by the way.”

hello, hello by @clumsyclifford: 30k lashton

For one long, blinking minute, Luke stares at Ashton and wonders if he’s hallucinating. Because that’s definitely Ashton. That’s Ashton Irwin, his former best friend from Sunny Days, the show they co-starred on as children.

But it’s also definitely Ashton Fletcher, professional film actor worth many millions, possibly hundreds of millions, of dollars, standing on his doorstep, wind ruffling his hair.

Now for the fics that I haven’t read but can confidently say are good through a rigorous peer review system (aka I have friends who read them/I have read and enjoyed other works by these people)

home is wherever you are tonight by @lifewasradical: 72k lashton. this one is on my tbr, I have only heard good things, and I’ve read other things by Amanda and trust her as a writer

Life has become so mundane in the past few years that there’s very little that sends a thrill up Luke’s spine anymore. It’s that idea that had him saying yes to the idea of moving out here for a few weeks anyways: the knowledge that this was a completely new place where no one knew his name. He could be anyone he wanted to be here, within reason. He wouldn’t be seeing any of these people again after May, so what’s the harm in becoming a new person for a bit? Someone not so bogged down by the shit in their head that they can’t get out of bed some mornings. Maybe this is a step in the direction of the person Luke wants to be in the future anyways.

Or, Luke inherits a beach house on a tiny costal island that needs some work. He didn't plan on falling in love with the guy at the hardware store.

world war series by prettyluke: 58k lashton historical au. Megs really likes this one and I trust her judgement

Even after months of seeing bodies ripped apart by bullets and bombs, Ashton still isn't prepared to be ripped apart by the fragile German soldier who has seen far more than any child should.

and

Luke shows up in Britain after 25 years right in time for World War Two to start, and Ashton has been waiting for someone to yank him from his melancholy since Christmas of 1914.

i’ll keep on fighting (just to make you believe) by @squishmichael: 33k muke I have heard good things about this one, have read other works by Taylor and trust them as a writer, and also I did skim this one when it first came out and it’s good I just need to sit down and fully read while paying attention

“Hi, Mike,” Luke says softly.

Michael might have cried from hearing his voice so clearly, not through a phone line, but instead his smile just gets bigger and bigger until his cheeks hurt.

“Hey, Luke,” he replies before throwing himself at Luke, arms looping around his neck and holding tight.

“Easy there, tiger,” Luke says with a chuckle, but he hugs Michael back.

It feels so different, all the shapes and sizes wrong, yet Michael has never felt so at home, melting right into the hug. Luke still fits so perfectly against him despite everything. Because it’s them, and they’re meant to be, and Michael never wants to let go.

In which Luke is finally coming home to Australia for the summer after two years, and everything should be perfect. Michael quickly realizes nothing is.

Under the High Low Lights I See You There by @pixiegrl: 33k lashton 90s bar au. I have heard a lot of good things and I have read and enjoyed Emily’s writing

Luke moves onto cleaning the glasses, sneaking glances over at him, admiring the open blue flannel he’s wearing with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his chest in the white tank top he’s wearing and the pull of it over his muscles, the acid wash denim pants straining over his thighs. He’s attractive and Luke knows he shouldn’t be looking, shouldn’t be so obvious in his stares, but he can’t help it. The man was made to be admired.

Or: It’s the summer of 1996 in New York City when Luke meets Ashton at his bar. Things aren’t always as they seem.

He Did Ballet by @kaleidoscopeminds: 34k cake. people love this one and meg is a great writer

Like the way he danced, everything in Luke's life was perfectly placed, an allegro exercise all on beat, an enchainment with no mistakes. The last thing he needed was a distraction, something to pull his attention away and make him stumble, like losing your spot during a series of fouettés. He glances back towards the bar and sees Calum still looking in his direction. Luke catches his eye again by mistake for just a second too long and Calum smiles slowly and winks at him. Luke shivers slightly and already feels slightly unbalanced. Calum is definitely not a good idea.

Luke's life is perfectly on track. He is about to get everything he's ever wanted, to become a Principal dancer for the Royal Ballet. He's focused, determined and nothing will get in his way. Then he meets Calum, a smooth-tongued barman with dangerous eyes, and suddenly not everything's so simple.

The Sun Is Burning Down Los Angeles by @burstingsunrise: 40k cake. have heard good things and Molly is a good writer

Calum probably signed a form saying he wouldn’t fall in love with the lead singer of the band. And he really doesn’t want to. What a cliché. It’s just…people get famous for a reason. This guy got famous for all the reasons.

***

Calum moves to LA to work for 5SOS.

#fic rec #there really are not that many (good quality) smutless works over 50k #like less than I thought lol #and i think that the over 50k is key here #because i've seen other fic recs with like. 20k fics on them but that's not a TRUE longfic yknow #like none of my fics should be considered a longfic I don't think. unmute will eventually but that's not finished #anyway feel free to add any smutless fics over 50k that y'all know of that i missed!

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