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warrengrian · 2 years

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Dark clouds covered the evening sky, heavy rain falling from uptop and splashing on the ground below, many puddles forming. Houses illuminated the streets in a soft yellow glow, the sound of children running home sounding through the streets. In the distant, the big city was in view with its many tall skyscrapers and lighting, showing many people working late at a thursday night.

A pair of feet ran along the sidewalk in the rain, loud splashing as he moved at a quick pace, sobs falling from his lips as he shook. His eyes were red and puffy, cheeks covered in tears and bruises, noise bleeding and knuckles bloody. He was detatched, his brain only telling him to run to his friends house to get to safety. Why to safety? He forgot. His brain shut off everything. He just kept running and running, ignoring any pain in his body as he did.

After awhile he stood infront of the house in question, leaning with his shaky hands against the door while he tried to catch his breath but he couldnt. He was too overwhelmed. After a few seconds he quickly knocked at the door despite his pain in his knuckles, wincing and another sob leaving him at his overworked body. God he was tired. He just wanted to collapse.

After a minute the door swung open and his eyes met soft ones before they quickly turned into worry and shock. "Oh shit..Alex what happened?" Jasper asked but Alex couldnt hear much. He felt his hands being enveloped, shivering and wincing a little before he leaned into the warmth. Tears still were rolling down his bruised cheeks, occasional hiccups and sobs leaving him. He was quickly lead inside and to the couch.

He could hear a gasp before he was approached by another person but he couldnt tell who. Maybe one of Jaspers parents? Probably. After a bit he was sat down on the couch and he could feel more weight pushing the couch down beneath him before a comforting arm wrapped around his shouldersm

He sobbed softly, leaning in and burying his face in the shoulder of Jasper, glasses pushed askew. But he voiced no sound. He couldnt. No way he could talk about what happened. He never did. But it never got this bad so maybe he had to. But he cant and he wouldnt.

He could hear noises coming from the room next door, but not much. All he heard were was the rain outside and just now he realized how soaked and cold he was. Alex sneezed, shivering as he scooted more into the warm embrace.

He heard a small sigh next to him before Jasper got up, triggering a sudden panic in himself. He franctically clung to his hand and arm, sobbing as he tried to pull him back next to him. He didnt wanna be alone. The thought of being alone scared him. He felt Jasper move back and kiss the top of his head before slowly removing his hand.

"I'll be back in a second Alex, m'kay? I just wanna grab a blanket, towel and maybe some dry clothes for you. My mom is in the room right next door you'll be fine." He assured him and slowly, Alex let go and sunk into the couch, nervously picking at his black nailpolish and scars that dusted his hands.

What were minutes felt to him like hours. Before Jasper returned in mom came in and knelt infront of him with a soft smile. He shifted uncomfortably, anxiously chewing at his lip as the woman infront of him held out her hands. He noted they were soft and long with manicured nails.

"I need you to show me your hands Alex so I can clean out and bandage your knuckles." She requested calmly, a first aidkit sitting next to her. He stared at it and then at it hands, gaze shifting to her hands. Slowly he moved his hands over before dropping them in hers, continueing to shake.

She held both of his hands with one of hers, the other hand reaching down to grab some cotton and a bottle of antiseptic spray. She put the cotton in her lap and held the bottle, looking up at him. "Im gonna spray some on and its gonna hurr quite a bit probably but I need you to stay still, alright?"

He nodded in response and as soon as the spray hit his open wounded knuckles, he flinched and hissed in pain. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks again, lip starting to bleed from the force he was biting on it. He hated this he hated it all he just wanted to go to bed or see his mom. Sometimes he was mad at her too for leaving them so suddenly but she couldnt have prevented that accident.

He hiccuped, more tears rolling down his cheeks which left them burning from the slightly open bruises. Jaspers mom frowned a little, trying to finish it up quickly before pulling out the bandages. She wrapped them in a professional manner around his knuckles before letting go of his hands, smiling a little. "All done."

Alex stared at his hands, rubbing at the spot where she held his hands. He sneezed and as if on cue, Jasper walked in. "You can change in the bathroom if you'd like. Dont want you catching a cold." He spoke as he walked over, gently taking one of his hands. Alex visibly eased once that familiar warmth returned, slowly nodding before getting up and following to the bathroom.

Alex stepped inside the bathroom and put the fresh clothes on the sink counter, staring at himself in the mirror. His eyes and cheeks were still read, covered in dried tears. His broken glasses sat on his small and round noise, stained from the rain. He wasnt wearing his beanie either so you could see how greasy his hair had become after days of neglecting self care, dripping from being wet, even less selfcare with his face which was heavily effected by acne. His lips were bitten and had dried blood on them, same as his nose, and small scars littered over his cheeks, barely visible to the unknowing eye.

He sighed, slowly pulling off his hoodie, feelinf his necklace dangle. Once he pulled it off he was back to staring at himself. His binder sat over his chest which was then taped for extra pressure. Very unsafe, as he read online, but its how he fought dysphoria the best. He subconciously scratched at his scarred wrists, wincing before he finally grabbed a towel to dry his hair. After a few minutes of rubbing furiously at it to dry it as quick as possible he pulled on the sweater and then pulled off his pants, changing into the pair of sweatpants.

Soon after he stepped outside the bathroom, blinking a little as he had cleaned his glasses finally and could now see more clearly. He looked back into the bathroom and pointed at the pile of his wet clothing, Jasper fortunatly understanding what he meant. "We can wash them so you can take them back home. Do you wanna go to my room?" He suggested, slightly lowering his head to look at Alex.

Alex never quite realized the height difference they had. Either Jasper was tall for his age or Alex was small for his age. Most likely the later seeing how hes 16 and not even past 170cm. But he also liked Jasper being taller. He always felt safe with him like that big brother who would protect him from anything, though maybe he didnt see him as big brother. He shook the thought away, nodding before following the other to his room.

Once lead inside, he quickly seated himself on his favorite bean bag chair, curling in on himself. The chair was extremely comfy and he could feel himself sinking into it which got a relaxed sigh out of him. Maybd he could live in the bean bag chair, though thatd be silly seeing as he had to go to school and try to do the minimum of selfcare to not collapse.

His gaze shifted upwards and locked onto Jaspers eyes, who smiled before sitting down across from him into the other bean bag chair. "Do you wanna sleep or spend some time? Its only 6:30pm so maybe thats too early for you." He asked, leaning back and crossing his legs in a scissoring form.

Alex thought though he quickly drifting off thinking about other things. Like how Jaspers cheeks had a soft warm reddish tint to them or how purplish blue his eyes were. A habit he did when he got lost in thinking- he started looking at every little detail of something. It was also a good distraction and sometimes he could read a persons facial expression very well like the twitch of a lip or nose wrinkling in disgust.

He hummed in response, not giving a definite answer before curling in even more himself, head slowly slipping past the top hole of the sweater which was clearly a few sizes to big for him. He gently rocked back and forth, coming up with random music in his head to distract himself.

It only lasted a few minutes before Jasper scooted closer and gently took his hands, rubbing his thumb carefully over his knuckles. Alex slowly opened his eyes, blinking at the sudden intrusion of light before resting his view on Jaspers eyes. They stayed like that for a bit, Alex able to feel himself melt at the comforting touch. Jasper somehow always knew how to calm him down.

"Alex could you..," He paused, his gaze shifting before settling at Alex hands, a soft frown on his lips, "Could you tell me what happened? You dont have to go into detail but..I just wanna help you." He spoke in a soft and calm manner, trying not to panic the other again. He knew Alex had issues at home but he never knew to which extend he always refused to talk about it when he showed up with fresh bruises, though he had a slight assumption about what was happening behind those closed doors.

A lump got stuck in his throat as he tried to speak, tears welling up in his eyes again. He was scared to talk about it. Always told to never mention it or he would lose Toby and Sadie and he didnt wanna put them through more pain than their already expierencing. He was their older brother after all he needed to protect them.

His bottom lip quivered, a sob leaving him which was followed by another and then another before he broke out on a full fleshed fit, gripping tightly onto Jaspers hands and chewed off fingernails digging into his skin though he didnt seem to mind.

He slowly inched closer before enveloping Alex in a hug, hushing him as he rubbed small patterns into his back. Alex only buried his face more into his shoulder, glasses knocked completly askew but he couldnt care less. His hands gripping onto the front of Jaspers shirt, bunching up the fabric with shaky hands.

It took quite a while before he settled down again, now laying limp in Jaspers arms and shaky breathing as he nestled into his arms. He reached a shaky hand up to fix his glasses, carefully inching back into his bean bag chair before staring at Jasper. He took a few deep breaths, fidgeting nervously with his hands.

"M...my dad caught me wanting to get high while he was...really, really drunk so..," He trailed off, gaze slowly falling low as his brain tried to block out as much of the traumatic expierence as possible, "I think he..hurt me?" He murmured, brows furrowing a little. "I cant remember a lot the last thing I remember is running here.." He huffed, closing his eyes as he sunk once again into the bean bag, eyes peeling open again to be met with the worried face from his friend.

"Alex..," He started, moving forward to hold his hands which caused Alex go flinch. Jasper immediatly pulled his hands back, setting them in his own lap, "You should've said something sooner." He finished, visibly biting the inside of his cheek at how worried he was for his friend. Now it made sense why he seemed to alway be high- so he wouldnt be too spaced out to acknowledge anything. He frowned more at that realization, sighing.

"He..said child services would take Toby and Sadie away if I said anything..I promised her to protect them even if their my step siblings." He mumbled, voice quivering at the mention of her. Her, yeah. He promised he would be the big brother they deserved.

His thoughts suddenly drifted to him. Sometimes he wondered where he was and what he was doing. Why he left them and if he hated Alex's mere existance. Or maybe he wanted to see him but he couldnt since he had no way of contacting him- after all he changed his legal name 2 years ago. At the memory of his deadname he shuddered. He hated it a lot. It was a pretty name yeah but he hated ir with every fiber of his being. Especially with how his step dad sometimes adressed him with it to spite him. He truly hated that man. At first he was giddy because he would have a dad and siblings but all turned to dust. Maybe at some point he can try contacting him just to hear what he has to say. Maybe.

He blinked when he felt warmth enveloping his hands again, his gaze sitting on his hands. "Do you want some water? Or chocolate milk?" Jasper asked, deciding to change the subject. He was glad he atleast knew what remotely happened. "Or I could make you a sandwhich if your hungry." He added, a smile setting on his lips.

Alex was never one to indulge in a lot of food, but chocolate milk did sound nice. "Can I get warm choco milk?" He asked, a slight, but on his skin very visible, soft pink hue dusting his cheeks. "With a straw if you have any my..hands are shaky." He murmured the last part, barely audible but enough for Jasper to hear who nodded, pushing himself up.

"Alright, I'll be back in a few minutes. You can make yourself comfy on my bed if you want or roam around my room." He said and with that he left again.

Alex carefully pushed himself up, wincing at the strain in his knuckles, rubbing them gently. He strolled around the others room before dropping down infront of a row of video games, pulling his legs into a scissor sitting position. He gently moved his finger tips along the many games, mumbling the names under his breath to himself, of course not knowing any of them. Besides whenever he visited hes barely touched video games in his life. He usually stuck to books and documenteries he saw on their TV, occasionally trying to solve a murder along a 2 hour murder documentry with his notepad. Quite different than other teenagers who are going on parties this age.

He looked over the row of movies next, pulling one out he had seen on TV once. He found it quite interesting with the plot of trying to stop an apocalypse though it was also very stereotypical with its hetero romances. He huffed before he slid it back into the shelf. He crawled over to the bed and pulled himself up onto it before curling up.

He pushed himself up with his feet, letting his head dip into the pillow. He sighed in content, turning on his side as he hugged himself. He inhaled, a blush creeping up his neck and a smile spreading on his lips. The pillow smelt like Vanilla, maybe from Jaspers hairwash. He felt himself going giddy, rubbing his cheek into the pillow.

Okay maybe he could be weird but it smelled so nice and he liked Jasper a lot. Yeah he probably liked Jasper alot. But he didnt bother thinking about that at the moment.

He quickly sat up when he heard footsteps approaching, rubbing at his face to somehow rid of his blush. God was he weird. Jasper opened the door and closed it behind himself, a small smile on his lips. He walked over and handed Alex his hot choco, who accepted it in a silent manner.

They stayed like that in silence for awhile, just enjoying eachothers presence. Alex sipped at his drink, nestled into Jaspers side who was scrolling through his phone. After awhile he put down his cup and looked at Jasper, lips pressed into a thin line.

Jasper looked up and put his phone down, tilting his head slightly. "Do you wanna go to bed now?" He asked and was met with a nod. They both inched back before pulling the blanket up, comfortably nestled beneath the sheets.

They've done this before. They had a few sleepovers before and quickly realized they didnt care sharing a bed and it made everything less complicated and more comfortable. But Alex blushed nontheless, covering his face with the blanket.

"Goodnight, Alex." Jasper whispered, closing his eyes. Alex put his glasses on the bedside table before laying back down beneath Jasper, mumbling an almost inaudible goodnight.

#oc #goofy story #its just angst #and gays #and fluff

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askdragonagecompanions · 5 years

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Blackwall falling for a male inquisitor, possibly coming to terms with his bisexuality (non gif preferred)?

Of course!

Blackwall has always found both men and women attractive, but he never acted on his feelings towards men. He always felt he had to play his role, to be what was expected of him. Especially after everything that happened he felt even more so that he had to play his role of Warden Blackwall and he isolated himself.

For a while after meeting the Inquisitor Blackwall thought his feelings for the man were just admiration and hope to stop that tear in the sky. The man was hard working, level headed, great in battle, of course he admired him.

Blackwall is always a little oblivious to his own feelings, so it’s only when the Inquisitor starts flirting with him that Blackwall realized it was not just simple admiration for a great fighter.

First is confusion, why would the Inquisitor be interested in him of all people? He’s fine with the Inquisitor being into men its just that why him? Dorian’s quite attractive, and so is the Iron Bull.

Next is guilt because Blackwall doesn’t feel that he deserves such affection. The Inquisitor is having feelings for the act Blackwall is putting on. If he knew what Blackwall had done, who he really was, would the Inquisitor even want to be with him anymore?

He pulls away for a little while.

Blackwall doesn’t feel like he deserves such affection, that the Inquisitor deserves someone better and because honestly he’s scared.

Blackwall has never followed or acted on his feelings towards another man, and to have the feelings reciprocated scares him. He doesn’t want to mess up. He doesn’t want people to look down on the Inquisitor...

It’s when the Inquisitor comes to him again that he has to make a choice. When Blackwall pulled away he didn’t even think about how it would make the Inquisitor feel, so when he came to Blackwall apologizing and asking if he read the situation wrong Blackwall was stunned for a moment. Then he felt like a complete idiot.

He assures the Inquisitor that, “No! No, you didn’t read it wrong at all... Maker I’m bad at this...” And now he’s blushing and can’t look the Inquisitor in the eyes. “I... do very much enjoy your company and your advances...”

He expected the Inquisitor to laugh, be mad at him, be quiet, something anything. He didn’t really know what to expect so he prepared himself for the worse. He had, after all, made the Inquisitor feel like he had done something wrong.

The Inquisitor does none of those things and in fact gives Blackwall a gentle smile and goes “Then would you be alright if I kissed you?”

Blackwall can’t really form words and he’s sure his cheeks are as red as a tomato so he just nods, not trusting his mouth to say anything intelligent.

The kiss is gentle and sweet and it makes his heart flutter in his chest. He feels like a teen kissing his first crush all over again. When they pull away he can’t stop smiling and neither can the Inquisitor and Blackwall realizes he wants to make sure that the other smiles whenever possible.

He doesn’t exactly know what to do next. He’s never been in a relationship with a man, so he goes seeking advice. First he asks Sera, she giggles and pats him on the back. They talk for a while, tells him to trust his gut, but to go ask Bull or Dorian about shagging. Blackwall’s face goes red but he can’t help a little chuckle as they have been drinking a little.

Bull actually finds him first, having overheard his and Sera’s little conversation. Blackwall has never blushed so much, but he does... appreciate the advice Bull had to offer, though his face turns red every time he looks at the little vial of oil he had been given. Blackwall doubted it would ever get that far between them.

Eventually he gets the courage to ask Dorian for advice. Sera told him to trust his gut, he doubted he would use Bull’s advice, but he still had no idea how he was supposed to go about courting the Inquisitor. Did he get the man flowers and gifts still? Was it too soon to hold hands or take the man out on a date?

After some expected teasing Dorian was actually quite helpful, if not a little overwhelming. “Don’t worry big man, just don’t try to overthink things and maybe take a few more baths alright?”

The more time he and the Inquisitor spend together the more his feelings grow. At first he’s nervous about holding hands or kissing. It’s just ingrained in him, but slowly that starts to melt away. The Inquisitor is well the Inquisitor. Messing with them is insanity and quite frankly Blackwall loves holding his hand or giving him little kisses on the cheek or hand.

He carves little figurines for the Inquisitor, and when they’re on missions he puts the Inquisitor’s safety over his own. Blackwall is quite tough and it takes a lot for him to get knocked down, so he likes to use his skills to protect the inquisitor especially since they almost always end up fighting demons, dragons, bears, bandits.

The closer he grows to the Inquisitor the more his guilt begins to grow. He feels selfish, but it changed. At first he felt selfish for indulging in his feelings for another man, but he realized that was just idiotic. He loved the Inquisitor and that wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. The Inquisitor is an amazing man with a kind heart. The reason his guilt didn’t go away was because the Inquisitor was falling in love with a man who didn’t exist. Blackwall was just an act, a persona to hide the terrible things that he had done.

Blackwall never considered himself smart. He knew he had to set things right and the guilt truly was eating him alive after their first night together. He left his letter and apologized so much. He would be revealing himself, his true self. It felt only fitting after the Inquisitor had laid himself bare the previous night. He deserved to know the truth of the man he was supposedly in love with.

Blackwall was sure that the Inquisitor would despise him, but it needed to be done. No more lies. Besides it wouldnt’ be the first time Blackwall ruined his life with bad decisions.

What he never expected was the Inquisitor to still take him back.

With everything in the open Blackwall truly pours himself into the relationship and honestly tries to change himself for the better. He wants to be the man the Inquisitor thought he was. And he feels so lucky to still even have the chance to be at the Inquisitor’s side.

He’s still nervous and easily flustered at times, but Blackwall truly loves the Inquisitor and he helped Blackwall accept himself. Blackwall wasn’t a good man, but that doesn’t mean he can’t change and make it better now. It’s never too late too change.

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dai #dai headcanons #Blackwall #warden blackwall #dai blackwall #bi blackwall

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sugarpun-fairy · 5 years

Text

BEING A FAN AND DATING JOEL PIMENTEL - HEADCANNON

A/n: i was just fooling around w my mate @brattybombshell when this came up LAST MONTH I’M LATE FOR EVERYTHING SO PLS FORGIVE ME

also this is huge so yeah, enjoy urselves

-x-

He meets you on the meet&greet

You're all shy and nervous and almost pass out too like the girl from that vid and he's enchanted

P.S. it's your first show ever

And you bring everyone a letter with a small gift in it

The boys joke with you the entire time, trying to make you loosen up a little

You notice some of Joel's looks at you but you're like

Nah, fam, me? Nop.

But the thing is that YES, FAM, YOU!

He's curious about you, your laugh and puns (that are just worse than Erick's)

He looks like a KID trying to find you when he's on stage

But he can't

You were too far for him to see you and oh if he could bring you closer (like to his side) HE WOULD

After the show he's asking the whole staff to find you

They can't

So he nicknames you Cinderella

You stole his heart and left without letting any traces

But he remembers your letter

He search for it like a dog searching a bone it dug on the backyard

He wants anything he can find about you, he NEEDS

A name, an address, an user

Homeboy is SO relieved when he finds your letter

When he reads it and see your number there? He's on the clouds

He could swear he wouldnt complain about ANYTHING ever AGAIN

Well, if you answered to a number from another country at least

He calls you

He text you

And you're like WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING MATE

That's when you pick up and he's like "hey it's me Joel"

You almost faint right there

Let's say that the show was on a Saturday and he's calling you at like

3 AM

And he's like PLEASE COME MEET ME I NEED TO KNOW MORE ABOUT YOU and you're like FUCK

Your flight is booked to the afternoon

You dont have this much time

The two of you don't even sleep

He sends a car to pick you up and you're a bit scared but SO excited (bc let's be honest the world is rlly dangerous for girls/women)

You didnt had time to put on makeup, just a quick shower so when you meet him you're all "oh boy I should have dressed up better why didnt I listened to my mom" AND HE LOOKS AT YOU AND HIS EYES FUCKING SHINE

That's when you stop, freeze and thinks

"Fuck

He's too much sand for my paper truck"

Then you see he's wearing the choker you gave him

And you melt

He's like "do you know a place we can go?" And you're like "I DONT LIVE HERE FUCK HE MUST THINK IM PATHETIC AND MUST BE REGRETTING CALLING ME HERE”

He finds it adorable how your body language shows your nervousness

You can't keep eye contact

But then you do

And then he's like "fuck" and you're like "fuck"

And he's like "if you dont feel uncomfortable we could just get some snacks and stay at my room and talk about life" and you're so nervous you just shake your head

You see the amount of letters and gifts in his bed and you're like

"IM REALLY HERE HOLY FUCK"

He doesnt make any move if he feels you're too uncomfortable

So by the sunrise you're both sitting beside the other eating something from room service and he's listening to you rambling about your life

(He finds it adorable how distracted you get when you're talk and how sometimes you mix languages)

Then you stop talking and just sits back

He's like omfgwhatdidido

And you're like imtalkingtoomuchheprollythinksimboring

You two stand there in silence and you look at the window

Sun is rising

His window is pointed straight at its direction

Mate

You love that boy

But theres nothing more magical than the sun rising so you just go

And he goes after you

Mate it's beautiful

The sun, all the colors

But hes not looking at it

Hes looking at how even more beautiful your smile gets when the sun hits your face

"I'm sorry can I kiss you?" He snaps

You're pretty sure you heard it wrong

"What? Wait really? Yes please!"

He nods and laugh

You're smaller so he's leaning down and suddenly you're so nervous YOU BURST OUT LAUGHING

Your next thought is "I fucked up" so yeah you cry a bit

You can't lie and say you hadn't cried already because the whole thing was SO UNREAL

The show

The meet

Being there with him

When he tries again it works

His hands are around your face then on your nape

You dare to put your on his shoulder and his hair

His hair is SOFT

You guys keep touch

Using instagram since you doesnt have iOS (you tell him you hate it and won't ever trade your lil samsung, he gives you one anyway just bc he can)

You're not sure how to feel about it

First you're on the show

Second you're kissing him at sunrise on his hotel room

Third he's sending you gifts just so you can talk more?????????

Anxiety kicks in OF COURSE it's way too much

He stops telling he's single on interviews

The boys tease him about it all the time

Talking about his Cinderella

There's a whole move on Twitter to find out who she is

You know who she is

Sometimes you're insecure

About his career

About you two

About the fandom

About EVERYTHING

He's always reassuring you about how he feels and doesnt care about anything else

(Your answer is always the same: anything else but music)

You're scared you'll start annoying him w your insecurities

So you start talking to the other boys too about it

Guess who slips that Joel wants to take you to tour with them when you can?

its hard to convince your parents, your vacation from work and college are not at the same time and you're like FUCK

the tour ends and you cant go and you're feeling so down

until he texts you saying he'll go to your country to see you

WE GOT POSTS EVERYWHERE "Is he going to see his so called Cinderella? So that means they met during the tour? Make your bets everyone"

it's crazy

you spend the first nights with him at the hotel before going to your house

the feeling of him being too much for you hits you everyday

gets worse when he goes to meet your family and youre like oh boy

you're so nervous you almost throw up

and everyone be like IM SORRY WAHT and you be like WE NEVER DID ANYTHING STOP RIGHT THERE

he spends that night at your house

its you, him, and your pet

and when you wake up you starts crying because you still can't believe

he also loves to hear you sing, even tho HE'S the singer there

its just a thing he likes, how you try your best even if you hate your own voice

a couple days before he goes back home he's like "get your passport i want you to go with me" and youre like "SO IF I TELL YOU ITS NOT THAT FAST WHAT WILL U DO"

and he just goes "JUST GET UR PASSPORT I HAVE A COUPLE MONTHS OFF AND I WANT YOU TO MEET MY FAMILY TOO"

At moment you're thinking if you could just leave everything behind and go live w him

part of you wants to

part of you is like "WHAT IF HE GETS TIRED OF YOU AND LEAVE YOU AND YOULL BE ALONE IN ANOTHER COUNTRY WHAT WILL YOU DO"

U insecure again

he talks to your parents, assure them you'll be fine

so you go

at first is just a short time

no one will die because of a little vacation right?

WRONG you're both destroyed when you have to go home

what do to? what to do?

stay? go? (SHOULD I STAY OR SHOULD I GO TANANANANA sorry)

you know he wants to ask you to stay, he knows he cant ask you that

you turn to him and be like "if i find a job here and have the proper documents ill stay" bc you dont wanna be a burden and want to have your own independence too

also california im not sure if he does live in california but for fictional purposes the answer is yes

one of your dreams

so you stay

he finds a small ap for you to share and his mom helps you find a nice job

when you're all set he turns to you and be like "i want to make us public" and you kinda just freezes right there

you've been together for almost a year now so why not? you end up going for it

-x-

taglist: @southside-sweets @batboys-and-other-messes @imaginesandideas @brattybombshell

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soybeantree · 5 years

Text

blossom

pairing: mark x reader genre/warning: singleparent!reader, teacher!mark; some soft shit word count: 7k description: soft mark as your son’s teacher. a/n: buckle in buttercups

“Do you ever feel like your life is spiraling down a black hole headed nowhere?” “No. Is that an adult thing?”

The young boy sitting across the table from you asks, pausing in his breakfast consumption. Sighing, you put down your spoon and shake your head. “No, I think it’s a me thing. Your mom is a mess. Have I apologized to you lately that you ended up with me as a mom?” The young boy chuckles and shakes his head. “You’re a great mom and a beautiful mess.” He says as he stands up and clears his dishes, heading for the sink. “I’m a blessed mess.” You call over your shoulder as you stand up. “It’s the only way I could end up with a kid like you.” You add as you follow your son’s example and place your dishes in the sink. As you start to rinse them off, you catch sight of the clock. “Oh, shhh-It’s time to go!” You save yourself, shooting your son a smile. The kid shakes his head. “Swear jar.” “I didn’t say it.” “Swear jar.” His arms cross his chest, and his feet stand firm. Your cause is lost. “Fine. Go grab your jacket and backpack. And hurry about it!” You call as he disappears into his room. Heading towards the annoyingly large glass jar which sits in the far corner of your living, you dump all of your change into it. The jar is nearly full, and the sight makes you cringe. The past few weeks at work have been stressful, leading to your statement at breakfast and the full jar. While you hope the trend won’t continue, reality leads you to believe otherwise. You do need to find a better outlet for your stress though, or you’re going to end up broke. “Mom!” “Coming.” You rush to the entryway, slipping on shoes before dashing out the door your son is so kindly holding open. His school is close by, the reason you chose the apartment. He insists that being ten he is old enough to walk to school by himself. You insist that being twenty-eight you are not old enough for him to walk to school on his own. You plan on living a long and healthy life, and if something happens to him, you’ll either end up dead from grief or in jail for vengeance. So the two of you walk to school together. These couple minutes are sacred to you. With all the stress and demands of work, time with your son is scarce, so you take advantage of every minute you have. “Alright, what do I need to know about this coming week?” You ask as you head down the street. Your son walks silently beside you, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. “What is it?” You ask at his hesitation. “We are currently in a full honesty, no judgment zone. Didn’t you see the sign we just passed?” You gesture over your shoulder to the non-existent sign behind you. He cracks a smile and shakes his head. “There was no sign mom.” “Okay, but my point still stands.” Taking a deep breath, he starts. “I want to make a deal with you.” His eyes dart to yours, and you nod urging him to continue. “If you say yes, you can take back all the money in the swear jar.” The money in the swear jar is designated for charity. You two had come up with this deal when he was in first grade and was sent to the principle’s office for swearing in class. You had been mortified but were even more mortified when you realized it was your fault. That day you had told him that swearing in school was not okay and promised that you would stop swearing, and that ff he caught you swearing, then you would put all the change in your wallet into the swear jar. Once it was full, you would take all the money and donate it to the charity of his choice. While you hadn’t been able to keep your promise as diligently as you would have liked, you two had donated quite a bit to charities. “Kid, that money-” He holds up his hand though, and you zip your lips. It’s his time to talk. “At the end of the month, we’re going to have a choir concert.” Everything within you plummets as your mind follows the path he’s laying out. “Minnie’s mom was supposed to help with the costumes and the set, but she broke her arm and can’t. Mr. Mark can’t do it all by himself, and he asked if any other parent’s might be able to help. I know you’re busy with work, but no other parent’s can help and if Mr. Mark doesn’t get any help then we can’t do the concert and-and…” His shoulders heave, and his eyes start to glisten, and you stare back at him helpless. Ever since that first day when the doctor placed this tiny bundle in your arms, you’ve been helpless whenever you look in those eyes. “Okay.” “Okay? You’ll do it!” He bounces on his feet, smiling up at you so brightly, and you know if you could you would give this kid the world. “Yes, yes, I’ll do it.” “Mr. Mark will be so happy.” He beams as he starts to skip down the street. “Mhm.” You nod as you follow him at a more moderate pace. Mr. Mark. Mark Tuan was your son’s first grade teacher, the one who had sent him to the office for swearing. He was there when you came to pick him up. Your son had been in tears. He hadn’t realized what he said was a bad word. Mommy said it all the time. He didn’t want to be a bad kid. Mark had sat beside him, telling him that just because he said a bad word didn’t mean that he was a bad kid. People made mistakes. He just needed to learn from his mistake, so that way he didn’t make them again. Standing down the hall watching the interaction, your mind was a war of emotions, the chief being mortification. You were mortified that you were teaching your son to cuss; that because of you, he felt this way about himself; and that Mark witnessed it all. The second emotion was gratitude. You were grateful that Mark was the one who witnessed it, that he would sit with your son and comfort him, and that he had somehow found a way back into your life. Fate is funny, you think as you give your son a kiss and send him off to school. While the goodbye embarrasses him as it would any ten year old boy, he lets you do it every morning. Because, as he has told you so many times, his love for you is greater than any embarrassment. You hope it’s something he learned from you. That cussing isn’t the only thing you’ve taught him. Your love for him is greater than any embarrassment. You wish it was the same for your family. Heading towards the nearby bus stop, your mind wanders through old memories. You were young when you had your son. Fresh out of high school, you found out you were pregnant. You were unwed and unemployed with only your family to lean on, except you couldn’t. They wouldn’t let you. Coming back from another unsuccessful job hunt, you had found a suitcase on your parent’s doorstep with all your clothes in it. Your father wasn’t pleased with what had happened you could tell that by his stony silence and your mother was always looking away when you entered a room, but they were your parents. They should love you more than any embarrassment. You had stood on their doorstep, pounding on the door and screeching until night fell. But the door never opened. They probably weren’t even home. They had kicked you out and fled. You collapsed against the door, staring at the sliver of moon which hung in the sky. That’s when Mark came. You had known Mark your whole life. He lived down the street from you and was by far the coolest kid on the street. All the boys wanted to be his friend and all the girls wanted to be his girl-friend. He was your first crush and your first love. Being two years older than you, he had already gone off to college. So when he came and crouched down in front of you, you were shocked to see him. He had undoubtedly heard you screaming, the whole neighborhood had, but he didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t ask about it or offer any false words of hope. Instead, he held out a hand and asked if you wanted to grab something to eat. As you board the bus, you smile at the memory. His face had shone with kindness, but all you wanted was to tell him to fuck off and leave you alone and stop trying to be nice. With him there, you couldn’t curl up in a little ball and cease existing. But you said none of that. You couldn’t. While the thing inside you was probably no bigger than a grain of rice, it needed you. Without you, it couldn’t survive, and you refused to abandon it. Your love for it would be greater than any embarrassment. So you took Mark’s hand and let him pull you up. He grabbed your suitcase and, with his hand still wrapped around yours, started walking down the street. He did all the talking which was shocking because he never talked. Mark was always the quiet, mysterious type, but tonight he was a fountain of words. He told you about how he was studying to be a teacher and about his roommate Jinyoung who was also pursuing education. The two of you headed to a local restaurant, and over a steaming bowl of soup, he continued to speak. Eventually, you started talking too and joking. He never asked about the pregnancy or made any comments about it. For one night, you were able to just be you. After dinner, he offered you his sister’s room for the night. Being older than him, she had already moved out. Hesitant, you declined, but he assured you his parents wouldn’t mind. Having no other options, you relented and agreed. His parents didn’t mind. They welcomed you in with open arms, showing you the spare room. A towel lay folded neatly on the bed with little bottles of shampoo and soap. After a warm shower, you laid down and fell asleep instantly. The next morning, you woke before any of them. During your shower the night before, you had accepted the truth. The life you had lived before came to an end when the second pink line appeared. Your parents made it very clear you no longer had a place here, and you couldn’t live of the Tuan’s kindness forever. Before they could wake and talk you out of your decision, you left with only a note to thank them for their kindness. Life was hell after that. Working, raising a kid, and putting yourself through college, you wonder how you did it. There were lots of tears and sleepless nights, but you survived. After all your hard work, you were able to land a good job and send your son to a good school. He loved his school, especially his teacher Mr. Mark. It wasn’t until that first parent-teacher conference that you realized Mr. Mark was your Mark. That had been a fun night, followed by more fun nights. Over the school year at different functions, you and Mark had filled each other in on those years since you left. He regaled you with the tales of him and his friends, and you allowed him a glimpse of your hell. Feelings you had thought long dead floated to the surface. They weren’t the same though. The infatuation of a young girl had matured into respect and appreciation and desire. For a time, you entertained your childhood fantasies. Then your son swore. Standing there watching Mark comfort him, you were thrown back to that day on your parents doorstep. After all those years and all that hell, you were still the same girl who needed Mark to step in and help her up. You couldn’t face him after that. The feelings which had surfaced, you forced back down. Your son graduated to second grade and your interactions with Mark dwindled until your son decided to join the school choir. For years, the school choir had been run by a kind old man who had lost his hearing at some point during his tenure. No one had the heart to tell him though. But, before your son’s third grade, the old man announced that that year would be his last. Mark, a music minor, was unanimously elected as his successor, and your son was one of the first kids to sign up the next year. Now, you see Mark on a weekly basis. Thus far you have successfully limited your interactions to polite greetings and small talk. Stepping off the bus, you acknowledge that moving forward this will no longer be the case. The two of you will be working closely until the concert. The feelings you sunk, stir at the prospect, but you force them to still. Mark has always been a pleasant fantasy, but you live in the real world and have dealt with too much shit to indulge in fantasies.

Later that week, you sit hunched over a sewing machine as you curse under your breath. The damn bobbin keeps messing up, and if you have to re-thread the needle one more time, you’re likely to shove the whole thing off the table. Believing the school would have adequate equipment for the task at hand, you left your beautifully functioning sewing machine at home. The mistake would not be repeated again. Next time, you would bring it.

Needle re-threaded, you run the cloth through the machine, only to hear the whir and feel the tell-tale tug. Before the machine can meet the floor, long hands pull it out of your reach. Glancing up, you find Mark standing above you. A smile tugs at his lips, but he forces them to still. He wants to appear serious. “Would you be able to help me with the set pieces? I’ve finished cutting them out. I just need someone a little more artistic to paint them.” Sewing had offered you the opportunity to distance yourself from Mark, but if you spend any more time with that machine, you’ll end up owing the school a new machine. Maybe that’s what you should do with the swear jar money this time around. You muse, chuckling to yourself. “What?” Mark’s eyes catch yours. “Nothing, I was just- it’s nothing. I’ll just get started on those set pieces.” You stand heading over to the cut-outs. The less talking you do the easier all of this will be. You grab a nearby paint brush and bucket and begin outlining the branches. Mark settles next to a fence as an uncomfortable silence falls. “Do you mind if I put on some music?” Mark’s voice breaks the silence. Your brush streaks across the tree leaving an ugly stain. You hadn’t expected him to speak. Determined to escape the awkwardness, you had filled your mind with everything you had to do for work. “No, I don’t mind.” You clear your throat. “It’s fine.” Music starts as you try to fix your mistake. The two of you continue to work, as the music pushes the silence back. However, the awkwardness remains and grows worse as the night drags on. You continually check your phone, hoping hours have ticked by. But only minutes have passed. “Mom!” Your sons voice enters the room, and you glance up from the bush you’re working on. A relieved smiled slips on your face. Today’s torture is coming to an end. “Hey, sweetie. How was studying at Minnie’s?” You ask as you start to gather up the brushes and paint. Not able to physically help with the concert, Minnie’s mom had offered to watch your son while you worked. “I finished all my homework.” He beams. “You did? Good job, kiddo.” “Yes…” A glint appears in his eyes. Pushing off the floor, you cross your arms and nod for him to continue. “Since I finished all my homework, I was wondering if we could go and get some ice cream.” He fixes you with those eyes, and you tell yourself that he earned a treat. You’re not being a pushover. “Okay,” He fist bumps the air before you can finish, “We can get ice cream.” You chuckle as he proceeds to do the dorky victory dance he learned from you. “But first, help me clean up. We don’t want to leave this mess for Mr. Mark.” “Oh, Mr. Mark,” he turns to his teacher, “do you want to get ice cream with us?” The invitation should have been obvious. You should have waited to agree until after you left. Now the invitation hangs in the air, and you can’t face Mark. You can barely face your son for fear he will read too much in your expression. Smoothing your face, you turn to Mark with a simple smile. “You’re more than welcome to come with us.” “Sure, I can always eat ice cream.” He returns the smile. Drawing on a strength you didn’t even know you possessed, you manage to keep the smile on your face and nod. With the three of you working together, you finish the clean up in minutes. Down the street from the school is a local ice cream shop which has been run by the same family for generations. Here you three head for the promised treat. Your son is quick to order chocolate fudge, requesting a second scoop when he thinks you’re not paying attention. He receives one scoop with sprinkles. You request the more moderate vanilla. Mark completes the trio with cookies ‘n cream. Outside the shop, benches and tables sit clustered around a little wishing well. Your son plops onto a chair, and you settle on the bench across from him, failing to realize your mistake until Mark exits the shop with his cone in hand. The cluster your son has chosen only has the chair he occupies and the bench under you, leaving the only available seat beside you. Glancing at your son, you find that glint in his eye as he slowly licks away at his ice cream. “Do you mind?” Mark asks gesturing to the accursed spot. You shake your head scooting over until the arm rest bites into your side. Mark lowers himself, careful to keep an arms width of distance between you two. “Mr. Mark?” Your son asks. Mark motions for him to continue. “Did you really know my mom when she was little?” Sputtering turns to coughing as you choke on your ice cream. Mark pats you gently on the back, but you wave him off. “Sorry.” You cough. “Wrong pipe.” “Ummm…” Mark glances at you, but you wave him off again as you regain your breath. “Uh, yes. We grew up in the same neighborhood.” He turns his attention to your son. “What was mom like when she was little?” “We didn’t know-” “She was very independent,” He cuts you off, “like she is now.” “Really? How so?” “There’s one thing I remember from when we were really young. She would wander away from her house all the time, and the whole neighborhood would know when it happened because her mom would rush out of the house screaming. Everyone would start looking for her, and she would be somewhere different every time. When she finally returned home, her mom would rage at her.” “Mom!” Your son accuses. “And you won’t even let me walk to school by myself.” “Do as I say not as I do. Have you ever heard that expression?” You defend your protectiveness. “I was lucky that nothing happened to me.” Mark clears his throat before taking another bite of ice cream. You eye him. “What?” “You weren’t always lucky.” He mumbles, but you still hear him. At your bewildered expression, Mark continues more clearly. “There was one time I saw you wandering, and there was this guy. He made me feel uneasy, so I went and got my dad. And he reported the man to the police.” The knowledge sends a chill racing down your spine, and you stare at him horrified. “After that, I would always keep an eye on your door, and if you ever went wandering I would follow behind.” “You did?” Clearing his throat, he nods, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. “So you were my mom’s guardian angel?” Mark chuckles. “I wouldn’t say that. I was just worried something might happen.” His focus goes to his ice cream as he continues to chip away at it. You stare at him and then a crack in the sidewalk until your ice cream drips onto your hand. Cursing in your head, you lick up the mess and make quick work of the frozen treat and cone. Your son works more slowly, that glint in his eye ever present, so you hurry him along and excuse yourself from the situation. You need to get home before any other secrets come to light.

At work the next week, you sit through yet another meeting. This one thankfully marks the end of the project you’ve been slaving over for the past month. You wish your boss would show his gratitude for your teams hard work, by not having a meeting. Glancing at your co-workers, you can tell they are of the same mind set. Your boss does end the meeting earlier than usual though which everyone applauds.

As you gather your things and prepare to return to your desk, you hear your name called. Your boss stands on the other side of the room a smile on his face. That smile sends your stomach plummeting. It means more work for you. With this project completed, you had hoped you would receive a reprieve from your overloaded schedule, but you seem to be luckless.

“I’m sorry sir, could you repeat that?” He chuckles at your bewilderment. “I want you to head our new office.” “If I’m not mistaken, that office is in a different country.” He nods. “Of course the promotion comes with a move, but the company would assist with your relocation, and you would be allotted a housing stipend.” The offer is an honor, recognition for all the work you’ve put in. Everyone knew about the new office opening, and the office gossip had all been supposition about who would helm it. You had never given consideration to the idea that it would be you. While work can be exhausting, you are content where you are, and you believed the company was content to keep you where you are. “This is a big change, sir. Could I have some time to think about it?” “Of course, we don’t have to announce anything for another two weeks. Take your time think it over, but I’m sure you’ll find the benefits outweigh any minor inconveniences you face now.” His smile broadens as you nod. Exiting his office, you find your co-workers packing up and saying their farewells. A glance at the clock confirms that the workday has come to an end. You breath a sigh of relief. After that bombshell, you wouldn’t have been able to focus on anything. Grabbing your own bag, you head out of the building to your bus stop. The bus ride home is spent in silence. You watch the world pass by, but notice nothing as your mind weighs the benefits against the “minor inconveniences”. While your boss saw them as minor, you did not see them the same way. Moving meant leaving the apartment you had worked for years to be able to afford. It meant tearing your son from his school and his friends. It meant uprooting the life you had worked so hard to achieve. Did the benefits really outweigh what you would have to give up? You would have a new apartment, probably better than the one you had now, but it wouldn’t be the apartment that you had walked by every day for three years, promising yourself that one day you would live there. Your son would make new friends. The new city would have a good school, maybe a better one than he went to now, but Mark wouldn’t be there. That last thought stills you, and you almost miss your stop. Hoping off the buss, you start towards the school, but the familiar path is a blur as you try to rid Mark from your mind. He doesn’t fit into any of your plans and isn’t one of the “minor inconveniences”. Your relationship with Mark ends at the school gate. As you approach that gate, you find your son standing there talking with Minnie and a few of his other friends. When he notices you, he says his goodbyes and heads towards you. “How about a hug today, kiddo?” You hold your arms open wide, and after a moments hesitation, he walks into them. Squeezing him tight, you breath deeply. “You know I’m the only kid my age whose mom still hugs him?” He mumbles into your shoulder. “That’s either because they don’t want to be hugged or because their moms don’t love them as much as I love you.” You reply, releasing him. He gives you a look, causing you to chuckle. “I was thinking BBQ for dinner tonight. What do you think?” “Really? Yes! Let’s go!” He starts off down the street before you can change your mind.

Sitting at the table waiting for the waitress to bring your drinks, you prepare yourself for the coming conversation. This move will affect him just as much as it affects you. He has a right to know what’s coming and to add his input.

“Mom, what is it?” His question startles you and draws your attention to him. “What?” “You keep staring at nothing and sighing, and you said we could have BBQ tonight. Something is going on.” Your poker face never was the greatest. Nodding, you begin. “I’ve got some good news, but it could also be bad news.” He nods for you to continue. “My boss called me into his office today to offer me a promotion.” His eyes go wide, and he beams at you. “That’s awesome, mom! You’re the best worker at the company. You deserve a promotion. Why is that bad news?” “The promotion means we have to move.” “Where?” “Another country.” Silence. He stares at you, the joy from moments before washed away by this revelation. “Sweetie-” “Mom, we can’t move to another country. What about my friends and my school and our apartment, and everyone here. We can’t leave all of that.” His voice is a squeak, evidencing the boy he still is. He stares at you with those eyes, and you feel your inside crumble. “I know we would have to give up a lot, and I know that would be hard. But, there are a lot of good things that would come with the new job and the move. We would find you a new school, and you can make new friends. I would be making more money which means that we would be able to do more fun things like go on vacations and adventures.” “Would you be working as much?” You’d be working more. The answer shows on you face. He snorts, crossing his arms. “We won’t be going on any adventures. You’ll be too busy working, and I’ll be home alone with no friends.” “Kiddo, you’ll make-” His glare cuts you off. He’s angry, and he has every right to be. “I think we should both give this some serious thought, and then we can talk about it again.” His response is a huff.

Working with your sewing machine is a relief. If you had to struggle with the demon school machine, you would have gone on a rampage. The promotion has been dominating your thoughts, robbing you of sleep and leaving you peevish. You’ve weighed the pros and cons a thousand times and come to no satisfactory conclusion. Your son is firm in his resolution to stay and refusing to speak to you which irritates your aggravated state. You’re a toe stub away from a full melt down.

A knock, knock on your work table draws your eyes to Mark who is standing above you with a two steaming mugs in his hand. “Tea?” He offers. While you should say “no” and return to your work because being around Mark isn’t helping your situation, you straighten, stretching the muscles in your back, and reach for the mug. The warmth spreads through your aching fingers, and you sigh as you breath in the tea’s earthy smell. The steam caresses your face, relaxing the muscles. “Thank you.” You mumble as you bring the mug to your lips. “You know even Okoye needed the help of the Dora Milaje when she took on Killmonger.” He states as he perches on the edge of the table. You snort, nearly spilling tea down your front. “What?” “Okoye is the greatest warrior Wakanda has, but she was still able to accept the help of her fellow warriors.” He says, taking a sip from his own mug. “I’m sorry. Are you using a Black Panther analogy to tell me that it’s okay to accept help?” You raise an eyebrow at Mark as you lean back in your chair. Mark smiles and shrugs his shoulders. “It got you to smile didn’t it?” The smile, he referenced, thins to a line, but you can’t keep the edges from tugging upward. “So it at least accomplished one of it’s tasks.” “And the other was to get me to accept help?” “To let you know that you can.” His eyes hold yours, and you feel yourself falling back through time to that day on your parent’s doorstep. The last day you had accepted anyone’s help. “Are you offering again?” Your eyes fall from him as you set the mug on the table, your fingers fiddling with it’s handle. “I’ve never stopped.” His voice is light, and you can hear the smile in it. But the words lay heavy on your shoulders. “Mark-” But you don’t know what to say after that. Does he want you to apologize? Do you want to accept his help? You don’t even know what you want? “I hear congratulations are in order.” He says sparing you from your unfinished thought. “What?” “Your son told me that you’ve been offered a promotion.” Mark explains. The action shouldn’t surprise you. Your son has been attached to Mark since his first day of school. He’s the first solid male figure in his life. “What else did he say?” Mark pauses, his eyes drifting to a corner of the room. “You said it was okay to accept your help, Mark.” You don’t look at him as you speak, and the words burn on the way out. But you say them in the hopes of alleviating your ever mounting stress. “He won’t talk to me. I’d like to know how he’s feeling.” “He doesn’t want to move. He’s afraid he’ll be alone because he won’t have any friends and you’ll be too busy to spend time with him.” Your son is shy. A truth which you have buried as you’ve contemplated your decision. His fear is well-founded, and it rips at your chest. “You don’t think I should take it.” The irritation that’s been gnawing at you bleeds into your words, turning them from a question to an accusation. Mark holds up his hands in a gesture of surrender, and with a simple smile says, “I think you should do what you think is right.” He relaxes his arms, folding his hands on his lap. His smile and demeanor fit his words, supporting them, but his eyes don’t. His smile doesn’t reach them and an emotion resides in them which sets your heart racing. The emotions which you have been suppressing for years burst forth, and you find yourself asking, “How do you feel about this, Mark?” The question encompasses more than this moment and this decision. The question goes back years to when you were kids growing up in the same neighborhood. You ask him how he feels, but really you want to know why he followed you all those days, why he offered you a hand and a place to stay, why he was with your son at the principle’s office, and why he keeps showing up in your life. “I don’t want you to go.” The answer is simple and soft. No loud declaration or demand. “What?” “I’ve never wanted you to go, but I understand that just because I want you to stay doesn’t mean you should.” He smiles, shattering everything inside of you. “Why?” The question is pointless and self-serving, but you have to know, want to hear him say it. “Because I love you. I have since that first day I followed you on your wanderings.” Tears leak from your eyes, evidence of your wreckage within. “I-I...” You stutter as your brain shifts through the rubble for a response. “I have to go.” You stand up, grab your bag, and run like you did back then like you always do.

“It’s time to go.” Your son informs you. They’re the only words he’s spoken to you in the last week.

You catch his eyes in the bathroom mirror and give him a smile as you nod. “I’ll be ready in just a minute.” His lips remain a thin line as he turns and heads for the door. A sigh forces the air from your chest and slumps your shoulders. After a final check of your make-up, you head out of the bathroom and towards the front door where your son is waiting. He fixes his eyes on the door as he waits for you to slip on your shoes, and he is out the door the second they are on. He keeps two steps ahead of you the whole way to the school. “How much longer do you plan to keep this up? If we move, are you never going to speak to me again?” “You’re going to take the job.” He whirls around to face you with tears welling in his eyes. Clearing your throat, you respond, “I didn’t say that. I just wanted to know.” “If I say ‘yes’, can we stay here?” Hope has replaced the tears, and you find it wrenches your heart more. “We should hurry. I don’t want you to be late.” You start to walk again, and your son plods along behind you.

The concert is beautiful. The costumes, the set, the singing. Everything turned out perfectly. But you notice none of it. Your attention is split between your son who whispers and giggles with his friends during each song break and Mark who directs the boys with a patient smile.

Since the night he confessed, you have kept your distance from him, not even helping with the final set up for the concert. Mark never texted or called about your absence. He allowed you your space like he always does. Staring at the most important person in your life and the person who has always been beside you, you make your decision. The weight which has rested on your shoulders since your boss offered you the promotion lifts instantly. You exhale all the stress and smile as you sit back and enjoy the rest of the concert. When the last song is sung and the children take their bows, you stand up and applaud with the rest of the parents. Your son finds you in the crowd. His smile pushes his cheeks into his eyes, and he practically glows with pride. But all too soon, memory returns, and he whips his attention from you. You continue to applaud though until the children take their final bow and exit the stage. Leaving your seat, you head back stage to share your decision with your son. Before you can reach him though, you run into Mark. He freezes when he sees you, and you mirror the behavior. Clearing his throat, he nods to you and continues on his way. “Mark.” He stops. “Can I talk to you?” He turns his eyes finding yours. The way he looks at you stills your heart and stops your breath. He’s searching, and you wonder what he sees. Whatever he saw causes him to nod again as he walks towards you. He leads you to a small alcove which allows you both a modicum of privacy. Standing a few feet apart, Mark starts talking, “If this is about what I said the other night, I want to-” You hold up a hand stopping him. “I’m sorry.” You apologize, staring him straight in the eyes though your mind screams in protest. “I’m sorry I ran then and that I ran all those years ago. I tell myself that I’m strong and independent but most of the time I’m just scared. And I act out of fear. Even as I say all of this to you, I’m scared,” you release a shuddering breath but continue, “but I’m tired of letting my fear control me. I love you too, Mark. I’ve loved you since before I can remember.” The truth flies from your lips leaving you with only fear as you study Mark’s face. He smiles, not big and bright but small and sad. Watching him, your heart plummets. “What I said that night is the truth. I love you, but I know that just because I love you doesn’t mean I can stop you from doing what is best for you.” You blink as your mind works to unravel the meaning behind his words. His response was unexpected and unwanted. Searching his eyes, realization strikes. “The job. You’re talking about the job.” You chuckle to yourself which furrows Mark’s brow. “I’m not taking the job, Mark.” “If it’s because of me…” You both know the end of the sentence. You smile up at him, and yours is big and bright. “It’s not because of you. Well, it’s not fully because of you.” Your smile eases as sensibility asserts itself. “I would be lying if I said you didn’t play into my decision. “The truth is it really is an incredible job. It comes with more money and more opportunities. And for those reasons, I’d be a fool not to take it. But it also comes with more hours and more traveling which means less time I get to spend with my son. You pause, your eyes becoming unfocused as your mind travels back to your early years. “When he was little, and I was putting myself through that hell; I told myself it’ll be worth it. If I work hard now and put in the hours, when he’s older I won’t have to. I can have time with my son.” Glancing back up at Mark, you continue, “If I take this job, I’ll have lied to myself all those years. I only have so much time before my son goes off to live his own life. I want to spend all the time I can with him until that day. “After that day,” you shrug your shoulder, “I’ll take a job with money and opportunities and hours and traveling. So I guess, I’m not saying no. I’m saying not now.” “Not now.” Mark nods with a true smile. “Not now.” You repeat returning his smile. “So what happens now then?” “I wouldn’t be opposed to dinner.” You cock a brow. “I also like movies. Video games occasionally. They’re really good stress relievers.” Mark snorts and nods. “I’m free for dinner most nights. And I also like movies and video games.” “Do I get to go to dinner and the movies and play video games too?” Both of your heads turn to face your son who stands in front of the alcove, smiling up at you two with his hands clasped behind his back, a familiar glint in his eye. “How long have you been there?” You ask. “Long enough to know that you two love each other and we’re not moving.” He smiles up at you. You’re caught between wanting to scold him and wanting to laugh. “And you didn’t think you should announce your presence?” “No.” Mark laughs, and you glare at him, but he continues. Shaking your head, you rub your eyes. “I’m hungry. Are you both hungry?” Glancing between the two, you find them both agreeing. “Good. Then let’s go to dinner, and we can talk about all of this there.” Your son smiles wide and heads for the door. As you start to follow him, you feel a hand slip into yours. Mark meets your eyes and offers you a simple smile. You return the smile and fall into step with him as you two head after your son.

#got7 #hmw #mark tuan #mark tuan fanfiction #mark fanfiction #mark tuan drabble #mark drable #mt #teacher!mark #got7 fanfiction #got7 drabble

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samayla · 5 years

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Lemon Meringue

Here it is, folks: the opening chapter of the Lemon Meringue AU!

Thorin's hobbit is depressed. It's been a very rainy fall, but Thorin has been assured that a homemade lemon pie will help him bring Bilbo all the sunshine he needs.

AO3

This is for @shygaladriel and @angelsallfire, who provided the prompts that spawned this beast last week. I have had so much fun working on this! I’m still going strong, and I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I do!

Chapter 1

Thorin’s hobbit was depressed.

He pondered the issue while he looped wire to make a whisk for Azalea Proudfoot. The rain beating on the awning of his little blacksmith shop faded to a dull background thrum while he worked. Around and around the wire went, and so too did his thoughts, always coming back to the same, worrisome fact. His hobbit was depressed.

One loop. He wasn’t writing anymore.

Another loop. He seemed to have lost his sweet tooth entirely.

Another loop. His green thumb was likewise missing.

Another loop. It had been weeks since they’d had company at Bag End.

“I’d recognize the set of that brow anywhere.”

Startled, Thorin looked up to see Everard Bolger at his counter, shaking rain off his oilskin cloak.

“Marital troubles, I’d wager. What’d you do?”

“Nothing,” Thorin growled at once. No one could say he hadn’t been trying.

Bolger chuckled. “Son, take it from me. I’ve been married near sixty years now, and it’s almost never ‘nothing.’” The elderly hobbit flopped his soggy cloak over the edge of the counter and shuffled around the end.

“You’ll get burrs in your toe hair,” Thorin warned. Once Bolger got settled in, there would be no hope of avoiding one of his infamous lectures.

“Never you mind my toe hair, lad,” Bolger snapped, rapping his walking stick against Thorin’s work table and then perching himself on the edge of a barrel of wire clippings. “Now, tell me what’s happened.”

Thorin hooked a fresh length of wire through the tops of his loops and twisted it to make the base of a handle and buy himself time to think. At last, he asked, “Do you remember last spring?”

Bolger’s impatient scowl melted away at once. “He’s not ill again, is he?”

“No,” Thorin hastened to assure him. He took up another length of wire to wind around the handle. “On our journey, there was an… incident. We were taken prisoner. Bilbo singlehandedly saved our entire company, but he nearly died in the aftermath.” Thorin cleared his throat. He’d nearly died again last spring. It made him panicky just to think of it. “Pneumonia,” he managed after a moment.

“And now he’s susceptible,” Bolger supplied.

“Exactly.”

“And you’re worried about this run of weather we’ve had lately.”

Around and around Thorin wrapped the wire, coiling it into a neat, sturdy handle for the whisk. He didn’t answer the hobbit. It hadn’t been a question.

Bolger nodded to himself after a minute, and his tone turned sharp once more. “And you’ve told him he has to stay indoors for his health, have you?”

“Of course not,” Thorin snapped. “I would never — I wouldn’t —” He stopped himself and took a deep breath. He felt like he was losing Bilbo all over again. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t, and that Bolger could possibly help. “I only… I told him how worried I was, and he said he’d stay in. He seemed fine for the first few days, but then I caught him digging through our things from our journey one afternoon. I thought maybe he meant to work on his book, but he hasn’t touched it, and I feel like he’s barely spoken to me since. He isn’t interested in cooking, or taking care of the flowers I bring him, or having company over to Bag End… I just…”

Thorin fell silent. He could feel the elderly hobbit’s eyes on him as he finished winding the handle of the whisk.

“Well,” Bolger said after a minute or two, “you may have married a Baggins in name, but that lad is half a Took, and that lot has never been very good at sitting still.”

Thorin nodded without looking up. He’d heard plenty such whispers about adventurous Tooks and what a waste of a Baggins it was and how only the son of the notorious Belladonna Took could have married a dwarf, of all creatures.

“You know what to do then, don’t you?”

“If I knew, I’d be doing it,” Thorin growled, chucking the finished whisk into a crate with the rest of Azalea’s order. He slumped at the table with his head in his hands.

“None of that now,” Bolger scolded, rapping Thorin soundly across the shoulders with his walking stick. Thorin surged to his feet in indignation, but Bolger plowed on with the self-assurance only extreme age could bestow. “You don’t know what to do, lad, then you ask one of us who does.”

Bolger just stared at him expectantly until Thorin sighed and sat. “What do you suggest I do, Master Bolger?” he asked in his most placating tone.

The hobbit nodded approvingly and replaced his walking stick against the table. “You say Bilbo’s depressed? Well, what would make that better, in your estimation?”

“The return of the sun,” Thorin answered at once. “He needs fresh air, adventure, and a bit of sunshine to banish this foul cloud he’s under.”

“There you have it,” Bolger declared, nodding again. “He needs fresh air, you give it to him. Adventure? Sunshine? You bring them to him if he can’t go out and get them for himself. Or leastways, do what you can. It’s the effort that matters in a marriage, more than the outcome, if you catch my meaning.”

“And just how do you propose I bring him the sun?” Thorin demanded, exasperated with the hobbit’s non-advice. It’s broken? Unbreak it, of course. Nothing was that simple.

Bolger bristled at his tone. “Well, lad, for starters, you might try being at home. Your husband’s hurting because he’s stuck there? What in the name of the Green Lady are you doing out here yourself? You head down to the market this very instant, and then you come up with an adventure for that Tookish husband of yours, and then you head straight home to deliver it.”

“But what —”

Bolger brandished his walking stick at him. “A meal’s always a safe place to start, but the rest is for you to figure out, isn’t it? You married him, lad, not me. Now, get going.”

#bagginshield #thorin #bilbo #lemon meringue au #the hobbit #kate writes #my writing #fanfic

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takingcourage · 5 years

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The Start of Forever - Part 5

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Pairing: Drake x MC

Word Count: 2,387

Series Summary: The wedding has passed and the Duke and Duchess of Valtoria are free to begin their lives together away from the constraints of court. While honeymooning in Texas, they’re confronted with questions from their past that raise implications about their future. (Slight AU)

Chapter Summary: Drake and Jena spend some time alone after a difficult conversation with his mother.

Author’s Note: Whew! Apologies for the unexpected hiatus on this story. Now that I have some free time again, I should be able to finish posting this story. I appreciate your patience through the long delay!

Tagging: @andy-loves-corgis, @carabeth, @speedyoperarascalparty

All things considered, Karen Walker had been rather more understanding than she’d expected. As Jena loaded her cereal bowl into the dishwasher, she thought back over the painstaking conversation that had ended less than an hour before.

Drake had not underestimated the effect that their news would have on his mother. On learning that her son had been given a duchy, color had drained slowly from the older woman’s face until a dull white shell was all that remained. In spite of her polite responses, the visceral reactions had been painful for all three of them.

Shortly after their previous discussion had finished, Karen had pulled Drake aside for a private word. After what she'd seen over the past eighteen hours, Jena could only hope that the woman was doing him no further damage.

She tried to convince herself that she’d done nothing but hurry along the inevitable, but guilt assailed her all the same. This certainly wasn’t the way she’d envisioned this day going. At this point, so much of their morning had been consumed by unpleasant conversation that she wondered if Drake would want to leave early for their night back in Dallas. She glanced a the stovetop clock, trying not to get her hopes up.

The quiet intonations from down the hall were at least somewhat reassuring. There had been no yelling -- of that was certain. If she was venturing to guess, she didn’t think she’d heard anything that sounded like crying either. Both seemed like signs in favor of productive conversation between mother and son.

Jena found a rag draped across the head of the faucet, dampened it, and set about clearing crumbs from the table. As she finished the final swipe across the width, she sensed a presence coming toward her.

“You don’t have to do that, Wittman.” The soft-spoken words startled out of her thoughts, despite her intuition.

“I know. But I needed something to do.” She cupped her hand underneath the cloth and shook the contents into a nearby trash can. “You doing okay?” Having rinsed the rag, she returned it to its former spot and rubbed her hands down the front of her jeans.

“Fine.” His brown eyes were trained on her, and she raised a quizzical brow as he opened and shut his mouth. Eventually, the words ventured forth. “Would you be interested in going riding? I was hoping to get the chance to show you around the ranch…”

“I’d like that a lot, actually,” she assured, still taking in his appearance.

Drake looked tired. It was evident in the exaggerated slackness of the skin around his eyes. A pang of guilt plagued her as she contrasted this with their time at the cabin. He’d been so peaceful there. After all of the stress she’d seen on that face in the past months, it sickened her to think that she’d been the cause of more.

“Good. We may as well get over to the stables. Have you ever actually saddled a horse, Wittman?” He raised his brow in challenge.

“No, but I think I’m about to learn how.”

“Just as long as you don’t go scaring the horses. I don’t want to have to reenact that rescue from the derby.”

Jena scoffed at the slight, shaking her head in disbelief as she followed him out the front door. “You know that’s not how it happened, Walker.”

“Of course not,” he acquiesced, treating her to a half smile. She rolled her eyes and fell into step at his side, slipping her fingers into his.

Jena had only ridden horses a few times during childhood, but she’d adjusted to the practice fairly quickly after coming to Cordonia. When she wasn’t taking day-long treks for foxhunting, she found that she actually enjoyed it very much -- especially when she was fortunate enough to have her husband’s company.

Riding around his family’s property spawned memories of exploring Valtoria with him on horseback, and she felt a pang of longing for their home. There was so much waiting for them when they returned. As much as she had enjoyed the honeymoon, some part of her was giddy at the thought of starting real life together.

Today, however, she was focused on Drake’s wellbeing. Other than the extremely thorough instructions as he’d guided her through the process of saddling the horses, he’d been fairly quiet since coming to find her in the kitchen. Jena's mind overflowed with words that could fill the silence, but nothing felt right. She breathed a grateful sigh when he chose to speak instead.

“I was pretty upset with you this morning, Wittman. I was sitting there drinking coffee and thinking that you were being unreasonable -- that you’d judged my mom too harshly. I’m not so sure anymore.”

The uncertainty in his voice halted her instinctive response. Jena breathed out slowly through her nose, biding her time in case there was more he wanted to say.

“I’ve never felt so angry with her before. She can doubt me all she wants, but doubting you -- I never thought she’d go that far. That’s a line she shouldn’t have crossed. I feel like I don’t even know her anymore...”

“For the record, I didn’t want to be right,” Jena admitted softly, grateful that they kept their horses at a relaxed pace so that she could meet his gaze. Her heart clenched at the distance in his deep brown eyes. “I just know what it’s like to defend someone who doesn’t deserve it. Finding out they’re not who you thought they were...it’s a hard pill to swallow.” She fiddled with the leather reins between her fingers, hoping that she was treading lightly enough to cause no offense.

“Your dad?” he asked simply.

Nodding, she met his eyes. The distant look gave way to a tenderness that mirrored her own worry for him, and she was struck by just how broken both of their families had been. “I wasted a lot of years making excuses for him, Drake. When I finally forgave him, it wasn’t because he’d done anything to deserve it. I just needed closure.” Drake stretched out a hand and she took it gratefully before continuing. “I don’t want you to have to go through all of that with your mom. I hope you’re able to figure things out and find a way to start over, but please don’t beat yourself up about it if you’re not.”

Her husband sighed, taking his time to respond as he turned his gaze to the horizon. “I sort of have to. I mean, dad’s not around any more. She doesn’t exactly have anyone else.”

Jena shook her head in an attempt to clear the conflicting emotions. She’d realized long ago that his protective instinct would have a propensity for getting them in trouble. She just hadn’t expected the trouble to take this form. “You always want to defend the people you care about, Drake. It’s one of the first things I noticed about you -- one of the things I love most about you too. But sometimes you have to think about protecting yourself. Sometimes that may even mean letting others protect you.”

“I don’t like to have people worrying about me.”

“We’ve been over this before…”

“I know. And sometimes having you around to worry about me is a good thing. I wouldn’t have come clean with my mom if it hadn’t been for you.”

“I hope it was the right decision.” She’d spent the past several hours second guessing her encouragement from the night before. “Did things...go okay?”

“Heh.”

She waited several moments, but he elaborated no further. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she ventured finally.

“Just that I think it’s going to take some time for her to adjust to the idea that I’m a noble and that I’m staying in Cordonia for good. But I think some part of her is proud too. Maybe someday she’ll come around to the idea that I’m not just wasting my life over there.”

“Does she really think that?” The words felt strangled as Jena worked them out of her throat. So many of her early interactions with Drake became clearer as she considered Karen’s likely influence.

He clicked his tongue to encourage the horse, but her question remained unanswered. Several paces later, he came to a sudden stop. Jena pulled the reins gently and dismounted to stand beside him in the tall grass.

“We’ll let the horses graze for a bit.”

She stroked the mare’s bony cheek and dropped the reins, putting her hands in her pockets instead. Squinting against the mid-morning sun, she followed Drake to a line of fencing nearby. Green stretched before them on every side, the light wind stirring long blades of grass into mesmerizing waves. She wondered vaguely if this was the sight that had enticed Karen to come back from Cordonia. Out here, in the warmth of late spring, it wasn’t hard to imagine the appeal that this land must have held.

Drake leaned against the nearest post, a wrinkle forming between his brows. With ease, Jena mounted the fence beside him, steadying herself with a certain hand.

Did I cross a line? Why hasn’t he answered my question? Jena hated the thought that her carelessness might have caused such distress. A week ago, she wouldn’t have been so bothered by the thought. Now, as this man’s wife, she felt some measure of responsibility to read his mind. The notion was ridiculous, but present nonetheless. Just as she was clearing her throat, he spoke.

“I’m not sure what my mother thinks anymore. She didn’t take it very well when I moved back to Cordonia. Wanted me to forge my own path instead of running back to the palace.”

“Do you ever regret it?”

“Going back?” At her nod, he continued. “I had a lot of questions at the time, but in a way, mom’s right. I’d been following Liam around for so long that it was easier to just settle back into that when I came back from the States. It took me a while to find where I belonged in all of it. But no, I don’t regret it. Cordonia is home.”

“You’ve found your way now. And with or without the courtly graces, you’re still Drake Walker,” she beamed encouragingly. “I just wish your mom had taken the chance to get to who that man is.” A fresh sting of remorse accompanied the words, and she looped her fingers around the hand that rested beside her on the fence.

Drake interlocked his fingers with her own and lifted his face tentatively. “I think I’d like for her to get the chance to.”

Her pulse quickened at the meaning that underpinned his words. Biting her tongue, she shifted her weight toward him and took in his pensive expression.

“I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” He hiked a hand through his hair. “But I’m not sure I’d ever forgive myself if I cut the relationship off completely. I’d always wonder if things could have been different. I’m not saying that I want to come out here for Christmases or anything, but--” preoccupied, he ceased speaking as she squeezed his hand.

“I’ll support whatever you choose, Drake. I can’t say I have a very good first impression of her, but I respect how much she means to you. If I had any hope of my dad changing for the better, I’d probably make the same choice.” Her tone grew wistful at the impossible notion. “But I think we’re going to have to find a compromise. I don’t want you bending over backward to make her a part of our lives if she won’t even meet you halfway. You can’t do that to yourself, Drake.”

“Agreed.”

“So she’s going to have to understand that there are boundaries she can’t cross. It’s going to take some time for us to establish trust again.”

“Sounds fair to me,” he considered, stroking her knuckles with his thumb as he looked to her face. “She’s been through a lot, Jena. I don’t want to put her through more than she deserves.”

“I know,” she responded quickly to the flash of pain in his eyes. “But if she puts you through more than you deserve, she’ll have me to contend with.” Although her tone was light, they both knew that the threat was genuine.

He hoisted himself onto the fence beside her, dropping his hands to his sides. “I never thought I’d be so happy to get back to Valtoria, but I’m really looking forward to it.”

She offered a wry smile. “I am too. I know we’re going to try to work things out here, but I can’t wait to get back to Dallas and then home.”

“It’s the last night of our trip, Wittman. How do you want to spend it?”

“Seeing as it’s the last night of our honeymoon,” she emphasized, “I was thinking room service, hot tub, and…some drinks.”

“Now that’s a plan I can get behind.”

“I’m not going overboard though. We’ve got a day full of traveling tomorrow.”

“We’ll sleep it off on the plane.”

“Maybe you will," she joked, hopping down from the fence. “I’ll be awake for it all.”

“Even if I keep you up all night?”

Jena threw him a look over her shoulder. "That didn’t exactly work for the trip out here." He extended a hand toward her and she settled into the space between his legs, running her palms against toned thighs that were stretched taut from his heels pressing into the lower rail.

"I’ll take that as a challenge.” The glint in his eyes sent tendrils of heat through her core.

“Just keeping you on your toes, Walker.”

Drake shook his head at her accompanying wink.

“Ready when you are,” she announced, rising to the tips of her toes. Drake cradled her cheek in his hand and leaned into the kiss. His lips were soft and warm, heated by the morning sun. She snaked her arms around his waist and melted into him with pleasure. When she finally pulled away, it took several moments for her head to clear.

The kiss told her all she needed to know. They would make it through this. Together.

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #the royal romance #trr #drake walker #drake x mc

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lifeofalaurie · 6 years

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my uwc story

i remember reading through uwc blogs when i had just found out about uwc and when i was applying and going through all those months of WAITING for the next step...and they were so helpful. im so glad these exist

i first found out uwc through my brother’s friend, who actually went to UWC atlantic college (where im headed!!!!) a few years back. it was one ordinary saturday afternoon (idk if it was actually saturday but that sounds right) and we were carpooling with said friend (usually i dont participate in these but i happened to be in the car that day) and we were talking about next year and whatever and she just kinda said that she wasn’t going to be back next year bc she was going to this ‘abroad’ program. i didnt even really think about it that much. i in fact forgot about it after that...apparently my dad did not.

so my dad would talk about it here and there but i was NOT INTERESTED for that whole year..then...i started researching a bit myself and thought oh this sounds kind of cool. i still didn't really get what UWC even was or if was even a legit thing. it just sounded like another boarding school (a huge NO for me). then i saw that there was a such thing as a “short program” (or maybe someone actually told me about it) and i decided to apply for the one at the USA campus in New Mexico. i remember writing the essays over winter break and thinking they were pretty terrible (there was also a skype interview involved and that was rough) so i was pretty shocked when i found out i had gotten in but it worked out well bc my fam was going to arizona anyway a week before that so i just flew to new mexico myself after that (i say that casually but we had to cancel tickets and get new ones so that i could go to new mexico instead of home PLUS i had to fly for myself for the first time and i was pretty confused). (also, the program is called global leadership forum or GLF)

after hermit’s peak hike (ALL UPHILL FOR A SOLID 4-5 HOURS) i think it was like 8 miles IDK. view was so nice though 10/10

GLF turned out to be an amazing experience and really solidified my trust in UWC and confirmed to me that it was indeed a real thing. i really loved how much we did in those 2 and half weeks or so - camping, hiking, interacting w wolves, having important discussions - and it really pushed me to decide to apply to UWC for real. maybe ill talk more about it in another post!!!!

ok so coming home i did even more research and really really started liking UWC and decided that i might as well try to apply. i knew they never had a certain ‘criteria’ for students but i also knew it was a long and stressful process and involved really digging deep so i really didn’t think much of it (didn’t think i really had a chance) after submitting my written application. and then began the long waiting game...

here’s a nice picture of the sky @ a wolf reservation! just wanted to add a nice pic

i never joined any of those fb groups or college confidential things for applicants and good thing bc looking at some of them now stress me out so i wouldve probably been even more stressed if i had been involved in that. also i didnt even know they existed until later so thats also probably why.

anyway i had totally forgotten about UWC (more like i was sure they’d forgotten about me or there had been something wrong like my application wasn’t submitted or something) bc i didnt hear back until the end of november (i submitted the application early october). but finding out i was a semifinalist was kind of traumatic bc in my GLF snapchat group one of my friends (who’s going to Pearson this year!!!) said he’d moved on to the next stage and i hadn’t GOTTEN ANY EMAIL. i think i just accepted it that that was the end. but then a few hours passed when i finally decided to check a different email and, alas, there it was. so a few days later, i got an email from my interviewer when we should do our skype interview and it turned out to be the same day i was taking the ACT. good

the interview turned out to be completely ok and actually really great (enjoyable even!!?). if youre at that stage, seriously the best advice i have is to just chill and be honest when youre answering. also, make it more like a conversation rather than the interviewers (yes there are prob going to be more than 1 but i assure u its ok) asking u questions back and forth. think of it as a conversation- that helped me so much to relax. the interviewers just wants to talk to you and find out what kind of person you are and if youre the same one that wrote all those deep meaningful essays from the written application - so if you were honest from the start youll be completely fine...if not, well..sry

after that, school and extracurriculars and life really went up for me and i just forgot about UWC again. i never really told any of my friends about it or anyone except for my parents. i kind of wanted it to be a personal thing- get in or not in the end.

after a really good last day of school before winter break, i went to the town library (lol) and checked my phone and therE IT WAS. I WAS A FINALIST WHICH MEANT I WOULD BE GOING TO THE UWC USA CAMPUS FOR FINALIST WEEKEND. did not know what to expect

waiting for finalist weekend felt looooong

but it came

i flew there myself AND IT WASNT EVEN DIRECT and i remember feeling so independent and proud for making it. it turned out i was one of the later ones and in the last group to be bussed over (but i met a friend on the bus who i still talk to here and there who is going to RBC this yr!!). we were so late we missed the initial meeting and first night of activities and just went straight to the hotel. at the hotel i saw my interviewer and she gave me a hug (<3) and that helped calm me down and it was also really nice to see her in person bc i remember really liking her during our skype interview. then finalist weekend happened. and im pretty sure im not supposed to expose the process so all i can say was that it was actually so genuinely fun and a real good time

UWC USA <3

at the end we all exchanged social media and fb and all that and started a messenger group chat -- as nice as it was to be able to connect to everyone, i think it really stressed everyone out. they told us that results would come out early that week (FALSE). THAT WEEK AFTER FINALIST WEEKEND WAS THE MOST STRESSFUL THING EVER. IT TOOK YEARS FOR IT TO GO BY. i remember constantly checking my email between classes and everyone in the group chat wondering if anyone had heard. then on wed night, we all got an email that said the results would be notified by friday instead. the worst

i remember that friday evening i was packing for my first hackathon (it was fun) and thinking the call wouldnt come until later that night. people were freaking out all over the group chat. then, as i was scrambling packing my sweatpants into my bag, the home phone started ringing and i ran..RAN TO THE PHONE. it said my interviewer’s name on the caller ID and i was like OK THIS I S REAL. and i picked it up and it turned out i was too late so i frantically called back probably 10 times on multiple different phones (my efforts did not work). but then, i got a call to the home phone again and it was her so i picked up RIGHT AWAY and when she told me... i kid you not that i screamed and ran around my house a few times. so thats it. it was kind of a really long and sstressful process for sure, but SOO WORTH IT. i definitely learned a lot just from that process bc it makes you think and reflect a lot all throughout. weeee

if youre even thinking about applying please GO FOR IT (well as long as ur in the right age limit, 16-18.... and also make sure you’ve done some research to get a feel for it).. but just DO IT. and u can ask me questions if u want and ill answer to the best of my personal ability (but remember that im just one person and one experience and each person’s experience is completely different)

here is the general website btw:

https://www.uwc.org/

i will probably do another post to explain UWC - at least in my own words and perspective!

<3 <3 <3

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askdurianrider · 7 years

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Man I watch the video of you and FL doing your q&a up the doi when she roasted you about being on Test and your reactions are so strange. Were you in denial or just saying off things to fool the audience? I mean she's basically saying "you're taking Test, it's fucking with your head, you've become someone else, you need to stop." Or was she just flat out lying? It's the weirdest 30 mins of footage I've ever watched haha

In my head I was thinking ‘Ive just invested the last 9 years into you, saved you from being a broke stripper in Sydney who was getting passed around amongst the meat head steroid bodybuilders of randwick fitness first, hide your lies, backed you up every day, taught you how to eat and train to get the body you currently have and helped you cure your eating disorder and NOW you are trying to pull this trick so you can sell more ebooks than me? Take me out of context on by pretending that I NEVER made those videos in late 2014 sharing my steroid experiments by going to the local family doctor and getting given AAS by them? what next, delete me from my own website?’.

That is the stuff I was thinking. I was in shock AND denial that she would do something to me like that. Afterwards I said ‘you better put that in context tomorrow otherwise everyone is going to know about your botox and how you NEVER told anyone about that and lied to all their faces every time someone brought it up’. FL said ‘haha you wouldnt!’ and then I assured her that I would so if you watch the next days vid you see her basically put everything in context and backpedal faster than one of those italian tanks in WW2 that were designed to go faster backwards than forwards.

Watch my vids from day 1 and you will always see Im talking about diet and fitness and stirring the pot. Nothing has changed in my core delivery except I USED to think that if you swore on youtube that you WILL get deleted lol so I was all nicey nicey but once I saw Jenna Marbles swearing then I changed my delivery tone.

Watch my vids today and same time every year the last 6 years and its the same shit. Watch FL’s vid and you have to severely question her mental health. She can’t even zoom the expensive camera in or she doesnt notice it. Those face fillers and botox really have changed her and that is the main reason I no longer wanted to be with someone that lacked the self confidence just to let their face be natural when it looked fine in the first place.

Doing botox and face fillers etc means there is something else going on inside. FL likes to pretend that I ‘forced her ‘into plastic surgery addiction but the reality is she got a boob job when she was just 21 so was obviously that kind of person before I even met her. I 10000% against botox and face fillers because to me it is DANGEROUS injecting something so close to the human brain.

FL focuses now too much on money and looks and I got bored of that. She just rented an ENTIRE house and called it ‘minimalist’. Why didnt she let a homeless family stay downstairs for a bit? Find a legit homeless family who isnt on drugs but just needs a place to stay for a little bit whilst she rents it out. NAH!

FL would probably let her own mother starve to death if it meant another botox shot could be afforded lol.

FL needs to have no wrinkles in her face to feel happy therefore she is addicted to botox. She will continue to lie about it because she has lied so big about it and she can’t handle the backlash if she came clean.

Me? I made videos about my steroid experiments back in late 2014. In those videos I show EXACTLY what I took, how I got them etc. I document how it killed my climbing and running abilities because it just stacked on muscle weight that even today is hard for me to shred off and that is why I don’t climb as fast as I used to like in 2013 and early 2014. When I was on steroids FL used to say how good I looked. In the past when she was angry she would call me a ‘skinny faggot’. I didnt want to stay on steroids though because I know the longterm health implications and risks. FL doesnt have much substance anymore so when I saw that I knew our time was soon to be over. She is like most handbag/botox basics - they like guys who are on steroids but don’t ever want you to admit you are on them.

Im not a professional cyclist or athlete so I don’t need to dope to compete with other dopers. My income isnt based on my physique like those fake natty people so I don’t need to dope to have that ‘aesthetic look’ like they do.

FL needs to stop the botox and stop lying. NOBODY in LA now wants to be associated with her publically. If she called up shane dawson, trisha, those 19 year old botox twins etc none of them would return her call or they would give some flakey LA based reasoning for them being ‘too busy’ or ‘Id love to but actually my camera is broken darling!’. She is the one who changed, I stayed the same. Sure Ive made my mistakes but Im the first person to come clean and put those mistakes up on youtube.

FL? How about you do a video one day coming clean?

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adambstingus · 6 years

Text

Every Halloween, I Have A Story I Like To Tell

I liked Ben, I really did. I mean, he was a nice guy. We had some fun times together in college, messing around the dorm, going to parties, all the dumb shit that college guys do. He was cool and all, but he was a little pretentious. Well, I guess the word he used was artistic. He thought he was real smart, spent a lot of time trying to prove it to everyone. He had his own blog developed to film critiques not the big ones, though. Just little indie productions because nothing else was worth his time. When he got like that, he could be pretty insufferable.

Perhaps the most annoying thing that he did was performance art.

Now, I dont wanna be the guy who says that all performance art is dumb. But yeah, no, all performance art is dumb. Oh, look, youre on display painting a picture of Jesus from your own urine, how original and edgy! Maybe Im a little jaded, but it always seemed so contrived to me. Unfortunately, Ben really loved it. He thought there was something beautiful in art that was physically living and he devoted an embarrassing amount of time to it.

Anyway, I hung out with Ben a few times after college, but we mostly just met up to do some heavy drinking and maybe hit a strip club or two. He considered THAT performance art as well, which was just fine with me, it gave me an excuse to waste some ones. Since we didnt hang out very often, I had a bad feeling when he contacted me about a month before last Halloween.

He called me up at about seven in the morning on a Saturday, which is too early to even consider waking up, in my opinion. I answered in a daze and he started running his mouth like crazy, as though afraid that, if he didnt get it all out at once, he never would.

Mike, hey, Mikey, listen, buddy, I need your help, okay? Okay, okay, Ive got this idea for a performance and, well, its going to be , you know? So good! Its going down on Halloween. Can you come help? Look, Ill even pay you, man. Fifty dollars. So how bout it?

Now, Ive never cared much about Halloween one way or the other, and Im a pretty easy guy. Fifty dollars to probably just sit there and run a fog machine or some bullshit? For the right price, I could even pretend that I wanted to be there. Besides, what else are friends for?

A few days later, he gave me the details. To be honest, I was a little shocked when he sent the email. I know that performance art is intended to be edgy and can sometimes get a little dangerous, but this seemed downright negligent.

Mike:

Thanks for agreeing to do this for me! Ive talked to a few other people, but they werent really comfortable with it, for reasons youll probably be able to figure out. Of course, I understand if you want to back out, but I think you are probably the most reliable person I know. Its really not that big of a deal, Im sure youll agree.

As Im sure youve noticed, vampires have become very prominent in the media as of late. I say vampires because they are beginning to deviate so wildly from the traditional myths that they resemble forest fairies more than anything else. Altruistic? Sparkly? Whiny? Give me a break. We need more Dracula! We need more Carmilla! We need more death, destruction, and blood!

My performance will center on the theme of rebirthing the vampire. For the vampire to be reborn, he must first be buried. To turn peoples attentions back to the myths of old, I will be doing just that: I will be burying the vampire.

I have a group of viewers signed up already to participate in the performance, so you dont need to worry about that. Im going to plant a series of vampire-themed clues around town for them to follow. The clues should be pretty simple, and it will probably take no more than an hour to an hour-and-a-half for them to find me.

Here comes the somewhat controversial part. Essentially, for this performance to have any semblance of meaning, I need to be buried alive. Dont worry, its perfectly safe: I have a buddy from back home who is building me a coffin with a hole in the top. Ill be fixing it with a pipe that will stick an inch or two above the ground. That way, I wont run out of air. Ill also have a few necessities in the coffin in case something happens: food, water, and a flashlight.

Once they arrive at my grave which will be completely vampirized they will be provided with an array of shovels and will bring me back to life, a reincarnation of the true mythological history of vampires.

Here is where you come in. I need you to bury me. In addition, I need you to be my safety net: if they cant find me, if something goes wrong, if I become sick, I need you to be the one to get me out or call the police, if necessary. Ill also need you to decorate my grave, make it really creepy dont worry, Ill send you some blueprints.

I know this is a little stressful and it may take some time for you to decide, but, rest assured, this is a completely safe project. Theres no danger of suffocation and the coffin is sturdy, so its very unlikely that it will collapse. I really just need you there for support and the actual hard work of burying me.

What do you say? Id even be willing to up your pay to a hundred dollars, if thats what you need.

Let me know!

RIP,

Ben

I stared at my screen for a few minutes, completely dumbfounded.

Once I cut through all the bullshit about art and vampires and rebirth, what it came down to was death.

This guy actually wanted me to almost kill him.

I mean, sure, it probably WAS safe. But my mind went over the plan slowly. What if I couldnt get him out in time? One shovel and a pit of dirt wouldnt be a fast job. Furthermore, what if something happened to me?

Before making a decision, I sent him another email asking if he was really sure he was up for this. Of course he knew, he said. And then he said something that would always stick with me.

Art must be a little dangerous, my friend, for it to be real.

A month later, I found myself standing at the foot of a grave. It was six feet deep and perfectly rectangular. Sitting at the bottom was a tapered coffin covered with black lacquer, a white skull painted on the top. In the eye of the skull was a hole just big enough for the PVC pipe. Stenciled underneath was a line from Dracula: Denn die Todten reiten schnell.

I stood there like an idiot, waiting for Ben to show up.

In the end, Id decided to go along with his stupid gig. Ben was a stubborn bastard, and if I didnt help him, someone else would. At least, thats the justification I gave myself. But the real reason was that, deep inside my heart, his words were still echoing.

Id ended up doing a little more work than I had intended. For one, I had to place his stupid clues around the city. It wasnt hard work, but it took some time to get them all in the proper places. Luckily for Ben, they were pretty obvious clues. There was no need to worry that his participants would be unable to find him.

Ben had set up the grave and the coffin a few days prior to Halloween. It was out in the woods just on the outskirts of town, no chance of it being disturbed. Id tried to talk him out of burying it the whole six feet down.

If something happens and I need to get you out fast, what will I do? Cant you put it closer to the surface?

Ben had just shaken his head in exasperation. You just dont get it, do you? It has to be done right. Remember what I told you.

So I shrugged and let him mess around with whatever dumbassery would get him off.

I was just beginning to wonder if I should have brought more beer this promised to be a long night when Ben showed up.

I had to restrain my laughter when I saw his getup. A cheap Dracula costume from Wal-mart had never looked so pathetic, especially when topped off with those cheap plastic fangs. Hed greased his hair back and painted on a widows peak.

I couldnt resist. Wow, seriously, dude?

He gave me a stern look. Its a comment on the commercialization of vampires and horror as we know it today. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a walkie talkie. Here, take one. The range isnt very far, but my cell phone wont work that far underground. Youll have to stay nearby. Let me know if youre going out of range.

I shrugged and took it. Okay, but you brought your cell just in case, right?

Nah, what good will it do if it doesnt work?

This guys batshit insane, I thought. But he handed me the hundred dollars and, suddenly, it didnt seem to matter anymore.

I helped him into the coffin and shut the lid. He seemed pretty calm if it were me, I knew Id be having a panic attack. I fit the PVC pipe into the hole. It slid in perfectly snug. I climbed out of the coffin and grabbed my shovel, taking one last look at the shiny black peeking out from the dirt.

With a resigned shrug, I started to shovel in the dirt. Okay, well, he asked for this, I thought.

It took almost a full hour to get all the dirt piled in. The PVC pipe was just barely visible over the grave. I piled the earth around it to hide it as well as I could. Then, I set up the rest of the grave: a hideously gothic headstone made of Styrofoam, and cheap Wal-mart flowers. Once it was finally finished, I sat back against a tree and waited.

There was an awful lot of waiting to be done.

Three hours later, his participants still hadnt come.

Hed buzzed in on the walkie talkie a few times, asking if theyd shown up. I continually answered in the negative, wondering how long hed be willing to keep up this charade. He must be getting worried, I thought, staring at my watch. It was already 10 pm and not a soul to be seen.

Hey, Mike? Something must have happened, I dont think theyre coming. Can you get me out of here? Bens voice crackled and faded in and out of the static fuzz. I took another swig of my beer and heaved a sigh.

Of course they werent coming. They were frantically searching for the last clue. My hand crept into my pocket as I felt it folded there, the creases poking at the soft flesh of my palm.

Mike? Are you there? Did you go out of range?

I turned the walkie talkie off. I didnt need it anymore, anyway. Carefully, I picked up a handful of disturbed earth from the top of the makeshift grave. I poured it down the pipe and listened.

I heard the muffled exclamation, the series of expletives. I thought I could hear a thumping sound he must be hitting the top of the coffin. I smiled a little to myself as I poured some more dirt in through the pipe.

Bens struggles got louder and I felt a certain heat rising up in me. Oh, I knew it could be good, but I didnt know it could be good. This was incredible. This was perfect. This was .

Eventually, I grew bored of shoving the earth down into the coffin. I could hear Bens screaming and sobbing reverberating up the pipe. I yanked a handkerchief out of my back pocket and stuffed it inside. I made sure to plug it up good and tight.

It would only be a matter of time, now. Assuming he could regulate his breathing, he could possibly have a few hours. But I knew he was panicking. And that would simply serve to shorten his time.

The pounding grew weaker as I finished my beer. Once I was certain there was no saving him, I went to finish my work.

Ben was right everything really did go off without a hitch. I dont know what I was so worried about.

Id gone to find his lost sheep, the wayward participants who were scrambling in frustration for the last clue. I scolded them for making us wait so long, acted the part of the reluctant friend indulging his lunatic companion. I took them out to the grave. It was now past midnight.

They sat hushed as I gave the stupid speech that Ben had prepared for me. Everything seemed normal Id made sure to stow the rag before anyone could see it.

Friends, foes, and everyone in between. Tonight we gather to resurrect the ancient horror that has plagued mankind for centuries. Its tale, once a gruesome epic of blood and seduction, has become nothing more than commercialized fodder as society has aged. Now, the time has come for the phoenix to burn and rise again. So, too, shall the blood-soaked visage of the vampire! My voice resonated throughout the woods, and the morons in attendance clapped as they all reached for their shovels.

We dug him up in about half an hour. It was much faster work with his host of suckers. It was good that we reached the coffin quickly, because I could barely contain my excitement.

Two of the men opened the coffin and screamed. The women leaned in over the grave to peek as well, full of expectancy. There was something dreadful about the scene, to be sure.

Bens face had gone gray, sprayed over with a few specs of dirt. His hands were bloody, his fingernails pried off. Deep scratches decorated the top of the lid. The men who had opened his tomb dragged him out in a panic, unsure if this was part of the performance or not. A few moments of silent listening at his chest produced no heartbeat. The proclamation was definitive: he was dead.

They screamed. They called the police. They alternatively looked at his body and shielded themselves from its horror, enraptured yet struggling.

They ignored me.

But that was fine. It was fine because they were admiring my work, the work of the artist. Finally, I had been given this opportunity to prove my worth. Finally, I had found my sacrificial lamb. And it had been a rousing success. The heat raging in my body affirmed that much. I didnt even care if I was caught, so long as I could have this moment to hold for the rest of my life.

Ben was right. I should have known a man of principle never lies. And I owe him a debt of gratitude, for realizing the artist within me.

Art must be a little dangerous for it to be real.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/every-halloween-i-have-a-story-i-like-to-tell/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/172357360662

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samanthasroberts · 6 years