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A year ago I was at a village fair, and I passed out briefly from PMS pain. I was taken home and, for the first time, given sweet tea, i.e. Tea, with alot of sugar. I had never had tea with sugar before that point, and I can honestly say I hated it. I was all grouchy and writhing around in horrendous pain, and drinking that stuff at that point was disgusting.
BUT today, I had a similar fainting episode in the town library. After a drink of water I felt a little best, so I headed home ASAP, at which point my dad insisted I drank the sweet tea again.
This time, I loved it. I loved it because although I was scared, I had had a brilliant day, i was ultimately relaxed, in no pain, and my head was full of smiley thoughts :)
SO...why's this significant? WELL, when I fainted in the library, I was with a guy I knew. When I first met the guy, I was hung over, shattered and generally a bad tempered bitch. I thought, eek, not my type, just nice and sweet and irritating. Today's what changed my mind. We studied together (briefly :P), went out for coffee and chatted for ages. And he's not just sweet, he's funny, witty, intelligent, etc. He was the one who got me a drink and made sure I was ok. He ended up buying me loads of drinks throughout the day, refusing to let me pay anything even though he doesn't have alot.
Sometimes you gotta give things another try, or else miss out on something brilliant.
Guess I was wrong about sweet tea afterall ;)
- Mood:
touched
- Mood:
anxious
( Pic here )
- Mood:
artistic
Ok this is where things start getting angsty, other than a few swearwords and dark suggestions, there isn't anything concerning in this chap, but be warned: adult content is on its way!
- Mood:
curious
- Mood:
complacent
A bit of adult dodgyness in this chapter, but I'm sure it's nothing any angst reader can't handle...
- Mood:
apathetic
( Click here for chapter 3 )
</div>He dug with despair through the battered wallet, though his current surroundings made the defiled leather gleam with pride in comparison. The place was a dump; the roof was leaking and the scrawny damp mat was accommodating all manner of foul stains and cigarette burns.
“Sir? I said that’ll be 8 dollars.”
He mumbled an apology and resumed searching his wallet for whatever he had left in the world. How had it come to this? A month ago he’d been a millionaire – everything had been perfect. He’d been surrounded by all kinds of remotely useful people – drink carriers, clipboard holders, clothes pickers, then suddenly Vince had landed it on him that he was no longer “a significant character of WWE”, and with those words, his entire world had collapsed about his ears. He’d learnt just how much of his luxuries had been covered by the business, and as a result, all had been withdrawn. Then came the break up. He’d suspected Becca was feeling deflated and restrained by life as a fulltime mother and housewife, but the enormity of her feelings hadn’t hit him until it was too late.
Now here he was. Former wreslter. Former Husband. Former millionare. Broke.
He coughed up a few dollar bills and various change, which the receptionist regarded with a sharp eye.
“I um…that should be enough.”
She sifted through the money carefully with long, bony fingers, before sighing regrettably.
“You’re a dollar and 50 cents short.”
Shawn frowned and resumed violating his wallet, this time with considerable anxiousness. There had to be more…that couldn’t be all…what happened to the money he’d got for last month’s exclusive interview? Of course. His savings account. His stripped, exploited savings account. There had to be a little money left in there, but his credit card had long since been withdrawn and the bank would be closed by now anyway.
“Do you have the extra money or not?” She snapped, clearly impatient to finish up and go to bed.
“Umm….I’m sure I got some here somewhere…”
She sighed as she watched the handsome, honey-faced man desperately rip open his shoulder bag and burrow violently through the various clothes and last minute packing like some sort of possessed hare.
“Look,” He panted, “maybe we can make a deal…”
“Sir, I can’t give you a room unless you give me the right amount.”
His baby blue eyes turned very fearful and childlike. “Come on, its only a buck or so.”
His baby blue eyes turned very fearful and childlike. “Come on, its only a buck or so.”
“Sir, I’m not permitted to accept anything less than the full price.”
“Please.”
“Why don’t you find somewhere else to stay, sir? I can’t help you.”
Shawn’s anguished expression twisted into one of disdain. “Fuck you.” He hissed, and with that, he swept up his money and stormed out into the night.
- Mood:
confused
Pairing: Some Shawter later on, umm Shawn/others maybe
Rating: M. Is that the highest one? Not sure.
Genre: Angst/Drama, hurt/comfort
Warnings: Dark themes, slash, adult situations
A/N: Ok this is my first shawn fic so please be nice and do not flame. I didn't mean to make it so diturbing, it just kinda.....wrote itself....? But please remember it's complete fiction (obviously) oh and I don't own anything (obvious again).
Summary: Shawn's fallen on hard times, and things only get worse, to the point where he lands himself in a living nightmare. Can anyone save him from this personal hell?
( Read more... )
“What do you want, Shawn?” Her voice cut him fresh. This was the woman who had changed his entire perception of the world, given him a God, and two beautiful children. This was the woman who had cheated on him, reported him after he’d lashed out, wrung him dry with an extensive, agonizing divorce, and stopped by his piteous remains for a last minute all-you-can carry cash scramble for cash. He felt the tears finally birth, hit by the immensity of what he had to do.
“Becca I-” He stifled a sob. “I need you to take the kids.”
“Shawn…”
“Please, Becca. I need you to get rid of them before I change my mind and put them through hell. Please, please just do this for the kids, please…” He broke down.
On the other end of the line, Becca’s heart wrenched.
“Okay, Shawn,” She replied stoically, “Okay.”
“Okay, Shawn,” She replied stoically, “Okay.”
Shawn simply could not face seeing his wife’s face again – Instead, he phoned an old friend of Becca’s, who agreed to supervise the children at the park until their mom came to collect them. Shawn sat on the swing next to his daughter, enduring an excruciating wait, until at last Julie’s car arrived. The moment it pulled up his entire being lurched. This was it...goodbye.
To say it had been difficult would be an insulting understatement. Shawn had given up being the tough guy and let the tears run freely into the palms of his little princess. He ruffled his son’s hair with trembling fingers that mourned the absence of those soft young locks the second they were withdrawn. He barely noticed Julie, but she didn’t need his acknowledgement – she knew of the whole thing, and although she tried to conceal it, the pity was there. Turning his back had been turning against an overwhelming, fundamental current of love and everything that felt right. Now all he was met with was the grimy littered sidewalk, a lost-looking sachel and the dying shriek of his daughter.- Mood: creative
Title: Fallen From Grace
Pairing: Some Shawter later on, umm Shawn/others maybe
Rating: M. Is that the highest one? Not sure.
Genre: Angst/Drama, hurt/comfort
Warnings: Dark themes, slash, adult situations
A/N: Ok this is my first shawn fic so please be nice and do not flame. I didn't mean to make it so diturbing, it just kinda.....wrote itself....? But please remember it's complete fiction (obviously) oh and I don't own anything (obvious again).
Summary: Shawn's fallen on hard times, and things only get worse, to the point where he lands himself in a living nightmare. Can anyone save him from this personal hell?
( Read more... )
</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Only Shawn knew why. He could not explain such a thing to such innocent ears, nor had he any pride left to even try. He cowered like an abused dog when one of the men brushed past him, and his brawny wrestler arms were now good for nothing other than hugging himself in a vain attempt to put his tortured mind at ease. He could have been the biggest guy in the business – it wouldn’t have mattered. No arm was stronger than that of the law.
All he wanted to do was cry. Cry for all the love that had leaked out of this once beautiful house; cry for the looks on his children’s faces as they waited for their dad to jump to the rescue; cry for the beautiful wife he’d scared off, the messy divorce, the money peeled away from him by casinos and seductive salespersons and his ex wife. The knot in his throat snarled to be set free, but so long as his kids were still at his side, he was still daddy, and daddy never cried.
“Come on, kids, we’re going out.”
“Where?”
“I don’t wanna!”
“Cameron!”
“I want my stuff back dad! Dad! Where are they taking it? Tell them to bring it back! DAD!”
“SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP, OKAY?!”
The boy’s round face cracked like a red boiled sweet. He channelled all his anger and confusion and fear at a man currently heaving an original Jim Dine painting towards the door, towards whom he hurtled, and started pummelling with his tiny blunt fists.
“GIVE IT BACK!! THAT’S MOMMY’S!! YOU CAN’T TAKE THAT!! WHEN SHE COMES BACK SHES GONNA BE SO MAD!”
The man shot a leathal glance at Shawn, whose blue eyes begged for him to humour his misled son.
“Easy there, kiddo. We’re just gonna clean it and bring it right back. Your mommy told us to because she knew that silly daddy would never clean anything when she was away. She told us to take everything out, clean it real good and put it all back again. Promise.”
The boy was stricken with bewilderment; he didn’t know whether to allow himself to be relieved.
“Really?”
“You bet. Now go out with your daddy and have a nice time.”
Tentatively, Cameron retreated, and clutched his dad’s shaky hand. Shawn took his children out of the house in silence, head locked downwards as to avoid the eyes of the removal men, all of which were sweetened sickly with too much pity. He couldn’t cope with pity. People could hate him, laugh at him…but never could they look down on him.
- Mood:
busy
i am known as any of the following: mysweetprince, mysweetprince2, goodnightmysweetprince,goodnitemysweetpr
I'm a wrestler fan and a johnny depp fan, and I write fanfiction and make various manips and other art on the computer. Atm im specialising in 21 jump street fanfic and shawn michaels fanfic, but im pretty lenient and my fandoms do change given time. my ff.net is here:
http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1121712/goo
yeah its pretty lousy. not much goin on down there atm, just a few jumpstreet stories that are quite old now. But keep an eye out if you share my fandom interests, as no doubt theyll be new stuff on there soon.
Anyways, I'm gonna use this journal for dumping various fics and artwork for now, so please take the time to leave a comment as Ill get back to u since i dont think ill be getting very many XD xxxxx
- Mood: nerdy
