The scene fades back in, with Ian sighing and still sitting in his chair. He looks up at the ceiling, sighing softly once again. "Wish me luck for tomorrow..." Ian says to above. "Hell, I don't even believe in you and I'm talking to you up there..." He chuckles a little bit. Is he referring to...God? I don't believe in him either, and I know Ian doesn't. Is he really that desperate to...you know..."leave" that he's willing to talk to someone he doesn't even believe in. Wow... That's just...wow. I don't know exactly what to think of that. "I think everything's ready...except I need to go to the store and get the bottles....again," Ian grumbles in annoyance. He takes the note in hand. "And in the morning I'm going to have to........house," The rest is too quiet for me to hear clearly. "Please say that again?" I say. Oh wait. Godammit, I always fucking forget that he can't hear me and it makes me so fucking frustrated with my fucking self and I say fuck a lot. Fucking hell. Ian hops out of his seat, holding the note tightly. "This is going to happen..." He mumbles. "After all this planning...it's all falling into place." "Well, this going to be the first time I ask you to fuck up. Please just fuck up at this. I can help you....we can work this out," I blurt out, not even caring if he can hear me or not. His eyes widen again and they meet mine. "Is that?....Is that....no," Ian blinks a few times and his eyes relax. "I swear...I keep seeing things," He hits his hand on his face, walking towards the bedroom. Did he...see me? Oh right, we're in the present. The same rules don't apply to the present as they do to the past (I assume, let's hope my assumption is right). Ian flops down on his bed, and gets under the covers. "This will be the last time I fall asleep...." He mumbles another few words after that, of which I can't understand due to it all being muffled against his pillow. Dammit, can he please speak louder? I love hearing what he's thinking...it's interesting to hear a different perspective. "Goodnight....self...." He mumbles, drifting off. "Goodnight Ian..." I sigh. "Author?" I call out, looking around the house. "Authoooorrr? It's over...nothing's happening, let's move on." No one replies. God damnit what the fuck is she up to now. Did she just leave me here?
-FESTIVE TIME SKIP-
She fades in, in front of me. "What took you so long? I've been waiting forever...and everyone knows I'm the most impatient person in the world. You should know that, you can mind read." My frustration rises with each word that slips out of my mouth. "Sorry Anthony, I was busy talking with the big guys upstairs." "Gods?" "Well, sorta. It's a departed goverment. Aka, ghost-president democracy type thing. You see, they make the rules and they aren't very happy with me right now." "Why's that may I ask?" "It doesn't matter right now. Anyways. You know what time it is?" "Ummm....2:59?" I guess, looking over at the digital clock. "Exactly. You have 59 seconds. Well, now it's 57, 56, 55-" "Yeah yeah I get the idea." Almost a full minute passes. BRRRRRIIIIIUNNNNNNG the bell goes. Then it goes again. BRIIIIINNNGGGGUNNGGGG. Then it goes a third time. BRRIIIIIUUUUNNNNGGGGUIIINGNGGGG. With that bell, Author takes my hand as fast as she possibly can. Should I dread this moment? I want to know more.....I need to know more. What brought Ian to do this? The scene disappears all of a sudden, throwing off my train of thought. I know this way too well....
(A/N) Reasons why you should follow me on twitter (aka here are some tweets that I have tweeted):
"What if one day no one understood sarcasm so we thought the world was a nicer place but in reality we're all just assholes"
"Some people wonder why the fuck I swear so fucking much. Well fuck you"
"*continues to call 30 year old men from my fandoms "my babies"*"
""Do you like boys or girls?" I like food and Ian Hecox"
There is more to come, stay tuned (only if you follow me on TWWEEEETER)
IT'S CHRISTMAS EVE BITCHEZZZZ
Or whatever you celebrate