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taeescript · 4 years ago

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29+1 (Part One)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (taehyung x reader if you squint real hard)

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin (diva!seokjin)

𝔴𝔠: 3.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: heavy use of alcohol as a coping mechanism, a plethora of sarcasm (please don’t be offended) and a sprinkle of softness (is that a warning?).

𝔞/𝔫: this sat in my unwritten folder since 2017 no lie. I wrote the premise and a singular paragraph at that time, then just gave up. I opened it a few days ago, got inspired again and this word vomit came out (heavily influenced by a midnight Zoom call with my friends). Ngl this was so much fun to write, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. This will probably be in three parts. 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: I did not know that DailyHive is an actual online news source when writing. This work is purely fictional and has absolutely nothing to do with the real DailyHive.

part two

Your friends have a saying: After 29, nobody shares their age until they’ve accomplished something.

In the past, you didn’t understand it. What’s so bad about saying you’re 30 or you’re 32? That’s still a young age! Sure, you’re not exactly in your prime anymore but you’re not old, right?

So, you continue in your own wondrous world of naïveté until that fateful day at your class reunion. You had simply been walking around, minding your own business when you had been stopped by an old colleague.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” she waves you down.

You smile kindly, not even bothering to try and remember her name (you sucked at names, what could you say).

“Hey…you!” you chuckle lightly, “How have you been doing?”

An everyday question leading to catastrophic effects.

“Oh you know,” she says and rolls her eyes as if you truly did know, “I’ve just been out and about. Did I tell you though? I got married last year!” She holds out her hand in which a giant diamond adorns her finger. “Wow!” you gasp, feigning interest. It’s not that you aren’t happy for her, but you are reminded of just how single you are currently. When was the last time you felt another human’s touch? Does kissing come back as easily as riding a bicycle? “Hey!” she says suddenly, “I’m actually meeting with a couple of friends from our class. You should come join! I’m sure they’d be happy to see you again!” You want to wave her off, but against your better judgment, you find yourself following in her footsteps and listening to her speak about wedding venues and honeymoon destinations.

“Oh my god!” another female voice filters in.

The “couple of friends” this old classmate had mentioned is in fact a fairly impressive size of twenty. This is also the third time the wedding announcement has been made.

“Last year?” the female continues, “Weren’t you young?”

Yes, you want to respond. Yes she was young. A full 365 days younger than she is now.

Your classmate, Sooyoung (or Kiko as she insists going by now) titters in front of you. “I mean, you can sort of say I’m a late bloomer. I got married when I was 31.”

Her words unintentionally cut into you. Here you are at 29 without a beau in sight. You take a fast swig of your beer and end up hitting the empty glass with a clink to your teeth. Nobody notices.

“Enough about me, however, how about you?”

“I started my own business actually. It’s been doing really well and it’s been a crazy mind. Imagine me, my own boss at only 33!”

You nervously join them when they suddenly laugh together.

“Hi, can I get another pint please? Actually add a tequila shot to that,” you whisper the last part to the waitress you had just stopped.

And that was how the rest of the night went. People asking one another what they had accomplished. Any moment in time after 30 would not be mentioned until somebody travelled to Uganda to build houses at 31 or another gave birth at the same age. Below 30, anything would be attributed to luck or in your case…

“What are you doing currently?” somebody asks you, “The little baby of our class.”

Swallowing your third tequila shot of the night, you wonder for the umpteenth time how you had become a part of this giant sharing circle. You wonder if it’s a blessing or a curse that you had graduated a little early and thus was younger than most of your peers.

“Well,” you start, “I’m currently working at DailyHive.”

“Ohh!” a man gushes. You recognize him as the once-upon-a-time science partner you used to cheat notes off of. “I use DailyHive nearly as much as Instagram these days. You guys cover everything from news to sports to fashion.”

You shrug. “Yeah. It’s, uh… it’s a pretty big company!”

“What are you doing there?”

Kiko-ex-Sooyoung hits the man teasingly on the shoulder. “Y/N is probably the Director of Marketing or something. Remember how she used to spend all class doodling in her notebook?”

“Or sleeping!” someone quips.

You don’t join in when they all laugh.

“I’m…an intern,” you say with as much pride as you can in a group of established professionals ranging from dermatologists to that one guy who had flown around the world as a TedTalk guest speaker.

A hushed silence befalls everyone.

“That’s…cool!” the same man encourages you, “Interns are totally rad! Everyone wants an intern spot these days.”

His girlfriend pats your arm, almost empathetically. “Yeah. I know a bunch of people who first start off as interns and then they shoot up the ladder quick enough. As long as you’re no longer an intern at 30, you’re golden!”

Once again, the entire group laughs as if she has said the most hilarious of jokes.

She composes herself and says to you, “Because after that, you should have accomplished something.”

Her words still ring in your ears as you sit at your desk this morning.

Yeah…something. All you need to do is accomplish something in the next three months before you are officially, 29 + 1.

Your fingers tap against your thighs silently while you observe the current debate that is occurring in the conference room. You barely have time to sweep the falling hair back behind your ear as your fingers ferociously fly across the keyboard to keep in track with the meeting.

Fei is arguing that the implement of a new search word system would boost users while Daniel says that it is a waste of resources. Instead, everything should be put into updating the entire system as a whole. You have long since lost track of their words as neither pertain to what you do as an intern.

“Enough,” the CEO of DailyHive holds up a hand. His one word causes the entire room to hush over – truly, the words of a god.

And that might as well be what he is. With his hair swept back and a lone tendril curling perfectly above his brow, Kim Seokjin is legitimately a walking god. Off his broad shoulders hang an expensive white linen suit bought with his pocket change and your yearly salary. A pair of sunglasses hangs in the V of the collared shirt dipping low enough to blur the lines between being fashionably professional and just downright sexy.

The snap of his fingers brings you back to the present.

He dramatically rolls his eyes and accepts that you are an incompetent minute-taker.

“I have to remember that the world just doesn’t move as fast as I do.”

- Quote: Rolling Stones 2019 Kim Seokjin.

Now if only he’d remember he had once said that.

He points at each of them with one finger, then swipes to the left. “Both of you, solve this outside. I don’t want to hear your voices any longer. You two from the marketing team, Ungroomed Stache and Acne Chin, create me a report if we are to implement Ms. Song’s idea. The two of you from…” he takes a pause here clearly having forgotten who his employees are, “The two of you do the same thing but for Mr. Hwang.”

The pair from accounting open their mouth to protest that they are in charge of only numbers, but they are ignored.

“All of you out now. Except you,” he points his finger directly at you, “Stay.”

Nobody utters a single word until they have all left and you are left alone with him. Standing before him with your hands folded nicely in front of you, you blink and wait.

He stares right back at you, picks up his coffee mug and drops it. The clatter of ceramic smashing against the ground causes a pause in the loud buzz outside the room. You know everybody’s focus has been shifted into the room.

“Do you want to kill me?” he drawls.

You take a long inhale. “No,” you say.

“No?” he repeats the word, “Well I think you do. Did you check this coffee before you brought it to me? I tasted cinnamon in it. You know how I’m allergic to cinnamon. Get me a new cup. And this mess, get somebody to clean it. I don’t want the smell of coffee in this room when I have my next meeting here in twenty. I’m taking a smoke a break.”

He stands up and brushes past you without saying anything else.

Nobody can be allergic to cinnamon. Besides if he had actually tasted cinnamon and was that sensitive, he would be dead. And good riddance to that.

Of course, you say none of this and wordlessly begin to pick up the broken ceramic pieces of the dead mug. The bustling outside the meeting room has returned back to its normal state of chaos. Seeing the ugly stain of coffee on the once pristine carpet causes you to swear beneath your breath.

“Who the fuck is allergic to cinnamon?” a new voice says, sliding up beside you.

The second god in DailyHive; the much nicer and evidently preferred Kim; Taehyung takes the mug pieces from you and drops it into the garbage bin.

Blessed with not only intelligence but devilishly model-like features, he is your desk buddy in the small space allotted for interns and your sole friend in the company.

“Tae,” you sigh with exasperation upon seeing your lifesaver, “What am I going to do about this stain? He’s going to return in fifteen and there’s no way I can get a coffee stain out of this expensive-ass carpet.”

Taehyung taps a long finger to his lips, leaves the room briefly, and returns with a roll of Bounty sheets and a can of Febreze. He promptly blots as much of the coffee off from the carpet then proceeds to pull the meeting table.

“C’mon, Y/N, don’t just stand there. Help me! Time is of the essence!”

You laugh and join him in moving the table so that one of the legs cover the stain 80% of the way. Once he is satisfied, he takes the Febreze and sprays until the whole room smells like “Hawaiian Aloha”.

“You’re welcome.” He gives an extravagant bow, the motion popping open the top button of his shirt to expose a surprisingly chiseled chest.

Fei returns back into the room holding a phone to her ear and a clipboard in her left hand. “What the hell? It smells like a Bath & Body Works in here. Intern, aren’t you supposed to be filing or something? Stop standing around and be useful.” She grips Taehyung’s arm and drags him out of the room. “Button up. This is a professional workplace.”

You give him a tiny wave as Taehyung is steered away by his girlfriend and back to the cubicles.

Taehyung may be your saviour at work, but outside, it cannot be denied that your brother is the true Fountain of Life.

A week has passed since the coffee incident (you suspect a cleaning personnel had found the stain and cleaned up after your improv as aforementioned stain can no longer be found), but Jimin still brings it up.

“I still can’t believe that he said he was allergic to cinnamon. I’ve never heard of such bullshit before,” your brother says over the phone. You can practically hear his eyeroll from across the world.

As a renowned ophthalmologist, you have not seen Jimin for close to a year as he has been initiating his new clinic, a flying eye hospital.

“You should hear his Starbucks order. I always feel like I’m ready to launch my next EP whenever I’m at the counter,” you say.

Jimin laughs. There is the muffled sounds of voices as his never-ending flow of patients have arrived for the day.

“I shouldn’t keep you,” you say upon hearing that, “You’re probably really busy.”

“No,” he says, “I’ve got a few minutes if you’ve got a few. I miss talking to my baby sister.”

“I’m not a baby anymore, Jiminie,” you say using the nickname he hated.

“Oh that’s right. Your birthday’s in a little under three months, right? My baby sister is turning the big three-oh.”

“God, don’t remind me.”

“Want me to come visit you?”

You contemplate the idea once, having not seen Jimin in quite a while.

“Only if you have time. But I feel like Mom and Dad would probably want to see you more. Speaking of which, um… How are Mom and Dad?”

“They’re good. I hear Dad is finally going to retire this year. He’s giving his practice to Kibum, you remember him? Mom will probably start pestering us about what to do for his retirement party.”

There is a pause.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to say hi to them once in a while.”

You sigh. “And say what? Hey, it’s me. The child that ran away from home at 18? Yeah, I’m not a doctor like everybody else in the family but a 29 year old intern at a popular app company. Whassuuup?”

“Y/N, that’s not what I – ”

“It’s okay, Jimin. I’ve come to accept that not everybody is cut out to be a doctor. I just wish Mom and Dad could realize that.”

Jimin sighs on your behalf. There is the sound of a crying child coming through the earphone. “Well, your contract expires a few weeks after your birthday, right? Who knows, you might be the next Mark Zuckerberg.”

He has never explicitly inquired about your life plan and you know this is as much as he is willing to push without asking, “What’s next after this intern hiccup?” At least he had the decency to compare you to a controversial Internet entrepreneur.

The child is crying much louder now.

“Again with my birthday. But I’ll let you know,” is the only reply you can come up with at the moment. “Okay, brother, go forth and heal the blind. I bless thee in the name of the Holy Spirit, Son and Ghost.”

There is true laughter that rings from Jimin as he ends the call. “It’s Father, Son and Holy Ghost you dweeb. I love you sis.”

“You too.” You hang up first before he can add anything else.

With that, you enter into the 7am Starbucks queue and prepare yourself in running the first single of your long overdue EP.

Seokjin leans back in his chair, watching you from inside his office. Today he has chosen a black turtleneck and a brazen maroon-nearly purple suit jacket to complete the outfit. For once, there is an empty mug of coffee beside him and his morning headache has been appeased.

He knew he had given you an impossible task.

“Compile all the troubleshooting errors we have received since the launch of DailyHive. Organize it in a manner that allows me to identify the most prominent problem. Run it through whomever you please before giving it to me. I don’t need to waste my time correcting your mistakes.”

There is an amused smile that bubbles beneath his otherwise stoic features. He cannot deny that there is, might he dare say, a cute quality about you as you manually scan through the received concerns on your laptop dating back to the initial beta tests – the ones that were lost in a data crash and only backed up with unintelligible scribblings of previous interns.

The moment you had been introduced as the new intern, you had caught his eye. You are exquisitely mundane, and perhaps the reason you had even caught him the first time was due to solely to the fact that you were older than most interns – himself even. Nevertheless, you continue to present him small surprises in your tenacity and capability to tackle challenges.

“Mr. Kim.”

His intercom comes alive with the voice of his secretary.

Seokjin’s eyes do not leave you as he answers.

“Mr. Hwang is on line two. Would you like me to defer him to a later time if you are currently busy?”

Seokjin cannot help but sigh. Hwang Junho, his co-founder, while a genius in international business is also a notorious chatterbox and gossip. There is seldom a reason for Junho to call him except to relay the cover titles of E!Magazine.

“Did he mention a reason for calling?” Seokjin inquires.

His secretary seems to be reading from a note. “He says it’s to do with the company. Something he read from Cosmopolitan this morning.”

So not E! but another sister celebrity gossip blog. He checks his watch and duly notes that he certainly has no meetings scheduled until later in the afternoon where your report would be needed to run a preliminary analysis.

“Sir?”

“Yes, put him through. But tell him I’ve got only five minutes, so he’s better give me the Cliffnotes version,” Seokjin sighs again.

Before he can be connected, Seokjin quickly says, “What’s the name of that intern again?”

“Who?” his secretary asks, “We’ve hired four since the beginning of the year.”

“The one who keeps wanting to poison me.”

“I’m sorry, Sir?” she sounds concerned.

“The one who keeps forgetting that I despise cinnamon.”

There is no response.

“The older one. Spilled coffee a while ago but still has enough coordination to pull together a decent report.”

“Ah,” she says.

He waits patiently as she searches through the database, eventually giving him your name. He gives a slight pause and then says, “Good. Now patch me with Junho.”

There is a momentary buzz as the call becomes connected in which Seokjin turns over the syllables of your name wordlessly.

“Mr. Kim. The man of the hour. How are you, my brother?” Junho’s baritone fills the office in a manner of seconds.

Despite the little annoying quirks, Seokjin cannot help but smile when hearing the voice of his best friend.

“You’ve got three minutes, Junho.”

Junho grumbles. “That’s not my fault. You were the one still on the line with your secretary. Is it still Yerin? ‘Cuz I won’t blame you if that’s the case. Did I catch you doing some naughty phone sex during office hours?”

“Two.”

“Holy hell. Fine. It’s always business with you. That’s why the tabloids are always writing you as an uptight asshole.”

This shifts Seokjin’s attention to the phone. His name is seldomly mentioned except for the features in business columns. He prefers to stay out of the limelight.

“What?”

“Put your name on Google.”

Seokjin does as he is told.

There are millions of results, but the first few pages share the same headline. He clicks on the first one with a grimace.

“Kim Seokjin. Mr. Worldwide Handsome as noted by his fans, has recently sparked Internet outrage.”

A quick skim of the otherwise trashy article brought to the surface a summary: his last dating scandal had ended badly and the repercussions of blowing off a famous celebrity’s daughter had finally caught up with him. The Internet was calling him arrogant, narrow-minded, and even greedy. “The young Chief Executive Officer of booming social media app DailyHive has been accused of using his relationship with actress XYZ to further his own business. Once he gained recognition from aforementioned relationship, he has cold-heartedly cast her away to pursue his next.” “You’re calling me for this bullshit?” Seokjin scoffs. Junho tuts his tongue loudly. “This is not bullshit. It’s affecting the image of your company. Do you think people want to download and support an app that is run by somebody who is being called cruel and dishonest? You’ve got to address this soon before it gets out of control. You’re lucky I have alerts set for these type of things. I caught it for you just in the nick of time.” Seokjin inhales deeply. “You’re also lucky that I’ve got the perfect solution in mind.” “That is?” “The Silver Gala,” Junho references the prestigious event. The Silver Gala is hosted annually and attended by the largest celebrities as well as other wealthy investors and guests. Those in the social circle shared between Seokjin and Junho often yearned for tickets to attend events such as this, as they serve as excellent networking opportunities. Besides the above, such events are circled by reporters and writers of gossip columns to get the exclusive scoop on any eyebrow-raising rumours. “The solution lies in such an event,” Junho continues, “You know how many people will be there. All you’ve got to do is show up with your average girl-next-door type and it’ll show how you’re actually really humble and down to earth. Kim Seokjin is perfectly capable of dating like any regular human being. He doesn’t use “love” or whatever to further his business. Love is the connection between two souls; two individuals who – ” “Beep. Your time has run out Junho. I’ve got another meeting scheduled right this moment,” Seokjin interrupts. “Dude, seriously. Think about it. You could bring Yerin. Everbody loves a good CEO and his secretary affair. And if that’s too juicy for you, I can introduce you to some girls. Or maybe we could go back to our university days and hit a bar, y’know?” Junho tries his best to persuade. “Fuck!” you swear beneath your breath right as you walk into Kim Seokjin’s office. His door had been open and, in your excitement to show your completed report, you had dropped all the loose papers on the ground. Four hours of organization gone, just like that. You hope that at least Seokjin hasn’t heard or noticed you as he had been engrossed in his phone call. Seokjin had in fact noticed you. He can’t help himself but follow the curvature of your bare shoulder as your bangs escape the hold of your scrunchie and sweep across your skin. “Don’t worry, Junho, I’ve just thought about it,” he says with a smile.

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dreaming-about-fanfictions · 5 years ago

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Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Chapter 4 of 27: Potions

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

CHAPTER 3

A/N: I’m blown away by how many people have started reading my fic. Thank you all so much <3

Words: 3550 Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female!Reader, post-war Warnings: mentions of sex, references to trauma in the form of nightmares

The moments you and Malfoy shared on the Quidditch field that Saturday night kept replaying in your head for weeks. It’s beneath you. The sentence had stuck with you. You knew he was right about it. Ron Weasley didn’t deserve any more of your attention. However, it seemed impossible to get rid of the anger that filled you every time you saw him.

You spent so many days together and never wanted to fall for him – no, you tried to stay away when he first approached you, feeling it was not right. Hermione was your friend and you knew, this behavior would hurt her. But he wouldn’t stop trying to get you to go out with him and before you knew it, he teared down all the walls you had so carefully built around yourself. It was the first time in a long while that you felt like a normal teenager and just when you started to trust him and the first feelings started to blossom – he turned away, acting like your time together never happened. It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. And who was Malfoy to understand that?

You avoided Ron whenever possible, keeping yourself busy with schoolwork and Quidditch. For the first time ever you joined the team and it turned out to be an amazing decision as it took your mind of things. Things mainly being Ron or Malfoy.

You watched Malfoy during meals out of the corner of your eyes. He usually sat together with Zabini, Parkinson and Nott, listening to them but not joining in the conversations apart from the occasional smile or remark. In class, he sat in the back, working quietly on his own. Sometimes you passed him in the hallways or the library and then you noticed him writing in the black notebook over and over.

A strange fascination kept drawing your attention towards the young man. He was not the Malfoy you grew accustomed to over the years – no more stupid fights or devious pranks. A lot less mean remarks and insults. Of course you knew the reason behind his change but it didn’t stop you from searching for his white blond hair in the crowds, wanting to watch him from afar.

You wondered about his life. He spoke about so many personal things that night. Although it was always with a sarcastic or cynical undertone, the painful honesty behind his words now sent shivers down your back when you thought about it. Yet, not once did you talk to him again afterwards – and he avoided you too as far as you could tell. At least, he always looked away when your eyes accidentally met from across the room, focusing on the book in front of him again. That notebook was another riddle. Although you already guessed what it was, you were curious nonetheless.

Soon the days grew colder and the leaves turned brown. Less time was spent outside, more and more did you find yourself huddled in front of the common room fireplace with a mug of hot tea and a good book. Hogwarts started to feel like home again. It was a slow process but each day the memories began to be replaced with new ones. Better ones. For some it was harder than for others. Ginny was one of them. She smiled and laughed loudly during the days but some nights were still difficult.

Tonight was one of them. You opened your eyes, blinking a few times as you needed a moment to fully wake up. Something startled you in your sleep. Then you heard someone tossing and turning – it came from Ginnys bed. You reached for your wand and whispered “Lumos”. Shining the light towards your friend, you saw her distorted facial expressions as her hands kept twitching. She was mumbling something you didn’t understand at first but then one word stood out – Fred.

You were up on your feet in seconds, kneeling next to her bed. “Ginny,” you softly touched her arm. “Ginny, wake up.”

Her eyes flew open and a gasp escaped her lips.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “Just a nightmare.”

“I-I saw –,” she stuttered and looked at you, slowly realizing where she was. When she did however, she remembered about him as well. You saw what would happen next by the way her lips started to tremble and without hesitation pulled her into a hug. Tears were streaming down her face, quiet sobs shaking her whole body. You held her for minutes, stroking her back, wishing you could do something to ease her pain.

At some point Ginny let go of you, reaching for a tissue on her nightstand. “I’m sorry for waking you up,” she mumbled after cleaning her nose.

You smiled empathetically at her. “Don’t worry.”

She sighed, smiling back at you sadly before she started rummaging through the drawer. “Damn,” she pulled out an empty bottle.

“What is it?”, you asked.

“It helps me sleep,” she explained and added – after she saw your worried expression – with a chuckle: “It’s nothing addicting, don’t worry. It’s just … ugh, I knew I forgot something.” She let herself fall back against the pillow.

“Where do you normally get it from?” You looked at the small bottle. It didn’t look like she bought it somewhere. It looked handmade.

“Madame Pomfrey.”

You nodded, standing up to grab a robe. “I’ll get it.”

“No! Oh, Y/N, please don’t, I can manage,” Ginny tried to protest but you shook your head.

“It’s fine, really!”, you smiled at her.

“She’s probably asleep anyways.”

“She always has someone working the night shift. I’ll just grab that –,” you took the battle and put it in the pocket of your robe. “– and I’ll be right back.”

***

Hogwarts at night always felt a little creepy. Dark and long hallways, ghosts passing you by and that eerie silence … A shiver ran down your spine and you sped up a little, wanting to be back in bed as fast as possible.

The door to the hospital wing was open, illuminated by a glimmer of light coming from inside. Good, so someone was there. You slipped through the door and made your way towards the office of Madame Pomfrey.

“Come in,” she called when you knocked on the door.

She was turned away from you, her nose stuck in a book. To your surprise, she wasn’t the only one in the small office. In front of her desk stood no other than … Draco Malfoy.

“Oh.”

Malfoy didn’t look at you. “The healer that has worked for my family for decades said it’s alright,” he said with a pressed voice, directing it at Madame Pomfrey.

The woman sighed softly before she turned around. “Well, honey, your healer probably also gets paid by your family.”

“What that’s supposed to mean?”, Malfoy asked, sounding almost offended.

“Nothing,” she replied. “But I disagree with him. Although the medicine has no immediate side effects, prolonged and excessive use of it can make it stop working altogether. I believe, this wouldn’t help you very much either and –”

“I know, I know,” he interrupted her, clearly having had this talk before.

Madame Pomfrey continued talking in a stern voice: “I refilled your bottle twice during the past ten days – it says so in my book here and I keep very good track of all my patients – so I can’t give you anymore.” A sad smile appeared on her face. “I’m sorry, honey. I can however offer you this.“ She pulled a small cotton bag from one of the drawers. “It contains different herbs. Put it under your pillow and it’ll help you sleep.“

Malfoy hung his head, looking defeated and exhausted. „What about the … dreams?“

„I’m so sorry, honey, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

With another sigh, he finally gave in and took the cotton bag. “Good night,” he muttered and left the room, without even glancing in your direction.

Feeling as if you had just witnessed something that wasn’t meant for you to see, you stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, waiting for the healer to speak.

“Poor boy,” she mumbled and shook her head with a sad expression. Then she looked at you: “What are you here for, dear?”

You took a step forward, holding up the bottle.

“Oh dear, this is really in demand tonight,” she took it from you.

So Malfoy was using the same medicine as Ginny? Interesting.

“It’s for Ginny Weasley,” you explained. “She’s not doing well tonight so I came to get it.”

Madame Pomfrey nodded, quickly glancing into her patient book. Then she disappeared behind a few shelves and came back with a fully filled bottle. “It’s been a while for her. I’m glad to see she’s needing less,” she said. “Give her my best. Good night, honey!”

“Good night,” you replied, smiling at her.

Stepping outside the office, you were surprised to see Malfoy leaning against the hospital wing doors. He looked nervous, shifting uncomfortably, drawing circles on the ground with his foot.

“You forget something?”, you asked when you reached him.

He looked at you for the first time, his eyes taking your pajamas and bathrobe. “Nice outfit,” he sneered.

“Have you looked in the mirror?”, you replied sarcastically, pushing the doors open. You referred to the sweatpants and the oversized shirt he was wearing, surprised someone like Malfoy even owned such clothes.

He followed you outside. “I was just –”, he began after a moment. “I wanted to make sure –”

“I haven’t met anyone on my way to Madame Pomfrey. She was alone in her office,” you interrupted him, guessing where this was going.

“Right,” Malfoy mumbled.

“Anything else?” You stopped by a large staircase. “I have to go up here.”

He shook his head. “No.” After a brief moment of hesitation, he added: “Good night, Y/L/N.”

You could hear the unspoken ‘thank you’ within those three words and sent him a very tired smile, just wanting to get back to bed. “Night, Malfoy.”

***

You were the first to arrive at the Potions classroom and leaned against the cold stone wall with a yawn. It was the last class for today and you looked forward to going back to your room for a quick nap.

Ginny had fallen asleep quickly after you had brought her the medicine and so did you. Although, you had a restless night after that, waking up countless times from weird dreams. All of them featuring one specific person: Malfoy. The two of you walking through the Forbidden Forest, sitting in your childhood room, talking on the Astronomy Tower. Waking up confused and not feeling rested at all, you wondered what it meant. Why would you ever dream of him? Just because you talked a couple of times and you accidentally got involved in very personal situations? Just because you kissed once? Oh, the kiss – also a frequent visitor in your dreams. Not that it meant anything. He was an objectively good kisser, nothing more, nothing less.

“Y/N?”

You looked up when someone called your voice. Ron walked towards you, noticeably agitated.

“You have a couple minutes?”, he asked.

No, was your immediate thought. “Yes.”

“Good, good,” he looked behind himself, checking if anyone else was in the hallway, fiddling nervously with his hands. “It’s about Hermione.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“Well, I know you told Ginny about … us,” he started. “She screamed at me more than once for it.”

You suppressed a smile.

“Anyways, I was wondering … please don’t tell Hermione,” Ron finally managed to get out.

His request irritated you. “Don’t you think I would have told her by now if I wanted her to know?”

“I … No, I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You know how girls are.”

“Excuse me?” There it was again – the all too familiar rage starting to form inside of you. “How are we girls?”

He sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just noticed you’ve been avoiding me ever since school started and Hermione even started questioning me about this and I’m afraid it’s some sort of plan of yours to … y’know, get back at me.”

“What the fuck, Ron! How manipulative do you think I am?”, you spat at him. “I don’t care about your stupid relationship and I’m not getting involved. I know it’s hard for you to comprehend but some people actually still have values and don’t treat their supposed friends like shit!”

“Treat you like shit?”, now he started to raise his voice as well. “When have I ever –”

You interrupted him: “Don’t act dumber than you are!”

His face slowly began to turn red. “I never once said we were anything serious!”

“You joked about us moving in together after school!”

“Yes, Y/N,” he hissed. “I joked about it.”

You started at him in disbelief. “You’re such a jerk.”

“And you’re … you’re … ugh,” he stammered, his face still glowing red. “It’s not like I don’t have any feelings for you! I had a huge crush on you but Hermione …” He crossed his arms. “I can’t have both and she’s …”

“No, you can’t,” you glared at him. “Now, get the fuck away from me.”

Ron clenched his teeth, not making any efforts to follow your demand. “You have to promise me you won’t tell her!”

This guy was unbelievable. “I don’t have to do anything!”

“Y/N, you have to –”

“Has your mother taught you no manners, Weasley?”, a sudden voice said behind him. Malfoy arrived at the classroom door, nonchalantly letting his bag slip from his shoulders and leaning against the wall across from you. “She wants you to leave her alone.”

Irritatedly, Ron looked at him. “Shut your mouth, Malfoy. I’m talking to Y/N!”

“No, you’re harassing her,” his voice was cold as ice. “So leave or you’ll regret it.”

Ron scoffed. “Yeah, right. What are you gonna do, Death Eater?”

“Mr. Weasley!” Professor Slughorn stood in the now open to the classroom, looking at the three of you in shock. “How dare you insult your fellow classmate like that?”

Ron’s eyes widened. “I’m … He provoked me, Professor!” He pointed a finger at Malfoy who raised his hand in a ‘I-don’t-know-what-he’s-talking-about’-gesture.

Slughorn shook his head in disappointment. “Mr. Weasley, you will come with me. You two”, he looked at you and Malfoy. “Class will start in ten minutes. You can come in once your classmates arrive.”

You nodded and Ron trotted inside, head hanging low. Then the door closed behind him. Turning towards Malfoy, he was watching you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Beneath you,” he mouthed silently.

Letting out a huff of air, you rolled your eyes. “I don’t need you to come to my rescue. Ever.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t come to your rescue though. I just can’t stand the sound of Weasleys voice.”

“Right,” you stood up straight.

Anger and disbelief were the only two emotions you felt in this moment. To think that just three months ago, you were head over heels falling for this boy – and now, he acted like such an idiot. Running around, completely disregarding the feelings of others. Your feelings. Your eyes began to burn and you swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears from coming. He didn’t deserve any of that.

You could feel Malfoy still watching you. Thankfully, he stayed quiet.

Finally, the others arrived. Inside the classroom, you were met by an angry looking Ron. “Two weeks of detention,” he hissed when Harry sat down next to him. “For telling the truth about Malfoy! Can you believe it?!”

Serves you right, you thought.

“Open your book, page 124,” Slughorn announced when the students had settled down. “You’ll work on the assignment in pairs of two. Following pupils will work together: Miss Parkinson and Miss Granger …”

Before he could continue, both girls started to protest. He raised his hand. “No, you cannot switch. As we told you in the beginning of the school year, we will actively try to demolish the house rivalry. Making you work together is an important step towards this goal. So, let me continue, please. Mister Zabini and Mister Finnigan, Miss Weasley and Mister Nott, Mister Malfoy and Miss Y/L/N …”

Oh for gods sake. Did the universe desperately plotted to get the two of you to spend time together? Suppressing a groan, you grabbed your books, going over to Malfoys table at the back of the class.

Wordlessly, he grabbed his bag, removing it from the chair next to him.

“Seven years of not talking alone once and now I have to put up with you every second day.” You wanted the sentence to come out nicer than it did and mentally slapped yourself for sounding so mean.

Nevertheless, Malfoy nodded in agreement. “I’m just as thrilled about this as you are, Y/L/N.”

The two of you started working quietly and efficiently. Potions had always come easy to you, even when Snape used to be the teacher, and apparently, Malfoy seemed to be just as skilled.

“Did you tell anyone?”, you broke the silence suddenly while stirring the violet liquid inside the cauldron.

He quickly glanced at you. “If I did you would have noticed.”

Probably true.

“Did you?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

The two of you continued working for a while. You kept glancing at Malfoy, remembering the dreams from last night. A strange sense of curiosity formed inside of you. You watched him, the way he read the instructions carefully, mumbling to himself at times. Then suddenly your eyes began trailing off, wandering down to your lips. The moment in the storage room suddenly flashed before your eyes and without noticing, you licked over your own lips.

“Enjoying the view, Y/L/N?“

You realized in terror that Malfoy had stopped working and was now looking at you with an amused expression.

“No, what, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you uttered, your cheeks burning from embarrassment.

“Don’t worry, I know of the effect I can have on women.“

You snorted. „You’re awfully arrogant, Malfoy.“

„It’s the truth. Not even good Gryffindors such as yourself can resist the Malfoy charm,” he chuckled to himself.

“In your dreams, Malfoy.“

He didn’t reply to that but instead smirked at you, causing you to blush even more. “Don’t worry, my standards aren’t low enough for you.”

“Says the girl who slept with Weasley,” he had leaned in and whispered those words very close to your ear.

You knew no one could have possibly heard him but flinched nevertheless and lightly hit his arm. “Shh!”

Malfoy chuckled. “We’re done, Professor,” he then announced loudly and stepped back from the table.

Slughorn came over, taking a good look at your work. “Mhm, very well done,” he concluded after a moment. “You’ll receive an excellent mark for that. Well done! You can clean up and then start your homework assignment. Page 125.”

You smiled at the old man, happy about his praise and happy, that working together with Malfoy had been such an easy task,

“Anyways,” you began when the two of you had cleaned the table and stored everything away. “How’s that whole thing going?” You nodded towards the place where Astoria Greengrass was sitting.

Malfoy simply shrugged. “Every day I’m one step closer to go looking for a fake girlfriend.”

You snorted.

It was a strange feeling, having disliked Malfoy for so long and now being able to converse so easily. In your mind, you knew it would have been smarter to stay away, avoid him whenever possible. At least for your family that was the smarter approach. He had been a Death Eater and even though you’d never bring it up and strongly believed in second chances, his family still upheld these values. They still fought on the wrong side of the war. It disturbed you how effortlessly you had formed a connection with him.

You looked up from your book when you felt that strange sensation of someone staring at you. A little irritated, you searched the room with your eyes. It was Ron. The redhead was staring at you angrily from across the class and when you saw him like that, the weirdest thought popped into your head:

How mad would he be if I were to be Malfoys girlfriend?

It was a crazy thought, nothing you planned on taking seriously. But Ron admitted he had felt something for you. So how funny would it be to pretend you were dating his childhood enemy? Oh, he would be fuming.

You looked over to Malfoy who was scribbling on a piece of paper. No. No, this was too crazy. Right? Of course, it would be just for fun – just to get back at Ron. He even accused you of having some sort of plan to hurt him. You never considered yourself a person who was interested in revenge but this would be harmless. It wouldn’t even count as revenge. It would help Malfoy out and piss Ron off. Win-win. A few months of playing ‘happy couple’ in public and it would be done. A simple task. No way would you be able to develop any deeper feelings for that Slytherin. No way.

***

I hope you liked it! I’d love to hear your thoughts about this chapter! <3 A/N: I’m sorry that it takes me a while to get to the whole fake relationship thing. But it would feel so rushed so that’s why I’m trying to slow it down a little. I hope you can understand <3

CHAPTER 5

“Choose Me Instead” Masterlist HP Masterlist Tags: @writerdee1701, @youareinllve, @sjmahoney, @detroitobsessed, @takura-rin, @jadam268, @wynterwind, @mina672, @renaissance-confiance, @harpoon999, @doitforthevine67, @rinasrights, @flowerpowerpixie, @gold-flowing, @starkssnarks, @bookcornerkins, @harpersmariano, @markedsweetly, @iraniq, @pointlesscoconut, @hvrcruxes, @pillowjj, @idkatee, @jungjxxhyun, @magicwithaknife, @graystherapy, @sophia-gwendolyn, @nxstalgicnxbxdy, @sunsetsofanemoia, @s4dthrills, @tommy-holland, @lordfxxker, @streetfighterrichie, @awaken-the-sirens, @destiels-assbutt13 If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know! :)

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy #draco #malfoy #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagines #draco malfoy x gryffindor #slytherin #gryffindor #fanfiction

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gunterfan1992 · 5 years ago

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Interview with Half Shy (the songwriter of “Monster”)

For the last few months, I’ve been collecting information for a second edition of Exploring the Land of Ooo that will also cover the production of Distant Lands. This means that I’ve started to look into the new songs that we have been graced with this year, and this of course includes “Monster,” the beautiful track from the masterpiece that is “Obsidian”. And so I reached out to the song’s writer, Half Shy, who was kind enough to chat with me via email about the songwriting process!

(Photo courtesy of Half Shy)

In many ways, Half Shy is living the creative Adventure Time fan’s dream: She got asked by Adam Muto himself to write a song for “Obsidian” after he heard her music through Bandcamp! (I’ve dabbled in fan music before, and the fact that someone from the show might listen to it just blows my mind.) What an opportunity; I am so excited for her!

Since a second edition of my book won’t be coming out until after all the Distant Lands episodes air, I thought it would be best to share my Half Shy interview now. Read on for the fascinating behind the scenes story of how Half Shy and “Monster” came to be..

GunterFan: What is your origin story? How did you get involved in music, and how did the Half Shy project come to be?

Half Shy: I’ve been making music pretty quietly since I was in high school with a keyboard and guitar. I played one or two shows a year after college when I could find a friend or my brother to get up on stage with me, but I don’t really have that performer gene in me naturally. I get too much in my head and forget what the lyrics are to the song I wrote, or what the next chord is. Total brain freeze. So that whole experience is a bit of a mental drain. It’s something I think I’d like to dig into and figure out, but right now I’m really enjoying the time writing.

Even playing a song for my friends I still get pretty nervous. That’s where the name Half Shy comes from. I’ve always been interested in making things that by their nature draw a bit of a spotlight, but at the same time, I am just really quite nervous about the attention.

I recorded my first songs under my old name Hey V Kay in my bedroom and started putting them up online one at a time. When I got enough I thought about packaging it up into an album, but then got really distracted by learning how to fix up motorcycles and going to automotive tech school. When I eventually got back around to it I named the album Gut Wrenching.

After a few years I realized that I didn’t want the day-in-day-out life of a mechanic, I just wanted to know how to fix cars for myself and to have that knowledge in my back pocket. I got back into making music but grew frustrated at the process of writing and recording songs. I felt like I wasn’t able to capture the ideas I had in my head. Like trying to draw on your computer with a mouse. Doable, but it’s not going to come out like you’d hoped.

So these last couple of years I’ve focused more on learning the technical aspect of it, from the initial ideas and lyrics, to the recording and mixing. During that process I put out Bedroom Visionaries, and while writing I happened upon the name Half Shy in an old Thesaurus which felt instantly right. Learning all of that has been fun, I even went as far as to create my own book to solidify a daily writing routine (lyricworkbook.com). All that has been a bit of a tangent from actually making much music though. I should be getting my books in December from the press so I’m really looking forward to getting back into making more music instead of dealing with printing presses, setting up websites, and sourcing ribbon suppliers.

GF: What is the story behind "Monster"? How did the show get in contact with you?

HS: I keep a log of “Song Starters” with neat things I’ve heard in the world, and I would look through it every now and then and notice just how many came from Adventure Time. Eventually I thought well, I have to make a song about this show that just keeps breaking my heart. It was around the time I was nearly done with the first [Adventure Time-inspired] song “In My Element” that I got an email from Bandcamp saying “someone bought your album (Bedroom Visionaries).”

I get maybe one or two of these a month at most so I love to go in and say hi to the person and say thanks, be curious about who they are, [and] what they’re all about. Turns out it was Adam Muto, the executive producer of the show. (I asked and he has no idea how he happened upon my stuff. He guessed that I must have tagged something #adventuretime and he just happened to see it.) So I sent him an email saying, “Hey wow thanks for checking out my tunes. Also... holy crap you’ve made the best show I have ever seen in my life.” [I] played it real cool like. After finishing up writing my second [Adventure Time-inspired] song “Betty” I couldn’t help but fangirl real hard [and I sent him another message saying], “I’m sorry this is probably awkward, but I really love your show and I wrote these songs about it.” He was incredibly kind and shared them with his Twitter Universe, and a while after that I got a random email from him saying basically, “Hey, I’m working on this thing I can’t talk about, would you be interested?” I was like… well you know I’m pretty busy working at a sign shop so I’m gonna have to pass on this once in a lifetime opportunity (J/K. Obviously I fan-girl squealed and said yes immediately).

We chatted a bit about what the project was going to be and the direction. He mentioned there [would be] two Marceline songs in the special, [and he asked if I] would I be interested in giving the love song a try? Trying real hard to suppress my instant imposter syndrome I was like, “Yea, totally I’d be into giving that a shot!” So I read through the story and loved the idea of the dragon mirrored in Marceline, thinking through how they’ve both built up a protective shell, how she grew tough for a reason, but now she can open up and be vulnerable with PB.

From there I wrote the initial demo with the first two verses mostly intact and we went back and forth a few times editing it down into the final version. I recorded the final parts for the show in my little home studio in Seattle.

GS: When you were writing the song, what emotions, thoughts, or ideas were you channeling? Was there any sort of memory of event that you were trying to artistically "catch" or "recreate" with the lyrics or music?

HS: As far as channeling an emotion, generally I’d say just the experience of existing as a human. It can be so hard to open up and be vulnerable. I can remember that feeling even as a young kid—getting really excited about something and having someone completely trash it or look at you like, “Why are you so interested in that? It’s dumb.” [It causes us to grow] a little more weary to share ourselves because we know that hurt and embarrassment. The pain of being misunderstood is something I think a lot of us can relate to. Then having to decide whether to keep sharing those vulnerable parts of yourself or think, “They’re just not going to get it, I’m going to get hurt, so why bother?” and then stop putting yourself out there. You lose a lot with that thick armor though. You might feel protected, but you’re not feeling a whole lot of anything else other than the weight and chafing of it (I had a whole lot of armor-related metaphors that I didn't end up using.).

I struggle with this in songwriting too. I’m not the bolt-of-lightning type. There are pages and pages of cliches, total garbage, bad jokes, and cheesy lines that I have to get through in order to get to something that I am excited to put out there into the world: “Here I did this thing, I know it’s a little (this or that), but I made it... What do you think?” It’s hard to open yourself up to hearing the other end of that question.

I filled about 5 little pocket notebooks just thinking through the story, ideas, and trying to get this song right. I wanted it to feel familiar and honor the past songs of the show ([e.g.,] using the ukulele and referencing a few of the familiar chords from “I’m Just Your Problem”) but also be pretty open and vulnerable and different for [Marceline]. [I wanted to] show that she’s going through some tough emotions but also figuring herself out and growing.

GF: I feel like “Monster” is, at its core, an ode to the “Bubbline” ship. How do you feel about your song being intimately connected to one of the most famous LGBTQ+ relationships in animation? Do you have any general thoughts on Marcy and PB, Bubbline, etc.?

HS: Oh, I’m a total fan girl of Bubbline. The whole story of how Rebecca Sugar and Muto slowly morphed it into this deeper relationship is just great. As a part of the LGBTQ community myself it really means so much to see the representation of characters like yourself portrayed in an intelligent way. Growing up I was too young to fully understand what was going on but I saw Ellen getting cancelled, and [I] heard people around me saying they’d never watch her show again after she came out. That stuff sinks in as a kid and so to have these characters who are not only intelligent, but funny, complex, and unapologetically strong who also happen to be queer is really great. I love that the story here isn’t about their orientation, but that they’re people struggling with how to be open and vulnerable in a relationship.

It feels like something sci-fi and animated shows do so well—to show that ridiculousness of limiting who a person should and shouldn’t love. Marceline is a 1000+ year old half-demon/vampire and PB was born from the Mothergum of an apocalyptic radioactive world, but you’re going to get hung up on them loving each other? It sort of brings it into perspective in a really interesting way.

GF: Do you have any other thoughts about the experience that you'd like to share?

HS: Just how lucky, thankful, and honored I feel to be a part of my favorite show, writing a song for one of my favorite characters. It’s also incredibly cool how the people on the show are so willing to connect and collaborate with their fandom. Everyone [on the production crew] was very open and a real joy to work with.

I’d like to give a huge “Thank you!” to Half Shy for agreeing to participate in this interview; she really was quite amiable! If you’d like to hear more of her music, check out her website and her Bandcamp. You can also follow her on Instragram here and on Twitter here. And of course, here is Half Shy’s awesome video of “Monster”.

#adventure time #atimers #adventure time distant lands #atdl #half shy #monster #bubbline #marceline #marceline the vampire queen #bubblegum #princess bubblegum #pb #adam muto #interview

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readyourimgaines · 4 years ago

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The Little Things

Summary: Derek knew fully well that moving in with Spencer was going to bring around some changes. Dr. Spencer Reid was different and Derek loved him for it. There were little quirks that the doctor showed at work and some Derek was still learning. So there must be some at home.

And a special thanks, of course, to @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese for helping me compile this list!

1. Alphabetizing Movies by Title

“Pretty Boy?” Derek was crouched down in front of their TV looking for their movie while Spencer did the dishes. The latter hadn’t seen Happy Gilmore and Derek couldn’t let that stand.

“Yeah?” Spencer called from the kitchen.

“I can’t find it?”

“What?” Spencer stepped away from the sink and went to the living room. Water dripped from his fingertips. “The movies are alphabetical. It’s between Hamlet and Ice Age.” He went to Derek’s side and gestured to the movie. “I was going to order them by director, but Hotch said most people don’t know directors very well. Which is a shame because J.J. Abrams destroyed Star Trek but Guy Riche-”

Derek pressed a kiss to Spencer’s lips with a fond smile. Spencer blinked.

“Sorry,” the doctor blushed.

Derek just chuckled. “You know you’re adorable, right, Pretty Boy?”

“You may have mentioned it a time or two,” Spencer laughed.

“You can tell me all about directors later,” Derek promised. “I know a bit about the mainstream guys, but not a whole lot.”

“All you really need to know is that J.J. Abrams kills anything he touches and Peter Jackson doesn’t get as much attention as he should.”

*****

2. Morning Rituals

One thing that Derek very quickly learned about Spencer was that he

had a specifically timed morning ritual when not on a case. And that if it was broken or disturbed, the whole rest of the day would go down hill like a train on greased tracks.

He woke up at 6:17, was in the shower by 6:25, eating breakfast by 7:00, his bed made by 7:30, and shoes on his feet by 7:32. The last half hour before they left at 8:00 was free game.

The first morning in their new place was the roughest. Spencer went

about his usual morning, but Derek didn’t usually wake up until 7:45 because he took less time to get ready and ate in the car. So when Spencer finished breakfast and went back to their room to make the bed but Derek was still asleep… He paced for the next fifteen minutes and his head nearly went through the ceiling when Derek’s alarm went off.

Spencer almost had a panic attack as he fumbled his way through making their bed and cramming his feet into his shoes. Needless to say, the extra half hour was spent- in vain- trying to calm the doctor down. None of the rest of the day lined up properly and Spencer was on edge and fidgety. Hotch even had to gently remind him to focus a few more times than the usual redirection of infodumps.

That was the first and only time Derek didn’t follow Spencer’s morning routine. He found the same day that Spencer had a much simpler night ritual: Snack (sometimes) at 10:10, teeth brushed by 10:25, in bed by 10:35, reading until (supposed to be) 11:18, and then lights out. This routine was much more flexible and relaxed.

Derek found waking up and going to bed at the same time every day made the former much easier. He also found that Spencer reading to him most nights- no matter the book or topic- was very relaxing. And of course there were nights when Derek read to Spencer.

*****

3. Sugary Coffee

Derek took a sip of coffee from his travel cup and whistled. “Think I got yours, Pretty Boy. There’s enough sugar in this to hype up a six year old’s birthday party.”

Spencer braced himself and took a sip of the coffee in his own cup. He was pleasantly relieved when the bitterly sharp taste expected never came. “I-I put sugar in both of them. I wasn’t thinking,” he said sheepishly.

Derek shrugged. “You know what they say: I’ll try anything once.” He chuckled. “I’ll just brush my teeth for an extra three minutes.”

Spencer scoffed as he got into the passenger seat of Derek’s car. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll like it. You don’t get the caffeine drop when the eight hour half-life is over.”

“Is that why you put so much sugar in coffee?” Derek raised an eyebrow, thinking he already knew the answer.

“And coffee tastes like battery acid. I’d rather drink vinegar than black coffee.” Spencer shuddered.

Derek chuckled but didn’t say anything else as he pulled onto the street.

*****

4. Cuddly Sleeper

Even though Spencer wasn’t huge on PDA like Derek was, he sure was a cuddly guy. The second the door closed, he was a six foot koala. That included in bed- but usually not until after he was asleep.

Some nights, Spencer would fall asleep reading. So Derek would take his book, close it, gently remove Spencer’s glasses, and turn out the lamp. Nine times out of ten, Spencer was curled up against his side before Derek was asleep himself.

At first, Derek found himself wondering why Spencer wasn’t nestled against him before sleep took him. But after a while, it sunk in that the doctor unwound by reading.

The look on Spencer’s face when he curled into Derek’s side always sent the older man over the moon. The absolute peace on the doctor’s face. One night, Derek almost woke Spencer up laughing. Derek rolled over to out the lamp and Spencer had gripped Derek’s arm tighter and whined in his sleep. Derek then had to assure his boyfriend- in soft whispers as to not actually wake him up- that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Spencer never thought to question why his book and glasses were gone when he woke up.

*****

5. Leaves Books Everywhere

Anyone who had a 30 second conversation with Spencer- anyone who glanced at Spencer- could tell the man read more than he did anything else.

Derek picked up the doctor’s satchel once and was moderately surprised the slim man hadn’t dislocated his shoulder with how heavy the bag was. But Spencer didn’t only keep books in his bag. No. They were all over the place.

Their bedroom, the craft room where Derek made floor plans for his renovations, the kitchen, the dining room, the living room. Even both bathrooms and the basement.

When the two first moved in together, Derek debated building an extension onto the living room for a library. He still debated it from time to time (just in case). But as time wore on, Derek grew to appreciate the countless (if seemingly random) books around the house.

Spencer would read when Derek was working on floorplans, so Derek would read when Spencer worked on an academic paper or consult.

“What’re you reading?” Spencer asked one night, finally looking up from his notebook. He was writing an essay on how handwriting analysis could help catch a serial killer and/or rapist.

“I don’t even know,” Derek chortled. “Uh..” he looked at the cover, “it’s Introduction to Law by Joanne Banker and Yvonne Ekern.”

“Oh! Hotch loaned that to me yesterday,” Spencer noted. “I should get that back to him soon.”

Derek just shook his head. “You know, Pretty Boy, I didn’t read this much in college.”

Spencer smiled. “See? Maybe there’s a good side to not spending thousands of dollars on building a library,” he teased.

6. The Nightlight

In the bedroom, in the outlet closest to the door was a nightlight. But not just any night light. This nightlight made the move in the front pocket of Spencer’s satchel.

“So what’s the story behind this platypus, Pretty Boy?” Derek had to ask one night as Spencer turned it on. “Because you’ve had this since before we were dating.”

“My uh- my mom’s went on a sort of field trip with her hospital a couple years ago. It was on one of her good days. She saw this in the aquarium’s gift shop and bought it for me.”

“That’s pretty cute,” Derek encouraged. He knew Spencer didn’t open up about his mom often so Derek tried to learn everything he could about the woman during the rare occurrences.

“We named him,” Spencer laughed. “Alfred Nicholas Brian Reid.” He giggled. “I just… He helps.”

*****

+1. Bleeding/Infected Hangnails

Spencer usually had something to stim or fidget with. A strip of paper, a pen or pencil to twirl, a shirt with a loose thread, something. On the off chance that he didn’t, the doctor somehow decided that his fingers were good enough. If Spencer didn’t have a hangnail, he’d start one.

This was the one and only thing about Doctor Spencer Reid that Derek Morgan hated. He could see the minute flinch when Spencer held a utensil wrong and it pressed on the swollen skin. He heard the soft hiss when Spencer got tomato or orange juice in the broken skin.

What Derek hated even more than that was when the hangnail would get infected. The skin around the nail or turn a greenish-yellow and harden. Which, in turn, gave Spencer another thing to pick at.

“Pretty Boy, you gotta stop,” Derek sighed. He’d gone into a convenience store to get them something other than coffee- but tastier than water- to drink. While inside, he bought a box of Band-Aids and a tube of anti-bacterial cream.

Spencer snapped out of his daze. “What?”

“Picking at your nails.” To prove his point, Derek took Spencer’s hand in his to show him, as well as to stop his current picking. “I know you’re worried about the case, Baby, but we’ll catch the son of a bitch and put his ass behind bars like we always do. You gotta stop destroying your hands.”

“I didn’t realize I was,” he admitted.

“I know,” Derek said softly. He applied the cream and a Band-Aid to each finger that needed it (five in total between both hands). “We just gotta get you a couple of those fidget cubes Garcia has.”

Tag List: @mayonnaiseismycomfortfood

#read your imagines #combefere's journal #criminal minds imagine #moreid imagine #spencer reid imagine #derek morgan imagine #5+1 things #6+1 things #moreid #moreid fluff

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years ago

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mouth full of white lies {Machine Gun Kelly} 4

4. i wanna know what’s your quietest feeling

Summary: So you’ve met his friends, and now his daughter, who’s the only other person who knows that this whole thing is a setup. But all she wants is to make sure that you’re not gonna break her dad’s heart; it shouldn’t be too hard to convince her that your intentions are good.

the brainstrust: @sataninsatin @silvertonguedserpent @juliarose21 @kellysimagines @estxxbritt @machine-gun-casie @harringtonstudios @misscharlottelee @narcvissa @hiworlditishumbleme @angelwarner28 @nevilles-insinuations @rumoured-whispers @mgkobsessed @edwardtriggerhandzz @suckerforbarnes @wastelcve @bakerkells @local-troubled-writer @freddiessmallnipples @oopsiedoopsie23 @mayaslifeinabox @mrs-machinegun-norris @hxbbit

----

Colson writes. A lot. You’d noticed it here and there being close to home, being close his studio, he’s buzzing with new ideas. There’s a ratty notebook that he keeps in the front pocket of his suitcase, held together by fibers and hope, that seems to be worth it’s weight in gold to him, full of lyrics and ideas that he’s been hoarding for as long as he’s been writing. About ten percent of the book has actually come to fruition, but that’s not what’s important about it, it’s that it’s positively brimming with potential as much as it is memories.

It’s been less than a year since his last album, and he’s made a few songs here and there, but now he writes, when inspiration strikes him, after work, or between takes. He’s in talks with Motley themselves, apparently, working on a part for one of their songs, rereleasing with the release of the film. For now, he writes, and he hums, and tests out lyrics under his breath.

“That sounds good,” it’s Sunday morning; he’s up earlier than you, which isn’t necessarily an unusual occurrence. He’s wearing sweatpants, hair curling a little at the ends where he’s letting it air dry, sitting up beside you on the bed. He’s got his notebook balanced on the one knee he’s got drawn up to him, while the other leg is kicked out in front of him, and he’s humming something while scrolling through his phone. He’s muttering something, lyrics you’re pretty sure, while something plays from his phone.

He seems a little surprised, like he’s coming out of a trance that the music had put him in, and smiles with an honest sincerity.

You yawn, and wiggle a little beneath the covers to properly face him, face half-smushed into the pillow. For a beat he looks at you like he wants to do something, like he wants to reach out and touch your cheek, trace his thumb across your lip -

Wishful thinking. Probably.

“Rook’s been working on some stuff; he sent this through last night,” and he tapped away at his phone for a moment, replaying the track on his phone. It’s an instrumental, beat-heavy and the bones for a solid bop. You nod along to it, and he starts rapping under his breath again.

“I think it could be something good,” he sounds quietly hopeful; he doesn’t sound like that often.

“Of course it’ll be good,” you say around a yawn, and this time he does reach out.

“Go back to sleep,” he pinches gently at your cheek, and a warm rush of affection floods through you. Without thinking, you turn to press a quick kiss to his palm, a moment of gentle familiarity, and turn away, to go back to sleep, without thinking to watch for his reaction. You hear a faint, almost disbelieving huff of laughter, before the music starts back up again.

It’s not long before you’re ingratiated with his friends, who’ve all taken you and Colson in stride. Mostly it’s drinking and smoking and making music and playing video games, so even your initial anxiety is quick to fade.

That first morning, Wednesday, cool but sunny, it’s easy; Rook’s the only one awake when you and Colson arrive. He’s sitting at the kitchen island, perched on a stool with a pen stuck in his mouth, and a laptop and drum pad machine sitting on the counter, and when you walk in, he gives you a long, evaluative stare, a joint in between his fingers, idle.

“Hey man, this is Ducky,” Colson doesn’t seem to notice how you’ve frozen awkwardly in the doorway, moving past you to start searching the cupboards for food; Rook nods to him, before looking back at him, “Ducky, this is my man Rook,” and at that, he holds out his hand for the joint, and Rook passes it over, before looking back at you. You give a little, uncomfortable wave.

“Ducky?” He asks, curious rather than hostile, and you let yourself breathe, stepping into the room.

“Or Duck,” you explain, heading to the counter where Colson’s now wrestling with a packet of Doritos, “or [Y/N].” And you put your bag down, taking the seat beside Rook as Colson passes the joint back to him to get a better handle on the bag.

“Tight,” Rook says after a moment, apparently finding something in you that he approves of, because he follows it up by turning the laptop towards you, asking if you were into music. Of course you tell him you are - who isn’t? - but you don’t have a lot of experience in the production side of things.

“I mean,” you concede briefly, “about two years ago there was a trend going around on YouTube where you make a diss track about yourself -” Colson’s entire face lit up.

“You wrote a diss track about yourself? Don’t you do like cutesy vlogs and shit?” He asks, and it’s not meant to sound as unkind as it’s worded, though you still roll your eyes.

“It pays to be on trend,” you shrug, still a little embarrassed at the memory, “but it was fun.”

Colson is looks actually impressed, while Rook is still chewing on the end of his pen, typing away frantically. After a beat, Colson turns to him -

“Her channel name is DuckDuckBooth -”

“I’ve already found the video,” Rook says with a smile, and you have to hide your face in your hands as they watch with equal parts fondness, and a little bit of second hand embarrassment.

Colson posts to his Instagram story a video of Rook jamming out to your self-diss track, before the camera swings around to see you flipping them both off with a fond smile. Your video is the only sound that can be heard for the full duration of the ten second video -

“Too scared of you’re face on the big, big screen, you think YouTube’s gonna be more stable / even though you use your bro for views every chance that you’re able. / With all of the time that you spend around sets, they all think you’re a professional stalker / and you spill you’re guts when you’re NDA free; you’ve made a career as Hollywood’s biggest talker. / [As if! Who asked for the Perez Hilton of the production crew?!]”

He tags both you and Rook, and captioned the video with a question: Should we remix Ducky’s self-diss track from 2016? With two options for fans to choose: Yes. or Definitely.

But Rook’s not who your worried about. None of Colson’s friends really worry you.

Casie arrives a week and a half after you’ve all moved locations, to see her dad, to meet you, and to sit in on production for about a week.

When you finally meet her, her cocked hip and crossed arms reminds you of Colson; she’s four and a bit feet of skepticism and an unmatched, effortlessly cool energy, and you realise too late that you’re kind of intimidated by an elementary schooler.

“I’ve seen your videos,” is the first thing she says to you, and you find yourself smiling, bewildered.

“Cas -” Colson’s voice holds a note of warning where he’s currently getting his tattoos covered. He’s standing with his arms out, looking straight ahead while Corey, the key makeup artist, and his team, airbrush and colour correct like their lives depend on it.

“I’m making sure she’s taking care of you,” Casie, unwavering in both her conviction and her loyalty, shifts her weight to her other foot. “The drum video was cute.” And you’re not quite sure if it’s a compliment, judging by the cool tone of her voice, but she’s wearing a slight smile that you’ve seen on Colson far too many times to not recognize it. This feels like the first of many tests.

She’s adamant that she’s not someone to be bought, though the thought had barely crossed your mind. When she nods approvingly at your dismissal of the suggestion, you can’t help but frown.

“How many girls have tried to get on her good side by buying her stuff?” You ask Colson quietly, out of Casie’s earshot later that night. For a moment, he looks as close to guilty as you’ve ever seen him.

“Not a lot, like one or two maybe; not a lot of girls meet her,” he admitted, “but the ones that try and buy her gifts and shit, they always turned out to be the worst ones,” and perhaps the guilt intensifies a little more, “she’s a good kid; always saw that before I could.”

“She’s a good kid,” you repeated, softer this time, with a faint smile, and when Colson comes back to reality, he gives your shoulder a squeeze.

She’s on set a lot for the days that she’s staying with you all, and when she sees you at work, she appears to warm to you; you’re not sure when you forgot that she was just a child trying to protect her father, but you’re reminded when you see the starry-eyed look she’s giving the makeup artists.

“Hey Corey,” you ask, smiling a little, and the makeup artist who had been in the middle of his lunch looks up from his phone with wide, alert eyes, “could one of your people give Casie here a little bit of 80s glam?” You ask sweetly, and his expression tuns fond as he nods. Casie turns wide-eyed and a little abashed at request, and murmurs that she doesn’t want to be any trouble. Both Corey and yourself wave away her concerns, and Amy, one of the makeup assistants, is more than happy to give the young girl a bit of glitter and gloss to the excited young girl.

She’s got glitter on her eyelids, and blush and highlighter adorning her cheeks, and a shiny, clear lip gloss making her smile that little bit brighter by the time the makeup woman is done with her, and Casie is practically glowing.

“How in the hell,” Colson starts with a grin when she goes to him to show off, “did I end up with the most stylish kid in the world? Cas, you look like a model.” Pride is radiating off of him in waves, and he pulls out his phone, “babe, get a picture, she looks so fuckin’ cool,” he enthuses, and if your heart skips a beat as his casual use of a pet-name, you’re enough of a professional not to let it show. Casie is calling him embarrassing, but is still beaming, and with him in full costume and her all made up, the picture you take - he’s standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders, and she’s got her arms crossed, both of them looking serious and menacing at the camera - you think they might be the coolest people you’ve ever met. Certainly one of the most photogenic father/daughter duos you’ve ever come across.

“Do not make it your phone background,” Casie presses her embarrassed smile into his shoulder where they’re reviewing the photo back in his trailer.

“But I’m not allowed to post it, and I wanna admire it every day - look at you!” He’s pointedly zooming in on her stony expression in the photo.

“[Y/N], tell him he’s being ridiculous,” Casie implored you, and you threw your hands up in surrender.

“I’m not allowed to say what is and isn’t a ridiculous phone background,” you say automatically, which piques both of their interests, and you immediately regret saying anything.

“Babe,” Colson says, prompting you, and you feel yourself growing flustered, both because you’re going to have to admit that your background is a photo of you two, and that he’s called you that twice in about half an hour. Casie’s amused now, smiling, her arms crossed as she raises her eyebrows at you expectantly. Taking a deep breath, you unlock your phone.

“I’m just trying to be a good girlfriend,” you say, avoiding their gazes as you show them your home screen, and your background; the paparazzi photo of you and Colson beneath the boardwalk.

“Is that how you organise your apps?” Is what Casie has to say, which has Colson snorting with laughter, though when you finally look at him, you see him wearing a weirdly pleased little smile.

“Ducky, that’s weird and adorable -”

“It’s not weird!” You protest, snatching back your phone, flustered, but Casie just rolls her eyes, pulling out her own phone.

“Come here, both of you,” she instructs, sounding terribly put upon by the both of you. You both crowd around her, with only slight confusion. “Look convincing.” She holds up her phone, and you both frown a little.

“What?”

“Look convincing,” she insists again, gesturing between the two of you, and finally coming to understand her meaning, Colson gives her an endeared, almost proud look, and you in turn are looking fondly at him. Neither of you have noticed that she’s already taken the selfie. After a beat, she lowers the phone and starts looking at the few photos she’d taken, and both you and Colson seem a little surprised at her speed. “Dad, I’ll send it to you, you send it to her; you can have a photo of both of us looking cool, and a photo of your ‘girlfriend’,” she explains with implicit air quotes, “and [Y/N], you don’t have to have a creepy pap’s picture as your background.” She taps away for a moment before swiftly sending the best photo to Colson, “plus you’ll match.”

“You’re a little genius,” you tell her once Colson’s sent you the photo. Casie beams at you.

“I know.”

And the way you’re smiling in the photo is more than convincing.

[ID: A series of three tweets from @machinegunkelly:

1: Retweeted with the caption ‘🥰🥰’, originally posted by @duckduckbooth with no caption: Two pictures of Rosa Diaz from Brooklyn 99 holding a golden retriever puppy with an edited caption reading ‘I’ve only known CASIE BAKER for a day and a half but if anything happened to HER I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.’

2: Tweeted: when me n my girls (my daughter and @duckduckbooth) hang out i realize i’m somehow the least fashionable in the group. when did that happen wtf 😳😳

3. Tweeted: maybe you'll skip to the end and pass all the irrational decisions, patch up all the passion that was missin'. i think that's enough. i'm feelin' lovesick.

End ID.]

Maybe it’s that she likes you, maybe she’s just trying to keep an eye on you to make sure you’ve got her dad’s best intentions at heart, but Casie takes it upon herself to almost shadow you while on set, at least when she’s not with her dad.

“What’s your next video going to be?” She asks one afternoon when you’re both waiting for Colson in his trailer as he gets his makeup removed for the day. She’s watching a video on her phone and you’re reading emails on yours, and you look up, interested. After a moment, she pauses her video, looking up, looking back at you, “I like your ‘day in the life’ ones.”

“I didn’t realise you liked my videos,” you said with faint amusement, and she gives a small smile.

“I’ve been binging them,” she admits, and shuffles a little, sitting up further where she’s reclining on the uncomfortable little sofa, “your editing is really nice; I liked your Euro-Disney video, it was really pretty.”

“Thanks,” you find yourself a little humbled at her compliment, and find yourself musing that you’d like to get back to that style of video, “hey,” you find yourself coming up with an idea, something Colson had said during your first actual date, and with Casie herself now here, it was the perfect opportunity, “do you wanna be in a video?”

“Hello! Hello and welcome back, ducklings! I’ve been feeling rather nostalgic for some of my older content, and was inspired by none other than Miss Casie Baker, so what better day than this beautiful Friday afternoon, to take you all along with Casie, Kells, and I as we head to a boardwalk fair.”

It’s a short drive to the boardwalk, and once you’re there, it’s almost unbearably cheesy. Rides, candy, you and Colson in competition trying to win a prize for Casie at one of the cheap game booths.

You’re filming on and off the whole time, getting aesthetic shots, your heart growing warmer with each genuine smile you manage to catch on camera. You take endless candid photos of Colson and Casie, and even though you know you can’t be out too late because you and Colson are due on set at eight, you make the most of the time you have.

After an hour and a half, you stop at the food vendor, craving hot chips, and Colson orders, while Casie takes your hand, the two of you hanging back.

"Can we go on the Ferris Wheel?"

"Just a minute kiddo, food's almost ready," Colson tells her over his shoulder, but she tugs at your hand, making her meaning more clear.

"You can catch up, we can go around twice; I wanna talk to [Y/N]," she tells him plainly, and you give her a smile, already acquiescing to her suggestion. Colson makes a noise of gentle protest, but he sees her hand in yours, and the reassuring look you've leveled at him.

"Take care of my girl," he tells you with a faux seriousness, and Casie gives a small grin at that.

"I'll protect her with my life," you promise, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

"You better," he grinned, tone fond and a little teasing, before assuring that he'd meet you both up there, and you're left wondering what about you screamed 'let's have a serious conversation on a Ferris Wheel' because if it happens again, it goes from a coincidence to a pattern. Casie drops your hand and trots easily through the crowd to the Wheel that had cast the rest of the fair in shadow as the sun set behind it. The ride operator gives you a toothy smile as she secures the door behind the two of you, and Casie links her fingers, resting her elbows on her knees, and her chin on her hands, evaluating you with an inscrutable look. She waits until the basket is about a quarter of the way around before saying anything; for your part, you’re silent, she’s the one who wanted to speak after all.

“Dad doesn’t do fake,” she says finally, sitting back, and lets you wonder in silence for a few moments, what that even means, “I know he did, I’m not blind or deaf, people… people talk to me. A lot. About things my dad’s done.” This piece of information has your expression souring - she’s just a kid - but she doesn’t seem bothered by it, she just seems… almost confused.

“I’m not going to -”

“I know.” She cuts you off before you can even voice what reassurance you could manage, “I’ve gathered that; you’re good. Better than probably any other girl who’s gotten with him for clout.”

“I’m not -” You try to protest and she does look a little apologetic, but after a moment, you stop yourself, and let her continue, trying to understand where she was coming from.

“I know why he likes you, I get it, you -” she averts her gaze for a moment, suddenly a little embarrassed, “you’re actually really cool,” she admits, and your heart softens, but you keep quiet, and let her build back up to her bravado, “but back when his manager had him with like, models and actresses and things, they were all - I mean sometimes they were nice, but they always thought they were better than him, or they just treated him like dirt when people weren’t around, so now, dad doesn’t do fake.” It’s said definitively. You’re at the top of the Ferris Wheel now, stopped for a few moments, and she looks out at the rest of the fair, and then down to the base of the ride, letting herself smile when she spots Colson at the bottom, giving him a wave.

Somehow, sitting in this basket in the sky, it feels like a mafia movie, like this little girl is implying she’ll break your kneecaps if you hurt her father. Or she’s implying something that your heart dare not read into, lest you get your hopes up.

“Dad doesn’t break his rules for just anyone,” Casie finally sits back up, and there’s a new, kinder quality about her voice, before it turns young, turns plaintive, and you’re reminded that she’s just a child looking out for her dad, her hero, “please don’t make him regret it. He’s a good person, I know what people say but he’s -”

“Casie, I care about him. A lot.” You tell her honestly, gently, and she blinks wide and surprised for a few moments, before her expression turns to almost weirdly pleased, maybe even a little smug.

“Good.” She says with conviction, before looking out at the horizon, “this would be a nice shot.”

“It’d be nicer with your dad,” you hear yourself saying, and Casie huffs out a laugh that sounds so much like her father, agreeing quietly. When your basket stops at the bottom of the wheel, Colson flashes his ride wristband to the kid operating it, and he slides into the seat beside you. Casie’s still smiling as she takes a chip from where he offered them.

“Nice chat?” He asks, and offers you the chips too.

“I like her,” Casie announces, and you grin to yourself, “dad, I love you, but you’d better treat Duck right; we’re friends now.” Which sets Colson off laughing, and you turn on your camera.

“You were meant to be on my side,” he laughs, and Casie shrugs.

“I am, I’m on both your sides.”

#mgk #mgk x reader #mgk imagine #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #the dirt #the dirt cast #the dirt cast imagine #the angry lizard writes

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troop-scoop · 5 years ago

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Mistakes & Regrets V

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (like, a really slow burn)

A/n: Italics are memories!

•••

You were scared, and alone.

The star and moonless sky sent chills up your spine, and the cold made you feel like it was winter. But this place didn’t have any seasons. It was just cold, and empty. And slimy.

It always felt like your feet were slipping whenever you tried to sneak around whatever those things were around you. They were terrifying, growling, and faceless.

And you made a big mistake, you’d ran away, you broke the rule of never going into the woods alone. This was on you. And you wanted nothing more for your phone to work. To be able to call your dad, either one of them. You wanted to apologize for being an idiot, for not being responsible.

You were hiding, holding your keys. They were too loud. All the keychains you had on it were jingling drawing attention. You were trying to take them off of the ring as quietly as you could, the first one to go was your Millennium Falcon keychain, quietly slipping it into your backpocket. The second was the Avatar keychain, that one being slipped into your hoodie pocket. You needed to seperate them, keep it so the jingle was no longer there. So you could get by them easier.

The last one you hesitated on. The rose quartz crystal keychain your brother had bought you from the dollar section in Target for your birthday. You didn’t really have an opinion of crystals, you thought they were pretty, so you kept it on your keyring.

You hesitated, before deciding against it, holding your pepper spray as if it would do anything, the pale pink can being gripped in your hand, fingers wrapped tightly around it, your nail polish a dark shade of purple, contrasting the pink, even in the dark.

“Could you find a way to let me down slowly.” You sang as quietly as possible, holding the keychain in your hand, trying to calm your down as much as possible. They’d seen you once. You didn’t want to risk it again. You’d lost your skateboard along the way, having dropped it the moment you saw one of those. . . things.

“A little sympathy I hope you can show me.” Tears were close to going down your cheeks as you grabbed your bag, holding it to your chest as tightly as you could. Your phone died a day before. And you’d been here a total of two. Evading the creature’s, never really getting a good look at them. Just knowing that they towered over you and looked emaciated, and their hands were huge, if you could even call them hands. They looked more like claws. And reminded you of the Windigo from that one video game whose name kept slipping your mind. And that’s what you called them, because that’s what they looked like, even if they weren’t because you knew these things had to be a different species, not a cannibal turned monster from Native American lore.

“If you wanna go then I’ll be so lonely.” Your low voice cracked a bit as your grip on the

sketchbook inside of your bag tightened. Your knees meeting your chest as you held the red material of the Jansport bag.

“If you’re leaving, baby, let me down slowly.” A loud noise came from down the street. Away from where you were hiding. Looking from the tree branches to the dark uninhabited houses you saw one of them moving. But you moved quicker. Hopping down from the tree and carrying your bag while you ran

•••

You didn’t know where you were going, you were pretty sure you were just running. Maybe there was something behind it. Some reason you were going towards the center of town, like a gut instinct telling you that you needed to go, run away from the motel you’d been living in for the past months.

The second the bowl had shattered and Linda snapped you out of it, you’d ran, going for your room again, and packing a few things you thought were necessary, and you went running down the street, it’d been 15 minutes now.

And at the end of those 15 minutes, you turned a corner, and almost ran straight into an older woman, who looked upset, and frazzled. An unreadable look on her face. But you knew it wasn’t a happy one. Maybe one of being deep in thought? Contemplation maybe.

It took everything in you not to call her what you knew her as, but you also knew that would get a strange look before she left. But as she steadied your by grabbing onto your shoulders, you grabbed her arms.

“Mrs. Byers! I was just looking for you.” Realization struck, your instincts telling you to run into town, where Joyce would be at the coroner's office, to tell her that Will couldn’t possibly be dead, because you were still there, you hadn’t disappeared like in all of those movies where something bad happens and someone was never born.

Or this could be like in Avengers, where something caused another timeline to happen. But then what would that mean for you? For the rest of your family here? For Will? Would he really be dead?

You refused to believe that. It didn’t feel right.

“I’m sorry? Do I know you?” Joyce looked more confused than she could have ever been in the entirety of her life.

“No, you don’t.” You spoke sadly, looking down to the ground, blinking away quick tears before looking back up to Joyce. “I’m new to Hawkins, just please listen, this is about your son-”

“If Jonathan told you anything-”

“There’s no way he’s dead!” You interrupted, grip on her sleeves growing tighter before she slowly pulled her hands away from your shoulders, eyeing you cautiously, almost as if you’d found out a secret.

“Wh-what?”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy, like, psych ward level crazy, like needing to be so heavily medicated that I wouldn’t be able to function normally-”

“Sweetheart, I’ve been the crazy one in town the past few days. I’ve seen it. . . What’s going on?”

You felt your heart swell a bit when she called you ‘sweetheart’ because that was what she’d always called you. Dad called you ‘baby’ and she always called you ‘sweetheart’. You blinked away more tears as you tried to muster up the courage to speak, but you couldn’t.

Carefully, and almost hesitantly, you pulled off your bag, and opened it. Taking out the large notebook and closing the backpack again, flipping to the page you were looking for, the image you and your dad had drawn together. You handed over the sketchbook, and you saw her eyes widen a little as she looked down at the carefully drawn image.

“This is- this is Will’s Dungeons and Dragons character-”

“Will the Wise, Right? A Cleric, a healer, he’s clever and smart, and he helps people! And that’s my character that he helped me make when I was nine, she’s a half-elf rogue, I named her after Elizabeth the first!” You explained.

Growing up, you played D&D with your Dad and uncles whenever they came to visit or you went to visit them. They weren’t actually related to you, but rather the kind of uncles that everyone else had, the uncles that were your parent’s best friends. They all helped you make your favorite character.

“When you were nine? Will’s only been playing with his friends for a year and a half? Right after he turned 11, he asked for the set for his birthday, there’s no way, and he doesn’t know you. He has three friends.”

“Check the date. Upper right hand corner.” You told her, watching as he eyes darted to the date on the paper, and you watched as her face fell before she looked back up at you.

“January 21st 2019? That’s. . . like 40 years from now-”

“36, actually.” You corrected quietly, a small shrug given when her face now turned into a scowl at how you corrected her.

“What are you saying?” She asked cautiously, flipping through the sketchbook. “I know I have no right to say someone else is crazy, I mean- I’m talking to Will through my christmas lights, you being from ‘2019’ sounds more believable.”

“There’s no way that Will’s dead, because I’m his daughter.” You admitted to her.

“Tell me something about him then. Only someone who knew him would know.” She demanded, closing the sketchbook and handing it back to you.

“He has a birthmark on his right arm, I had the exact same one, but then I burned myself on a pan, and it went away. . . Um- His favorite song, it’s ‘Should I Stay Or Should I Go’ from The Clash. Uncle Jonathan introduced him to it. Dad introduced it to me.”

Joyce’s face was once again, unreadable as she stared at you, eyes tracking over your face carefully, catching every detail, and everything that was asymmetrical. Everything that made you look like a Byers.

“Oh my God. You’re not lying.”

•••

“So, I’m your grandmother.”

You nodded as you grabbed the boombox, setting it down on the table, examining the christmas lights she’d put up around the house. It looked like something a crazy person would do. Put up this amount of christmas lights. And paint the alphabet on the wall.

“And you have two dads?”

You turned your head to her, giving her a look. You’d explained everything to her, how your dads had met, how you’d been conceived and born, how you’d grown up, and who your brother was. How close you were to your Uncle Jonthan, and that your favorite non-related uncle was Uncle Lucas, which sold her even more into the fact that you were really from the future, and were really her son’s daughter.

“Yes, I have two dads. But I’m biologically Will’s.” You explained once again.

“Okay.” She said quietly, taking the tape out of the boombox, rewinding it with a pencil. “Alright, one more question.” Joyce started again, making you sigh. “How’d you get here?”

You paused, looking down at your dirtied and almost ripped converse. You didn’t quite remember. All you could remember was running into the woods after getting away from Enzo’s, trying to take a short cut to the motel, and then you fell through the ground, into something cold, and gooey. What you imagined it would feel like to stick your hand into a dead body for an autopsy. But you didn’t remember anything after that. Just waking up, in dirty clothes laying on the ground in the woods, backpack on, skateboard gone. And you had gotten up, legs feeling weak, and wobbly, before you’d found yourself back in town, but it had all been different. You hadn’t realized that it had been a different century until you’d gone into Melvad’s and saw something with the expiration date of ‘November 28th 1983.’

“I don’t remember. But I remember I made a mistake, and I ran off. And I regret it. If I could take it back I would.” Looking back up you noticed she was looking up at you, sympathy written on her face, and you knew what she was thinking. And you knew that one day her sympathy or your situation would turn to empathy for your Dad. Who would be going through what she was now.

You reached down and pressed ‘play’ before standing up straight again, giving her a soft smile as you looked up at the lights. This was not the house you’d assume belonged to a perfectly sane woman. And yet, it did.

“Come on Will!” You yelled “Do your weird magic bullshit!” Joyce started a bit before standing up.

Banging came from the wall, and you turned your head to look over. Joyce stopped the music and went to the spot on the wall where the banging continued, with you following shortly after.

“Mom?”

Joyce gasped. “Will?”

“Holy shit.” You murmured

“Mom?” The boy asked again, banging on the walls continuously as if trying to get through. Something told you that it wasn’t as easy as Joyce thought it was by running outside while you placed a firm hand on the wall, nails digging into the wallpaper and peeling it away.

“Will?” You questioned.

“Where’s my Mom?”

“Will!” Joyce yelled, running back inside seeing that the wallpaper in her living room was ripped off and you were staring at what looked like a thin layer of skin. Maybe a membrane. You didn’t like it, and that feeling came back, of being on a roller coaster drop, but the drop never ending. It was a bit sheer, and you could see the outline of the small boy banging against the membrane.

“Mom!”

“Will! I’m here! I’m here!” Joyce yelled back.

“Hello? Mom?”

But when she put her hand over the membrane you froze up, standing and watching in terror, because all of a sudden, you knew how you got here, and the growling of something getting closer to Will made a shiver run through your entire body, goosebumps showing up on your skin.

“Mom, it’s coming!”

The image of what ‘it’ was was fuzzy, but you saw it, like a memory. Almost ten feet tall, and so skinny their bones protrude, and almost sickly pale, white skin stretched out over the body. And the claws. You could almost feel the scratch of one of them against the back of your neck.

Reaching a hand up to your neck you could feel a skinny and elongated bump in your skin

that had never been there. But it felt like a scab. Like a scab over a healing scar.

“Tell me where you are! How do I get to you?” Joyce cried, her hand over Will’s.

“It’s like home, but it’s so dark. . .It’s so dark and empty. And it’s cold! Mom? Mom!”

You couldn’t even attempt to hold back the tears that were burning at your eyes and making

your vision blurry as you could hear the echoes of your own voice, calling out for an older version of him, the version that knew you the entire time you’d been alone. You’d been scared, and freezing in just a t-shirt and pair of ripped jeans. Holding a broken skateboard that you’d landed on in your fall.

It came to you briefly, running into the woods after Pa had yelled at you at Enzo’s. But then the rain had gotten worse, turning into the thunder, and loud noises never really scared you, it was the lighting that was a little too close to you that had you running, searching for any way out, yelling and screaming for both of your fathers, for anyone.

And then you took one wrong step, in the wrong direction. And you fell into the ground, instantly feeling cold, and as if the temperature was going to kill you. It felt like falling through cold slime before you’d landed on your skateboard, breaking it in half.

Everything there had echoed, and it felt like the entirety of the town had been placed inside of an infinitely large and inescapable cave. You’d cried out even louder for your Dad, getting no response. You’d begged and pleaded for the nightmare to go away, but it never did. You remembered screaming out “Dad! Dad please, I’m sorry!” And then you remembered waking up in the woods, sun shining down on you, a real sky in view.

•••

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mysleeplesswriter · 4 years ago

Text

Escape...

The dark forest continued on for more than a ‘a few kilometers`, and Gemma increasingly became more and more drained. She became irritated at her English teacher, she had said this wasn’t even going to take that long, she had been relentlessly walking for the past two and a half hours. The Dark Oak trees that surrounded them were of great size and looked elegant as the danced with the light winds.

“Were nowhere near the cabins, are we? You said this aint gonna take long, miss.”, Gemma grunted as she unraveled herself from a vine of branches. Gemma wasn’t those people who liked to go outside. She always rather to sit and stay at home snuggled up in her blanket and sipping on her overly sweet hot chocolate. Besides, she was an introvert and stayed to herself.

“Now Gemma, when I said this wasn’t going to take long, I meant it,” her teacher smiled, “The cabins are a half an hour walk away.”

The whole class complained when they heard it.

It was now practically lunchtime and Gemma wouldn’t let that pass, even if she was in a deep, creepy forest. Her classmates took refuge under the trees.

“Miss d’know that its lunchtime, an’ I aint gonna let that pass. I don’t care if we half an hour away. I'm gonna eat, if you wanna continue walkin’ then fine by me. Aint me who gonna lose their job.”, she said as she grabbed her sandwich from her bag and sat down on a tree branch.

Gemma's teacher sighed and shook her head and let the children eat their lunch.

“Hey Gemma?”, yelled one of her classmates, “Did you get forced to come out ‘ere ‘cos I know you hate the outdoors ‘cos your lazy.”

The rest of the class snickered.

Geez they never appreciate anything, she thought, why do I even bother to help ‘em.

After they finished their lunch, they continued their trek through the forest. Birds chirped their afternoon song and flew high in the sky. The blue atmosphere open and bright.

Finally, they arrived at the cabins. They were insignificant and wooden. Lined up like soldiers along the gravel ground. There was a wooden campfire sitting in the middle. A big cabin for the teachers (unfair) and another for an eating quarter. Everything was made of wood and it hurt her eyes. Too much wood.

The sign at the entrance read, Pine Wood Camps.

They all went to the eating quarters and everyone sat on tables, well almost everyone, Gemma was the only one standing up because there weren't any extra chairs apparently.

I think everyone hates me, even my English teacher. Really, I think everyone Is set out to ruin my life, she muttered.

At the end of the meeting everyone was assigned to cabins and to her absolute trouble she had to SHARE cabins, why couldn’t the others just sleep outside? She was taken to Cabin 3, along with Stephanie, one of the sporty girls, who were popular. Angel, the nerdy one. Katie, the annoying one, she keeps on rambling on about her short-lived career of being the face of a toothbrush company. Gemma despised her. How could she ever live with these three, in a small dusty cabin for a MONTH?! She had to leave. But they were stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere. Where did Mrs. Magel even find this place, probably from her shady husband who keeps saying that when the police are around be on high alert, because he always is. There are rumors that say he is an escaped felon. Gemma didn’t care, right now. All she wanted to do was leave. And she was going to!

As they unloaded their bags in silence, Mrs. Magel came in and passed them sheets, they were chores sheets. They had chores to do?! Ok, Gemma had to find a way to escape! The nights were too dark, but in the day, everyone was out. Evening would be right; she would finish dinner early and get back onto the track through the forest and by the dock. The boats came by whenever you pressed a button, letting them know that someone was waiting at the island for a boat. The journey all together would take at least seven to eight hours. It would be almost daylight when she gets back to the land. From there she would have to take a taxi into the city, take the next train back into central New York and then another train back home. To Gemma that was way too long, so she decided to stay for a few days to chart out the place and try to find the quickest way out of this misery.

“I aint doin’ this,” Gemma said as she tossed the piece of paper onto her bed.

“You gotta be kidding me Gemma, you have to do it.”, Katie laughed.

“You aint my mama, leave me alone. I do what I wanna do. Got it?”

“Ok... but if Mrs. Magel finds out you aint doing your chores, you're gonna get into trouble.”, smirked Katie.

Gemma growled at Katie before turning back to unpack her bags.

By the time they were done, it was dinner and they had to go outside to eat. Who eats dinner outside, in the dark? It was WINTER for god sake! Still, she stepped out the door and into the eating quarter. It had been decorated with beautiful lights and string decorations, it looked nicer than it had before. When you climbed up the few stairs to get in, there was a buffet of food. Heated, smoking pasta, warm rice, and spaghetti. Along with sides, desserts, drinks, and sauces. Maybe camp wasn’t so bad?

Erase that, the food is good, camp is bad.

Gemma took her seat on a table and grabbed up some food. Pasta was her favorite so she got that with some sides. The desserts bar was not open yet, so she waited as she ate up her dinner. As everyone else piled in to get their food, Gemma went to the bathroom. Dinner, for her was done.

As she opened the door of the bathroom, she found out that it was a one-person room, there weren’t any cubicles. She locked the door and sighed. Finally, some peace and quiet. The toilet was cold, but she was indoors, and the heater was on. That’s weird she thought. The mirror on top of the sink was small, and a little high. But not too high. She could still see herself.

Tired and messy…

Bright golden lights hung above her, making the lighting in the room look beautiful, in spite of her looking not her best. Putting the lid of the toilet down and resting on it, she thought about her scheme.

Wait! Before they came to camp, whilst they were in the forest Mrs Magel gave everyone a map of the forest and what camp will look like. She remembered that she put it in her hoodie pocket, so she grabbed it. Delighted, she opened the sheet and stared at it, searching desperately for a speedy way to get into the forest and outside of it. The sheet in her hand shook, as excitement grew inside of her.

A knock at the door, made her jump.

“Hello? Who’s in there? Are you okay? Its Mrs Magel.”

“Oh its-err- Gemma. I’m fine miss, I’ll be out in a sec.”, she said panicking.

“Ok, the dessert bar is open now, so if you want some, come get it before the others finish their dinner.”, she smiled.

“Yeah, yeah. I will.”, Gemma got up and pretended to wash her hands, she hadn’t used the bathroom. She unlocked the door and outside she met Mrs Magel, who used the toilet after her.

Gemma walked to the dessert bar. What should she get? There were different types of cakes, puddings, pies, and custards. Ice cream too. Who’s kidding? She grabbed two pieces of each dessert, except the apple pie. She didn’t like apple pie, it made her feel sick and want to throw up. Putting her desserts on plates and bowls, she stumbled away to her room, balancing the treats carefully on her hands and arms. Lucky, Gemma didn’t choose the top bunk and so she clambered onto her bunk. Putting some of the desserts on the bed around her and on the floor.

Angel didn’t have dinner and so she had already gone to bed; well, she was reading. They intelligent girl was sleeping on the opposite bunk and spotted how much Gemma had bought with her from the buffet.

“Hey Gemma? What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be having dinner?”, she put her book behind her and climbed down the bunk ladder. Slowly, she walked to Gemma’s bed.

“I had dinner before everyone else came, the dessert bar opened a few minutes ago, so I grabbed pretty much everything and ran away.”, she laughed.

“Can I have a piece of chocolate cake?”, Angel asked.

“Yeah, sure you can have a slice. Just remember that I love my dessert so only a slice!”, Gemma made it clear. Angel nodded and grabbed a piece.

Quickly, she grabbed the map from her pocket yet again. Scanning over more routes, she got her notebook and started to pinpoint them. Angel stopped munching on her piece of cake and gave her a perplexed look. Gemma looked up but disregarded her.

“What- err-what you doin’ there?”, she raised her head to see.

“Oh-er I’m just looking at different places in camp. Yeah.”, nodding her head, she stuffed the notebook and map back into her backpack. Together they ate the rest of the desserts.

As they finished up the other girls came. Katie and Stephanie, walked in and got dressed for bed, not even saying hello to Angel or Gemma. Why did she have to share a cabin with the two coldest humans?

Angel thanked Gemma for letting her eat the treats together and went straight to bed. After a while, Stephanie walked in from the bathroom, followed by Katie. And they both went to sleep. Gemma, however, was still awake. She sat up on her bed. Staring into the cabin’s darkness. She still hadn’t changed out of her clothes and didn’t take a shower when they had arrived a few hours ago.

Suddenly, she became aware of one fact she hadn’t considered all day- this was the first time she was away from home. Far away from home. In shock, she got her slippers on and went outside. The cool night air brushed against her straw-colored hair. The saplings waved around in harmony with the wind. It was a friendly, breezy night. The silence made her sigh deeply, it was the first time in a while she was able to breath freely. She smiled. Staring into the murky, deep-rooted forest that startled Gemma she shook her head because suddenly, something caught her eye. A movement in the woods. Then the loud sound of leaves crunching. The peace had been ruined.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”, she shouted out into the air, confused about who could be out at this time at night.

Nothing......

“Hello? Michael is that you? I’m not scared y’know!”

Gemma sighed and started to walk toward the woodland. It was just Michael. Right?

Gemma’s bear arms were freezing as she got closer. Her messy hair following the direction of the wind, which was now getting stronger.

Another crunch. A twig- SNAP!

It echoed around the whole camp. That wasn’t Gemma… Maybe it is just an animal. It must be. Who else would be walking around in the creepy woods at midnight? Cautiously entering the woods, her eyes darted around, trying to make out what was making that noise.

“Hello?!”

SNAP! With that leaves fired up into the air, the- whatever that was- started to run. Run fast. Inhumanly fast. If a human doesn’t run like that then it’s safe to say it’s an animal. Or so she thought…

Jumping at the sound, she hit the tree with her foot. Now she was scared. Turning to walk away, she noticed something that she hadn’t before. A shoe. A Nike shoe. Whoever or whatever that was, was wearing shoes. Maybe this isn’t an animal after all.

“Hello?! I aint gonna hurt ya’. Why you runnin’ from me?”

Suddenly, whoever that was stopped. Froze. More twigs snapped. More leaves crunched.

“What?”, a quiet voice croaked. It was so quiet that if even there was a breath, she wouldn’t have been able to hear it.

“Hello? What your name?”, she grabbed a ring light her mum gave to her and shined it in front of her.

“Camila.”

Gemma walked closer and smiled.

“You didn’t come with us when we were on the trip. I know we don’t have a Camila in my class. What you doin’ ‘ere?”

“I was left behind from my other class. I have been living inside the cabins until you came.”

“Do you wanna come back to the cabins? I’ll tell miss that you need somewhere to stay.”

“No, it’s okay. She will think I’m suss.”, Camila shook her head and walked off.

Nothing seemed fishy about Camila. Gemma chased after her. She was going to let her stay. Whether Mrs Magel wanted her to or not. After she caught up with Camila, she agreed to come back to the cabins and stay with her. In the morning they would talk to Mrs Magel.

They walked back to the wooden cabins. Talking about what they should do the next day.

As the early morning rose, the teachers came to wake everyone. Going from cabin 1-20. As Mrs Magel came to Cabin 3, she jumped at the sight of Camila.

“Who is this?!”, she asked as she grabbed Camila by the arm.

“Mrs Magel, that aint how you say good mornin’ now. This is Camila. ‘Er other school left ‘er behind and she’s been takin’ shelter in the cabins, but when we came, she ‘ad to go to the woods. She has nowhere to go. Just- miss look at ‘er.”, Gemma continued to tell her teacher how she found her. Despite her getting into trouble for being outside alone at night, Mrs Magel hesitantly agreed to let Camila stay.

Little did they know that Camila was not who they thought she was, instead a manipulative demon…

Camila became popular when she was introduced to the rest of the class. Everyone was all over her, asking questions like the nosy news reporters back at central New York. Camila didn’t seem to be fazed by the others and answered them like a pro. Had she been discovered by other students from other school, who were rude enough to just leave her alone? Or was she one of those popular girls at her old school, who knew?

As the day continued, Camila and Gemma stayed together and helped with everything. They began to become close friends. And by the end of the day, Camila knew everything about Gemma and Gemma knew everything about Camila.

Mrs Magel called everyone outside into the greenspace. They were going to play a game, to reward them for their work during the day. (Today was just a working day, getting the campsite cleaned up).

“All right everyone before we play the chosen game for today, I have some exciting news,” she smiled happily that it seemed scary, “Tomorrow we will be going a hike through the woods and up into those hills!”

She turned to point at the far away green hills. You could barely even see them as they were hidden behind a few long pine trees. The class groaned.

“That sounds lie fun, why are you all moaning?”, Camila spoke up.

“That’s the attitude. Well done Camila.”, the teacher praised her.

Camila smiled. She had told Gemma that she loves the outdoors and wouldn’t complain if they were going on hikes. When Gemma told her that she was the complete opposite they laughed.

“Ok, today we are going to play a game of catch with a twist. During the game you must be silent and quick. When the ball is thrown to you, if you catch it your fine but if you miss the catch you aren’t out yet. You have a chance to still be in the game. If the ball has been passed to more than three people, whilst you run around the circle, you are then out. Remember if I hear you, even just a whisper, your also out.”, Mrs Magel started the game by throwing the ball to Camila.

The game went on without anyone dropping the ball and so the teacher tried to make it harder. Finally, after some time, the ball started to be dropped.

As the game continued to go on for a few more minutes Camila kept winning every round so Mrs Magel had to take her out for a few rounds. Once other people started to win, she put her back in, but as soon as she passes the ball to another student their hand seemed to be freeze. Ice growing out from their fingertips and grew around their palms. In a few seconds, their whole hand was covered in an ice block. Teena who had been the victim of this mysterious incident screamed when saw what happened. Mrs Magel shrieked out and took her to the First Aid Room.

“You continue on playing,” she gave Camila a strange look and continued to take Teena.

“What the hell was that?”, Michael stepped forward and picked up the ball.

“I don’t know that was weird.”, Gemma replied.

Everyone turned to look at Camila, what had she done?

“Do you have powers or somethin’ ‘cos that was strange? Your weird.”, someone in the back said, it was Katie.

“Excuse you, don’t talk to me like that!”, then she threw herself on top of Katie.

They started to fight each other. Shrieking and arguing.

“Camila! Stop that!”, Gemma shouted.

“Shut up!”, she cried.

Gemma grabbed Camila off the floor and pushed her to the side. Camila brushed herself off and stormed off to the cabins. Gemma chased after her.

Camila

I ran away from the others. Who did that girl think she was? Ugg if it hadn’t been for Gemma, I would have KILLED HER! Slamming the cabin door open I sat down on my friends’ bed and unrolled my sleeve. Good, its still there. I am lucky I didn’t change. Staring at the blank wooden cabin walls, Gemma came in. Quickly I rolled my sleeve back up.

“What was that outside?”, she said.

“Leave me alone! I haven’t been around others lately.”, I got up of the bed, “I didn’t do anything to Teena, I don’t know what happened out there, but I didn’t do it.”

“I believe you but its not about that. You threw yourself onto Katie!”

“Don’t you not like her anyway?”

“Yes, but you shouldn’t have done that. Like her or not.”

Suddenly I felt a tingly sensation in my arm, uh oh I was going ti change. I do not know why I can’t control it. If she sees me, I must kill her.

“Sorry, I need to go. Ill be back in a few minutes.”, my voice lowered, and Gemma gave me a puzzled look and nodded. Quickly I ran out of the room and ran into the woods behind our cabin. I liked it when I changed though. I roam around killing. I was going to kill Gemma when I saw her the other night but when she offered me to stay in the cabins with her and meet the other students then I knew it would be the perfect opportunity to do some work. The dark clouds began to spill out rain.

“HLEEO WAHT ARE YUO DINOG HREE? I JTSU WNANA PALY. FLOLOW ME!”

I stood in front of the little girl. So, her name was Katie. She was a thin girl, brown hair. Pretty eyes, too. My hand tightened as I squeezed the air out of her, like a helium balloon, what fun! My long nails digging into her arms, I want to inflict as much pain I can as possible.

“DNOT CYR IST OLNY GNONA HRUT A LTLTIE BTI.”, I laughed.

Now was she scared? If she was lying before then now, she was.

Katie dropped onto the floor, weak and lifeless. I got my sharpest nail and sliced her neck off, clean.

“Goodbye Katie.”, and with that I turned back into Camila. An innocent girl, who secretly found joy in killing not just enemies but friends too.

Walking out of the woods, I took good care to clean myself off and for no one to see me. When I walked back into the cabins, I saw Gemma had gone. I went out the front door to see where she had gone, but there was no sign of anyone.

Eventually I found them all in the First Aid Room. This was bad, if they found Katie’s body out there, they would know somethings up. So, I blended in, everyone didn’t even notice that I had been gone for the last half hour.

Aww, they were all worried about poor Teena, I thought sarcastically, pathetic humans.

Gemma

As soon as Camila left in a hurry, Michael walked into the room. Quickly, she turned around to see what he was doing.

“Why are you here?”, she asked.

“We are all gonna go check on Teena wanna come?”

“Yeah, sure I’ll be there in a sec…”

“Alright.”, then he went.

Gemma sat down, she felt sick to her stomach suddenly. Then she noticed something, when Camila left, she noticed something weird about her friend. Before she left, her voice changed. Like…it was getting deeper or something. She didn’t know. Shaking her head, she left the cabin, trying to keep herself stable, and went to the First Aid Room. When she walked in, she saw Teena’s hand being stuck in a boiling pot of water. Teena was screaming, not in pain but in sheer fear. Fear that her hand would be stuck in an ice block or boil and pieces would clump off. She had seen it before…

“It’s okay. Teena all you need to do is stop-stop screaming it is okay.”, Mrs Magel encouraged.

Gemma didn’t want to look anymore. She turned around.

A few minutes later, around twenty minutes or so, Gemma noticed Camila had returned but acted as if she hadn’t seen her. Maybe she was still upset about it.

“Hey, Gemma, can I talk to you for a sec?”, her friend asked.

“Yeah sure.”, grabbing her arm tightly she led her out of the door.

When they stepped outside the wind suddenly brushed up the leaves in the direction of the woods, where Katie’s body lay lifelessly on the ground.

“What’s wrong Camila?”

“I-I I don’t know how to explain it but I kindaaaa……”

“Kinda what?”

“I kinda- might have something to do with the freezing of Teena’s hand,” she said as she darted her eyes around and played with her fingers, “I’m not saying I did it, I just might have like broken her hand and then because of the cold weather I thought, ‘hey it might be funny if I put water on the ball and see if it freezes her hand.”

“Ok? Why are you tellin’ me this now?”

“I just wanted you to know.” She smiled.

Gemma smiled back and together they walked to the cabins. She then told her about how she couldn’t bear to watch Teena anymore. Camila offered for a walk in the woods, apparently, she had seen a swing in there and they probably could fit on it, both. Agreeing they set off to the woods.

“It should be near here somewhere, it’s kinda deep in.”, Camila said.

“Ok.”, Gemma was excited, she liked swings, but she didn’t tell anyone because everyone would think that she was a baby or something. Slowly they continued walking deeper and deeper into the forest. As they got closer to the said swing, they stumbled upon something sinister. Something that scarred Gemma. Lying on the floor of an oak tree was a body, a body Gemma definitely knew.

Katie’s…

Her head was cut off, her arm scratched deeply by something that looked like claws. Blood was still pouring out of her, spread around the tree and dirt. Gemma felt sick to her stomach. Camila helped her as she ran a few trees behind to vomit. Before she chased her, Camila grabbed Katie’s beheaded head. She smiled at her and spoke. “Have a great day in HELL!” and ran after Gemma.

“Are you okay, I’m so sorry I didn’t even- “

“Its okay…okay…”, she breathed heavily.

Straightening herself, Gemma suggested they should go back and inform Mrs Magel about their discovery. Camila said no!

“We can’t, not yet. I think we must keep it a secret. No one can know, got it?”, Gemma nodded in response and together, trying to ignore Katie’s decomposing body, and walked back to camp.

Gemma’s lips quivered in fear, she was the only one who knew, (apart from Camila), and she just didn’t know how she could ever keep this a secret. There was a murderer among them.

As the minutes went by, the students in the First Aid Room were piled out as the ambulance came and collected Teena.

Gemma had to leave now no matter what!

Dinner wasn’t the same as it was on the first day, everyone was confused about the events of today. Gemma was affected the most, she had seen something she had never seen before. But Camila, on the other hand, seemed fine. As if it was normal to see a dead corpse on the ground of a creepy forest. Gemma had guessed it was because she just killed animals all the time, so she wasn’t that troubled by it.

At the end of dinner, Gemma grabbed some sweets and went into the bathroom, she had to relax. She had to take time and think about what she had just seen. Gathering up all her thoughts she opened the door. The toilet was dark, unlike it had been before. Probably the light just wasn’t automatic like she thought it was. Walking into the room and closing the door behind her, she searched for the light switch. Maybe it was outside, and she had missed it but when she had checked there was no switch. Gemma gave up completely and then realized there was a small amount of light coming from the full moon outside, so she used it to her advantage.

Now, where was she? Oh yes, she had to plan her escape and she was going to bring Camila with her now. They had to leave now, more than ever.

The scrunched-up map was still in her jeans. Pulling it out slowly she sighed deeply. What was going on?

No-one needed to use the bathroom, so she was in the whole time, planning out everything perfectly. Sadly, there was no signal at camp and Mrs Magel had taken away all the phone when they arrived.

Wait, what time was it?

1:30am?! Sitting inside the bathroom, she had completely lost track of time. Getting up in a panic, she tried to open the door, but it was locked tight. Fumbling with the doorknob, she banged at the door. Oh, for god’s sake, she had stayed behind after dinner Mrs Magel had locked the door! Oh no!

How could she get out now? Helplessly panicking she prayed for someone to save her. To need to use the toilet during the night. To wake Mrs Magel from her sleep.

“HELP! HELP! CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?! IM STUCK INSIDE THE TOILET? CHEF? MRS MAGEL? CAMILA? ANYONE?!"

Continuously she banged at the door all night, but no-one came to save her. Giving in she sat back down and put her laid her head against the wall. What was the point anymore?

Her mum had told her, “Sometimes you need to give up and just go home. If you know there’s nothing for you there then just go!”, it wasn’t the best of advice and Gemma didn’t really know why it had popped into her head now. She had also said, “Stop looking for the answers look at what Is given or in front of you.” Then her face lit up, searching a for a way to go. For a way to leave. If she wanted to escape, she had to be able to escape a small bathroom, right? Maybe she was being tested, tested for her strength.

Darting her eyes around the room, they set on a small thin window on the roof, Gemma was small enough to fit through it. Grabbing the edge of the sink bowl and placing her leg on the cupboards, she was able to mount herself up and stand straight. The window wasn’t open but through it she could see into the woods and the other cabins just in the corner. Grabbing the window handle, she pushed it with all her strength. Falling forwards, she almost fell off the counter.

“I just needa wriggle out here, slowly…”, whispering, she pulled herself up and through the window. Now she was half in and half out. Suddenly, looking at the gravel ground made her dizzy, she wasn’t even more than 2 meters high and yet she felt as if she would faint, and that was exactly what happened…

In the morning, she woke up to the loud noise of shouting and murmurs of other students. Although she was aware of people and could hear voices, they were all blurry and muffled. She shook her head and found herself in the First Aid Room. How had she been teleported from being stuck in the middle of the toilet window to lying in a sick bed?

Then it came to her realization that she had fainted and been rescued by Mrs Magel when she was doing night cabin check. She had forgotten all about that. Gemma hadn’t slept all night and maybe that was the reason she had fainted when she had. Her head throbbed and everything was swirling around. The noise in the room grew louder and louder until it became to loud to even bare to hear.

“Now, now get out let’s give- “, she could make out a few words from her teacher.

“Where-? Where am I?”, she said getting up from the sick bed and sitting up.

“Oh, Gemma your awake,” Mrs Magel turned her head.

Nodding her head, she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Suddenly, her back started to ache. Like she had hit it hard or something.

“Are you alright?”, her teacher asked, looking at Gemma like she was crazy.

“Yeah, yeah im fine. How did you- how did you find me?”

“Well, I saw you lying in the ground and got some help from the nurse. You fainted. How long where you stuck inside the toilet and what were you even doing?”

“I ermm-“, what was her best excuse?, “I erm- I slept. Yeah, I slept in the toilet I was really tired. Didn’t get no sleep last night, you know what I mean?”, she laughed nervously.

“Oh ok, just rest. You need it.”, her teacher turned halfway before turning back to face Gemma, “Have you seen Katie by any chance?”

OH NO, they are onto them. Camila said if anyone knew there would be a big problem. But she couldn’t lie to her teacher, (she had lied to her multiple times but this wasn’t a time where it would be any fun or good to lie, this was a genuine and creepy problem.)

“No, sorry haven’t seen her", and with that answer Mrs Magel nodded and left.

Gemma spent the rest of the day in the First Aid Room being constantly checked over by the nurse and her teacher. As the night rolled in the visits became less frequent until they stopped completely.

A scream. A scream that shrills in the night. It grew longer and longer.

Gemma woke up, and dashed straight out of bed. However, was screaming was still screaming and they would still be alive, right? Grabbing her slippers, she slid out of the room. Surprisingly no-one had woken up. Where was the scream coming from?

From inside the forest. She didn’t dare to go in by herself but she had to, find out who was screaming and what was going on. Was it the murderer who had killed Katie??

Cautiously approaching the Woodlands, passing through the high standing trees. Gemma walked slower and slower as she walked deeper into the forest. Searching her pockets for a possible flashlight she found a small ring that had a light, her pockets really did have everything! The light was small though not enough to see in front of her but she had to make do. She switched it on and continued walking.

The scream was still going and now it started to sound closer. Finally she was getting closer but then at that moment she felt as if the scream was almost- fake. Like there wasn’t really somebody out there needing help or in danger. But she had to shake that feeling off, there was someone is there who needed help and she had to do, she just had to…

When

Like no one was screaming and there wasn’t anyone in danger or needed help. Gemma had to shake of the feeling though, who other than a human can make a scream like this one.

When she reached the spot of where she thought the scream was coming from she found someone on the ground, lying in the cold on the edge of a wooden log. Who was it?

“Hello? Who are ya?”, she asked tilting her head to the side to see who could possibly be out here screaming.

“He-help… Gem-Gemma?”, a croak voice answered, it was Camila. She needed help.

Quickly Gemma walked over to help her friend.

“What happened Camila, “she noticed a big gash in her stomach and her hands we blue, they were freezing up! She was left out here to bleed. To die!

“Gemma I-I can’t be fixed, just leave me out here…”, Camila was getting weaker and weaker there would be no way for her to carry her back I into camp. She had to find help, but, where could she? They were deep inside the forest. So, she had to try another way:

“Help!! Hello?? Camila is-", her scream was cut off by Camila's hand covering her mouth. But Camila can’t stand up because her stomach was cut open! Wait…

“Shhh-shhhhh….”, she whispered.

“What are you doing”, her voice muffled.

Suddenly Camila started to transform into something inhuman. Something that looked like it came out of your nightmares.

White colored piercing teeth, like needles. Her hair became pale, just utterly white. Her hands and nails began to extend and soon they became so pointed that if you unintentionally touched her your head would chop of, which was what exactly happened to Katie…

“Cam-Camila? What are you…you?”, Camila took her hand of her mouth and put a finger on her lip, silencing Gemma again.

“TIHS IS A FNU GMAE INST IT”, she smiled and as she did her mouth unhinged dropping down and her teeth scratching against her chin.

“No-no not fun, not fun at all”, Gemma replied horrified.

Camila dragged her sufferer to the log and told her to stay put. But Gemma wasn’t just going to linger around for her to kill her she was going to make a run for it. Nodding her head, she watched as the monster walked into the trees and around them again… she was playing the waiting game. As Camila went back around the tree, Gemma saw it as her chance to run, to dash and leave. Leave forever and never come back to this hell. Camp really was the worst.

Gemma shot up and sprinted into the darkness. Weirdly, Camila wasn’t chasing after her, she just waved her goodbye and continued on circling the trees, this wasn’t right. Why wasn’t Camila chasing after her?

Then she found out…

Camila was incredibly fast. Super-fast that when she ran you couldn’t even see her. Seizing Gemma by the neck she dashed back into the forest.

“HELP! HELP MEEEEE….”, she screamed into the night air but it was no use the monster has frozen her lips shut.

She smirked.

When they arrived back to the log, Gemma was becoming weaker and weaker. It was time to finish her. Time to end Gemma’s life of nothing but misery and sadness…

Camila

Finally, my plan was coming together, and her plan was failing, she was the last one left… the last one I needed to kill. I couldn’t wait to see the blood pour out of her and the ice cube turn a beautiful dark red color.

Raising my hand I paused, I had to tell her something,

“I ARLEDAY KLELID EVYREOEN SO TREHE WSA RALELY NO PONIT IN SOTPIPNG YUO” and lowered my hand. Slicing her neck in half, I froze her head it a huge ice block.

My job here was done.

Turning to walk away, I looked back at Gemma, her body lifeless and blood pouring out of her neck, filling the ice block around her head with frozen blood. It was beautiful and now I knew I was capable of more than just murder.

I walked out of the woods and back to the first place I saw the class walking into the camp, right into my trap…

Now I sit here, watching and waiting for you to come,

Trust me when you’ve met me there’s nowhere run,

My freezing hands,

Will ruin your camping plans,

As I slice your neck,

I’ll make you a wreck,

Now I sit with you, you don’t know who I really am,

And when I show you my true self,

You’ll become a prize on my iceshelf.

Goodbye Gemma… :)

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lenjaminmacbuttons · 5 years ago

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how this kid spent their Quarantine Sunday

Opening Hymn: #30 - Come, Come, Ye Saints Invocation: me Sacrament Hymn: #176 - ‘Tis Sweet to Sing the Matchless Love Sacrament imaginarily administered by reading Moroni 4 & 5

Speaker: me. i walk up to the podium from the middle of the congregation cus i forgot i was speaking today and didn’t sit up on the stand. fortunately i do not trip on my way up. i am wearing a cute flowy dark yellow skirt and an insanely cute white blouse with lemons on it that i bought yesterday and am now obsessed with. i clear my throat and introduce myself briefly & awkwardly and you look up at me with equal parts anticipation and pity.

So last night I dreamed that I was riding a train on a track through a park. It was going pretty fast, but I was chilling, going out to a car that had an open door and sitting with my legs dangling over the edge and letting the wind whip my hair around and watching the scenery zoom by. On a sharp turn, though, I lost my grip on the purse in my lap and it fell to the ground. The train was going too fast for me to just jump out and grab what I’d dropped, but we were getting toward the end of the track, so I rationalized that I could just ask a park employee to pick it up from where it landed.

(cool this got Real Long)

When we got to the end of the track, I got off the train and told my mom what had happened. She had been on a train car behind me, but didn’t see me drop my purse or where it had landed. I asked a few other people if they had seen or picked up my purse, and they said no. A park employee came up whose job it was specifically to follow behind the train and pick up stuff that people dropped, and he didn’t have it either. I was getting frustrated and worried, but checked my pockets real quick just in case--I still had all my essentials on me: phone, keys, chapstick. My purse was mostly just a comfort item with some old pens and half-full notebooks and I think a little bag of candy in it. I’d be able to get by and keep living my normal life without it, but I’d be missing some things that I really loved and wanted.

Finally I decided I was gonna follow the track back and find the purse myself. My mom pulled me back a little--there were actually two train tracks in front of us, how would I know if I was following the right one? But the difference between the tracks was pretty obvious, and they were following about the same route anyway--how hard could it be? I set off walking down the track, walked for a few minutes, passed the place where I’d dropped my purse--and I didn’t see it on the ground. And I started to panic. And then I lifted my head up to see a bench a few yards away from the track, and there my purse was, waiting for me, sitting neat and pretty and safe.

And then I woke up and realized what day it was and realized that the whole dream was a freakin’ metaphor.

I’ve gradually been losing trust in the Church with everything that’s been happening. Things like going to church or talking to people about it or seeing LDS messages on social media don’t make me feel happy or peaceful, just alone and stuck and stressed out. And for a while I’ve been thinking that if I stop going to church, that means dropping all my faith that I’ve built up my whole life entirely. I’m zooming by on a windy train of events and my faith fell out of my lap.

Nobody else was willing to go out and pick it up for me. Nobody else seemed to care that much that I’d lost it, or even notice where it’d gone. And sure, I had everything I basically needed without it, I could keep living my life and be fine. But I wanted it back. It was something I’d had for a long time and gotten attached to. It had things that I’d worked on, things I wanted to look back through and keep working on, and tools to keep doing the things I loved. And it had a little bag of candy in it!

The path to get it back looked tough to choose, easy to get lost, but how hard could it be? I just had to get off my tush and start walkin’ and look for it myself. And I couldn’t find it right where I had lost it, but as soon as I looked around, it would be there waiting for me, neat and pretty and safe.

So I got up out of bed, got dressed, and grabbed my quad & my little hymnbook. I opened the hymnbook up to a random song, got the accompaniment up on my computer, and I started my personal little sacrament meeting, and my faith was right there waiting for me.

I know the closing of church meetings is causing a lot of struggle and heartache around the world, but I’m so grateful for the opportunity to look deep into my own spiritual needs and wants, to be able to study the scriptures without anybody else’s opinion and without any rules or stress or feeling like I’m not doing enough. And to be honest, now that I’ve had this experience, I feel like I’d be okay if the quarantine was lifted like right now and it all went back to normal right away. Whatever the institution does or what other members say, I’ll still know that I believe in God and Jesus Christ, and that I love the Book of Mormon with all my heart. I’m going to keep those things with me for the rest of my life, and if I ever lose them again, I’ll know that it’s just a short walk by myself to find them again. And I say that in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Intermediate Hymn: #256 - As Zion’s Youth in Latter Days

Speaker: Mormon, as transcribed by his son Moroni. Go read Moroni 7. It’s good. also note how he uses masculine pronouns when talking about faith and hope and feminine when talking about charity and the whole thing is about wanting to have all of them. mormon is a nonbinary icon thank you.

Closing Hymn: #275 - Men Are That They Might Have Joy Benediction: me refreshments will be served in the kitchen i have cereal and uhhhhh i was gonna say oreos but i ate them all last night. i have cereal. let’s go nourish and strengthen our bodies.

#talkyllama #lds #and now it's time.....for my after-church nap #good night everybody

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ohgoddard · 5 years ago

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Truth, Justice, and the Symbol of Peace.3.

Musutafu, Japan

The TV had been on non-stop since Izuku left for that walk, turned to the news as always. But Inko noticed something different. The table that sat before the TV no longer found itself covered in used tissues and All-Might figures. No, this time it was covered in numerous notebooks and textbooks he had either bought from stores or checked out from the local library. Books on electrical engineering, basic mechanical construction, and a guide on how to box like a champ.

He started to come home late from school every day now. The first few times he had come home sweaty and tired, she thought he finally picked himself up and joined an after-school sports team. The books he bought and brought home with him could be written off as a new interest to keep himself busy, and maybe a renewed interest in his studies. He has always been an investigative child, one who could notice something about a person and dress them down to their barest personality characteristics.

But then he started to come home dirty and bruised.

Now, Inko was no idiot. She was not so dumb as not to notice this change of appearance. It didn’t happen much, maybe once in a few weeks. He would leave for school, come home at 7 or 8, and be hiding all sorts of bruises under his hat or jacket. Is he getting bullied at school again?

Just when he started to feel better, she saw him grimace when he walked. And every time she would ask about it, he would give her the same sheepish smile he always gave and say something like, “Don’t worry about it mom. Nothing bad is happening at school, its all good.”

But she knew something was up. You do not raise a kid for a decade and a half without picking up on their ticks and tells. No, he was up to something. But as much as Inko suspected something… she didn’t push it.

Izuku has been the happiest he’s been since he first saw that video of All-Might, carrying the survivors from the flaming rubble of a fallen building. His gigantic smile reflected onto her son’s, his words making him physically bouncing with excitement and amazement. She had missed that yearning of his. So when he walked in late at night, no matter how exhausted and bruised he tried to hide, she let it slide. Every worry that she was being the bad mother was beaten back, never satiated but lessened, when she saw that same light in his eyes. His spirit was back.

=====================================================================

“I don’t have powers.”

Those words have not left his head since he heard them. They stayed in his head at school, on his walk home, when he slept. He had no powers. The thought of someone taking down two thugs with quirks, no matter how low level they were, when you didn’t have one was astounding. More so than that, it was so cool. The flips, acrobatics while using confusing gadgets that can stop a large man in its tracks and enabling him to climb buildings? Unheard of! People don’t make gadgets to be a hero on their own, they use them as additives to their quirks. He just had none.

And Izuku wanted to be like him. It was all that he thought of. He kept the news on in his home and was always recording, just in case he was found on camera. But he has kept a low profile. Criminals and villains were sometimes found hanging upside down and unconscious, but no one in sight to take credit. No calling card, nothing. The cries of vigilantism came from the people and the Hero Organization, but they literally could not do anything. No one could find this guy.

No one but Izuku has even seen him.

But seeing him once was all it took. And it awakened him to something. He could be a hero without a quirk. He’ll just have to work harder for it. So he started running after school. It was hell at first, the miles seemed to go on forever. It didn't help that he started lifting at that time too. Sneaking into the school weight-room after it closed and the sports teams had left after practice, he struggled to lift even the smallest of weights. Weeks he did this, with only the smallest gains being noticed physically. For a small kid to be doing this, he was risking a lot of bodily damage if he didn’t do it right. Which he often did, dropping weights on himself when he became too confident in his strength. Sometimes he pushed himself too much when running and pulled muscles. Sometimes he tried to do acrobatics and fell flat on his chest, landing on the rocks near the stream under the bridge where he practiced in secret. So every night he came home, tired and bruised sometimes. He started to push himself more and more, and so more and more bruises came.

The concerning questions his mom made to try to find out about his activities he lied about. He felt bad, but she would not let him do this if she knew. He needed to do this. So he said he was alright, nothing bad going on. Just a middle-schooler coming home late because he’s finally getting involved with the school clubs and teams. The bruises? Just an accident from practice, no worries there!

Lying made him uncomfortable, but he needed to keep doing this. He would be a hero, the #1.

And he’d do it his way.

Metropolis, Illinois

“So everyone has powers over there, huh?”

All-Might was sitting across from Clark Kent in a very busy diner, and felt very uncomfortable. Despite Clark Kent being a huge man, All-Might far outweighed him. So the clothes he had lent him were a tight fit, at best. The diner was your typical greasy spoon, the chromed bar tops and smoking waitresses (which is not an adjective on their looks). Clark Kent was sipping on a small cup of coffee, turned an almost beige color by the amount of cream and sugar he put into it. His suit was a baggy business variety, two sizes too big for him. It made him look far more small than he was, the glasses and hair style in much the same way. Had All-Might not seen Superman himself before, he would have never guessed this was the same person.

Which made him wonder how anyone did not recognize him. He was a giant man, one who stood out even among the crowds in his home. The clothes he had been lent gave a tight fit, making him appear a gorilla in a business suit. His blond hair had been combed over and over again by Wonder Woman, who’s name he learned to be Diana. How it happened was a blur, her combing his hair. The same day Superman held a meeting concerning him, he asked if anyone could help him with his appearance, to make him easier to hide in normal society. Diana had declared such a thing a mockery of her time. The memory loss occurred when Superman had said, “What? Don’t think you can do it?”

For ten straight minutes, All-Might found himself being meticulously combed by her. He was not entirely against the idea, him being human and all. However, he could do without the constant mutterings that she uttered about the situation and Superman and where he could put a stick of a thing called Kryptonite. Superman had assured him that no one would recognize him from the behemoth that saved the day a few days ago. And to his credit, no one did.

“Well, not everyone.” All-Might adjusted the necktie he had on, which was actually two tied together. The comment illicit an eyebrow raise from Clark, who put down his coffee cup.

“Really? How is it chosen who gets powers and not?”

“Its an evolutionary trait. And not everyone’s power is the same, they more often than not reflect their personality and upbringing. We call it a ‘quirk’. Like a little tick in people’s personalities.”

Clark rubbed his chin, intrigued. “That is very interesting. And what is your.. Quirk?”

All-Might smiled internally, already having fun with the conversation he was going to have.

“Oh, I don’t have one.” He then took a small sip from the comically small coffee cup.

“Really.” The voice of suspicion that Clark had let out was palpable. A small snicker escaped All-Might. “No, really! I have no quirk!”

“I find that very hard to believe, All-M- “ He stopped talking. “Actually, what is your name? If you do not mind me asking that, it would just make conversation a lot easier.”

He pondered on it. There is no one in this world, save for All For One, that knows his name. Nor would giving it out put anyone but this Superman at risk, someone he believes can hold his own.

“Toshinori Yagi. Toshinori is ok.”

Clark Kent smiled. “Alright then, Toshinori. I still find it hard to believe you have no quirk.”

A low laugh left All-Might as he bit into a pastry Clark had ordered him.

“I tell the truth! I have no quirk. What power you have seen was not mine.”

“Then whose power was it?”

Clark could tell he struck a nerve, the heart rate in All-Might changing.

Damnit Clark, he thought, spend your whole life on Earth and you still can’t talk to a person.

“I, uh, would prefer to keep that to myself if you would not mind.”

Clark nodded. Unlike the others, he did not suspect Toshinori of foul play. He could sense a true hero in him. He had no bad values, always striving for the same things Clark did. Maybe that's why he just...trusted him. That, and Clark was generally just a trusting person.

“Well,” Clark said in the tone someone speaks when they want to end a conversation that has taken a turn south, “it's about time we get your first day at the Planet.”

All-Might stood up, collecting his large overcoat that he had been lent. “I cannot thank you enough for this, Mr.Kent. I need some of your currency, I feel bad for mooching off of you and the rest of the League.” A smile grew on Clark’s face, “Please, call me Clark. Now there’s a few things you need to know about your new job. One, you’re door security for the Planet. A few weeks ago there was an armed robbery that really shook the building. You should take care of it easily. Two, there's a few people you need to look out for inside. One is Jimmy, a redhead. A clumsy kid, so you gotta make sure he doesn’t get into trouble.”

All-Might had pulled a notepad from his inside jacket pocket that Clark had left there when he last wore it and was writing furiously. And messily. Good thing I didn’t get him the reporter job. “Jimmy...alright, anyone else?”

“There is a woman by the name of Lois Lane. I won’t need to describe her, believe me you’ll know when its her. She is a stubborn headed person, so she kinda gets into trouble a lot. Look out for her, alright?”

After another minute of furious writing, he tucked the notebook into the jacket. “Alright. Though, Mr,K- Clark. I am very bad at talking with women. A terrible track record.”

Perfect. “Don’t you worry. You’ll get the hang of it.”

=====================================================================

The uniform the Daily Planet gave Toshinori Yagi was equally ill-fitting as the rest of the clothing he had worn in this new world. He had a sad feeling that the first paychecks he collected would go to custom tailoring. He stands at the lobby of the building, right in front of the two big doors that hundreds of employees walk in and out of every day. Really, nothing seems to happen for a long time.

The biggest event on his first day of work was meeting the woman known as Lois Lane.

When she walked in, had to almost slap himself. She was gorgeous. And she was also with Clark Kent. Toshinori got an idea why he wanted him to look after her. As she walked in, engaged in a heated conversation with Clark about a story he somehow stole from her, she looked his direction and halted in her steps.

“Lois? Why the sudden stop?” Clark had walked beyond her spot, turning to face her.

“And here I thought you were the biggest brick wall in the Planet. Clark, when did we get a door guard?”

“I don’t know, I never seem to catch up on the memos.”

Lois rolled her eyes and walked right up to Toshinori. “Uh..h.. Hello ma’am. How may I help you?”

She smirked. “And so polite too! You pick him out, Smallville?”

“Hey now! I don’t have a monopoly on politeness in the city you know.”

As they left for the elevator, Clark gave him a sneaky thumbs up before going up.

This is going to be a very stressful job.

Then the road outside exploded.

#superhero #superman #superhero story #original #original writing #my hero fanfic #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia #allmight #All-might #boku no academia #boku no hero fanfic #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #izuku midoyria #deku midoriya #bnha deku

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reifromrfa · 6 years ago

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Be Happy: Zen x MC

MM Angst week Day 3: Danger | Death

Hey guys! Here’s my entry for day 3 of @mmangstweek ! This was both thrilling and heartbreaking to write, and I hope I was able to deliver the idea and message clearly! There’s a song that accompanies it, which I totally urge you to listen to on loop as you read the story.

You can listen to the song, “Take Her to the Moon” by Moira dela Torre, HERE. She’s a Filipina artist and I really love her style and her songs ^^ Don’t worry though, the song’s in English! If you don’t want the song on repeat, I advise you to play it when you see the ♪ in the fic :)

I hope you guys enjoy the fic, and happy angst week! ;)

_____________________________________________

Be Happy: Zen x MC

He doesn't notice when the city buildings turn to trees, when the day turns to night. Everything passes by him in a blur, his crimson eyes watching the road but at the same time, seeing something else. In his mind, all he can see are a pair of hazel eyes, twinkling in the moonlight.

Zen revs the engine and his motorcycle speeds past the main road and onto the path leading to his secret place, the place only a handful of his friends know about. An ironic smile crosses his face; the CEO-in-line is one of those people. But his heart clenches when he remembers Jumin standing beside him that day.

That day...

He shakes his head. Not yet. Not now.

Zen closes his eyes and listens as the sounds of the guitar fill the room, a serene smile plastered on his face. His head is propped on the arm of their sofa, body stretched out as the warm afternoon sun filters in from the small basement window. The voice of an angel fills the room and he can't help but fall in love with her all over again.

"...So before we say I do, would you please hold me close tonight

Be with me"

Zen opens his eyes and gazes at MC, sitting on the other end of the couch by his feet. Her brown hair is piled messily on top of her head, her eyeglasses slipping down her nose as she leans forward and hastily scribbles musical notes and lyrics onto her notebook. Then when she's done, she straightens and readjusts her guitar on her lap.

But when she notices his eyes on her, MC turns to her boyfriend and giggles. "What?"

Zen grins. "Jagiya, have I ever told you how beautiful you are?"

MC's cheeks turn pink but she nudges his feet with her leg. "I think you mentioned it before, but I don't mind hearing it again." Then she laughs. "But not when I'm like this! I didn't even comb my hair today!"

Zen sits up, his eyes bright. "Ya, Jagi, this is exactly why you're beautiful. You don't have to do anything, you don't have to dress up or even comb your hair." He moves his legs and scoots closer to MC. Zen's fingers brush her cheek and he sees her get redder. "You're an angel, MC. My gorgeous angel."

MC reaches up and touches his hand, then turns her face so her lips can kiss his fingers. "Hyun, I love you. You're too sweet and charming for your own good, mister! I don't want to be an angel though, I just want to be a simple girl who's in love with a handsome knight~"

Zen traces her lips with his fingers and he feels her body tensing, her lips parting as she inhales sharply. "No...you're definitely an angel, MC. Maybe an angel who lives on the moon. And every time there's a full moon, you'd come to earth and grace the knight with your presence."

MC pouts, grabbing his wrist and pulling his fingers away from her lips before she combusts on the spot. "But Zenny, that's too tragic. It means I won't get to see you all the time?"

"Don't all love stories have a little bit of tragedy in them? Besides," Zen says, inching closer to her. "One day, the knight will find a way so the angel doesn't have to go back to the lonely moon. And they'll spend the rest of their lives happily on earth, together."

MC is grinning from ear to ear, knowing her boyfriend is now lost in the script he's created. "But Hyun, what if the angel has friends on the moon?"

Zen pretends to mull it over, his face scrunching up in concentration. He shrugs and says, "Then I guess the knight will have to find a flying horse so he can take her back to the moon. And when they're flying, she can hold onto his waist tightly."

MC laughs out loud. "Hyun! She's an angel! She can fly!"

"I know, but she'd want to be as close to the knight as possible, right? He's so good-looking that she won't be able to resist the excuse of holding onto him tightly."

MC lightly smacks her forehead with her palm before nodding seriously. "You're right. I didn't think of that. She'd totally bury her face on his back and take the opportunity to feel those abs under the knight's shirt..."

A wicked grin spreads on his face. "His abs...? Jagi...didn't I tell you all men are wolves? Even the knight will end up unleashing his beast on the sweet, innocent angel."

MC winks. "Maybe the angel wants to be corrupted a little~"

"She does?" He shifts in his seat until he's only a few inches away from her. MC shakes her head.

"Ya, ya! Hyun, I need to finish this song by this week!" MC protests, scooting away. But Zen reaches for her waist and MC squeals as he pulls her closer to him.

"But my angel," he says in a low voice. "When the morning comes, we'll have to part once more." His crimson eyes are full of sincerity and MC has to remind herself how to breathe. "So tonight...grant me this moment with you."

"Zen--"

His lips find her neck and MC gasps, then moans as he sucks on her collarbone. "H-Hyun..."

Zen grabs her guitar and takes it off her hands, placing it on the floor before he reaches for the hem of her shirt...

"Hyun."

"Mmm?" he murmurs, tongue playfully licking her skin. He feels MC's hands on his shoulders as she pushes him away. Before he could ask what's wrong, MC has already stood up, heading for the kitchen.

"Jagi? What's wrong?" Zen asks. He moves the guitar so he doesn't step on it and that's when his eyes notice the drop of blood on the smooth surface of the instrument. "Jagi?" Zen stands and goes to his girlfriend, who's reaching for a hand towel.

"Sorry, babe. Just a nosebleed. Total turn-off, I know!" She laughs.

He reaches his secret place and Zen finds a spot to park his motorcycle. Then, the silver-haired actor walks to the edge of the cliff that overlooks the city. In the dark, the lights twinkle and glisten beautifully. Once, he found them beautiful. Hell...MC called this view "dazzling". And she's right, it is. But it's not the same now...

Zen swallows the painful lump in his throat but he can't stop the stinging of his eyes as hot tears begin to blur his vision.

The day MC got that nosebleed was the start of it all...the start of the end. The nosebleeds got more frequent until he took her to see a doctor...where they were given the news that MC was sick.

Zen remembers all those damn tests, being in and out of the hospital. How MC started to look paler, thinner. The entire RFA doing their best to help. The CEO-in-line even bought them plane tickets to see the best doctors in different countries.

But their diagnosis never changed. The numbers did...the numbers that sent fear into Zen's very core.

"Two years."

"Nine months."

"Twelve weeks."

They all said they could do the treatments, of course. Different treatments that could help ease her pain, help her get better. Who knows, maybe their predictions were wrong...miracles happen everyday after all, right?

In those days, Zen realized that hospitals all smelled the same...hospitals all looked the same. No matter where they were, he saw the same, familiar white walls. God, he grew to hate those white walls. But it didn't matter, because the woman who brought color to his life would be there, in that dull, colorless room, smiling at him.

Zen reaches inside his leather jacket for his pack of cigarettes, grabbing a stick and putting it between his lips. Taking his lighter in his hands, he raises it to the cigarette but hesitates. MC always told him to stop smoking, that it isn't good for his health. She's right, of course...but...

With a sigh, Zen pockets his lighter and puts the cigarette back into the pack. MC would be sad if she saw him smoking again. Instead, he plugs his earphones into his ears and goes to her playlist.

The one she specially made for him, the one she left for him.

He clicks play and shoves his phone back into his pocket. Zen lays his arms on the metal railing, leaning forward and continuing to stare at the city skyline without really seeing. Because now he lets his tears flow freely down his cheeks.

"Zenny! Haha...babe. If you're listening to this right now, you must be missing me. I miss you too, Hyun. I hope you've had your meal, and that you're somewhere warm and comfortable. But if you're on the subway, then be safe, okay~? And I hope you're smiling right now. Because I'm about to serenade you with my beautiful angelic voice! So..." MC makes a show of clearing her throat and Zen gives a small chuckle, imagining her face. "Without further ado, here's MC's top ten billboard hits!"

His ears are filled with the strumming of the guitar strings and Zen closes his eyes, picturing her in their living room, tirelessly working on her songs. He imagines her messy hair, the loose strands he's always itching to brush away...the crease between her eyebrows when she struggles with her lyrics or the chords. Her lips parting when she's staring at her notebook, lost in thought. The way she scratches her nose when she's annoyed or frustrated.

Song after song, Zen keeps the image of his beloved MC in his head, until the playlist goes to the last track and his heart twists painfully in his chest.

This was the last song she sang publicly...

"Zen, let's go to the cafe tomorrow."

Zen looks up from his phone, eyes focusing on MC beside him in their bed. The hospital released her, saying she could stay home as long as Zen watches over her and she takes her medications. Her next treatment is already scheduled and Zen's just grateful to have her home, so MC doesn't need to be trapped in that stifling hospital any longer.

"Tomorrow?" Zen glances at the calendar on his phone --Wednesday night. "Tomorrow is open mic, Jagi. You want to see the new performers?"

MC shakes her head. "I want to sing, Hyun."

Zen stares at her, processing her words. Slowly, he nods. He wouldn't be the one to stop her from doing what she wants, not now. In his head, he's already thinking about the medications he'll need to bring, where her thick jacket is.

"Okay, babe. Sure, let's do it!" He smiles and kisses her cheek, wanting to stay positive for her. "I want to see my girlfriend perform."

Zen announces it to the RFA, of course. And the following night, everyone is there, seated around a table as the lights dim and MC walks up the stage. Zen watches her by the side of the stage, heart swelling with pride. Under the small spotlight, MC is glowing. He's certain the cafe patrons wouldn't even notice how loose her sweater is, only how beautifully the brown-haired singer is as she sits on the stool and adjusts the microphone.

"Good evening," MC says into the mic, her cool voice making the cafe clients turn their heads to her. "I'd like to share with you an original song I've been working on for quite a while now." MC smiles. "I dedicate this to someone special...a knight who likes to gaze at the full moon."

Zen's eyes widen.

She laughs into the microphone. "I know this probably doesn't make sense, but it's a silly tale my boyfriend told me. And...and I'd like to dedicate this song to him. I hope you all enjoy."

MC's fingers start strumming and her body sways slightly as she gets into the mood of her song. Zen stands there breathlessly, awaiting the moment her voice reaches his soul. Finally, MC opens her mouth and starts singing.

♪"I know it's been a while since our eyes last met

Too many words were left unsaid

Your head was poking out of the driver's seat

Eyes full of tears, I couldn't leave"

"Couldn't...leave...?"

Zen can feel dread seeping into his bones, but even if fear is making its way into his heart, he can't look away from the angel pouring her heart out on stage. The entire room is quiet, everyone enchanted by MC.

♪"No matter what I do I still feel you coming back to me

When I know that you never will

So before I say goodbye, would you do one last thing for me

Be happy"

"No...no, babe. Don't say goodbye. Don't say goodbye. I can't be happy without you."

♪"And take, take her to the moon for me"

"Her? MC...Jagi, no."

"Take her like you promised me"

"You still remember the knight's promise to the angel? Haha...Jagi, you're adorable."

♪"Say you love her every time like how you told me the last time"

"But what are you saying? This is...no. Why are you telling me this?"

♪"Someday I know we'll meet again

In heaven by the rainbow's end"

"Yes, Jagi. Yes, I'll be there with you, I'll meet you there."

♪"And I only wish you happiness

Until we meet again"

"But MC please. You have to know...You have to know you're the only woman I'll ever love."

Zen leans against the wall as the words sink into his head, into his heart. The song...her words. He understands what she's trying to tell him. To find another, to love again when she...

God. Zen bites his lower lip to keep himself from crying. He's still holding out hope that everything will be alright. He knows his MC will pull through this, they'll be able to overcome this. So why...why is she singing this? Why is she telling him this?

He can feel the glances from the RFA's table but he can't tear his eyes away from the love of his life. Her enchanting voice resounds around the room as she begins the second verse.

♪"Wish I could stick around and fight back your tears

Tell you 'My love, I'm still here'"

Zen feels his tears slipping down his cheeks. The weight of their situation hits him and the truth is suddenly too real, too suffocating. He finally allows himself to understand...

♪“Someday we'll understand why I had to leave

But for now I need you to set me free"

...that he may need to live the rest of his life without her by his side.

♪"No matter where you are

You'll always have my heart"

Zen smiles sadly, nodding to himself. His love knows him too well. She knows how he's been in denial of their situation, how he's been trying so hard to stay positive, to reassure her that everything will be alright. But he knows, he knows what she's trying to say.

♪"No matter where you are

I'll love you from afar"

"Zenny, there's a chance you'll have to let me go. Whether we like it or not...we'll be parted. But know that it's you, it's you I'll always love. Don't be scared, Zenny. This is only temporary...don't be scared, my knight."

Zen is smiling despite his tears. She is a woman like no other he's ever met in his entire existence and even in this terrifying moment of uncertainty for their future, her future...he can't help but love her more. In this moment, as she bares her heart out on stage, he wants to run to her and hold her in his arms and tell her again and again how much he loves her. To scream to the cafe, to the world how much this woman means to him, how she is his and he is hers, forever.

The room is silent, no one dares to break the solemn moment, the beautiful, heartfelt melody of the woman touching each of their hearts.

Jaehee is already crying, her heart breaking as MC's message rings around the space. Yoosung has his head bowed, eyes hidden. But there's no mistaking that his shoulders are shaking. Saeyoung puts an arm around Yoosung's shoulder, pulling the youngest member to him and giving him a gentle squeeze. His own eyes are wet, but Saeyoung swallows his tears, not wanting MC to see him cry too.

Jumin has his eyes closed, arms crossed in front of him. Jihyun knows his best friend must be aware of the message behind MC's song. He sees Jumin swallowing, eyebrows knit, and Jihyun swipes at his cheek to wipe away his own tears. His turquoise eyes search the room to find Hyun. He spots the actor near the stage, tears streaming down his face. But there's a faint smile on Zen's face, his attention riveted to his love.

♪"No matter what I do I still feel you coming back to me

When I know that you never will

So before I say goodbye, would you do one last thing for me

Be happy"

"I'll always love you, my angel...my princess...my MC. Jagi, I get it. I get it. I'll still fight for you, I'll fight for you until the very end, MC. I'll pray for that miracle.

But loving another...taking another to the moon. Haha, sometimes I feel like I don't deserve such a wonderful, brave, talented, amazing woman like you. I'm sorry...I can't take another to the moon. Because if...if...if you leave me...

I know you'll be there on the moon, waiting for me. For your knight.

Thank you, Jagi, for wanting happiness for me. I'll be happy...don't worry, I'll be happy. As best I can. But you're the only one I want to take to the moon. The only one I'll go to the moon for. Silly girl...I love you so much, MC. I love you."

They had seven more blissful months together before she was taken from him. Zen listens to MC singing in his ear, the voice he misses so much so close and yet...so far out of his reach. He gazes at the full moon in the clear sky, eyes glistening with tears.

"MC," he says out loud, as though he's talking to the moon. "My moon angel. I did what you asked...I took the love of my life to the moon. That's right...one year ago today. I took her to the moon. She was smiling at me before we parted."

Zen sniffs and smiles before he continues. "I told her everyday how much I love her. I still tell her, in my dreams. And you know what, Jagi? I also told her...that no matter where she is,

she'll always have my heart."

His heart is aching, longing for the one he loves and Zen breaks down, allowing himself to cry. Today is her death anniversary, after all. He's allowed to cry, he's allowed to let himself miss her and be weak. The actor braves each day without her by his side...and he tries his best to live, to be happy like he promised her. Even though he has to walk each day alone, he doesn't mind; he's still very much in love with the woman who infiltrated their chatroom so many years ago.

As the song comes to an end, MC's laugh rings in his ears.

"Tada! I may have changed the lyrics for this song a little, Hyun...But I love you too much to let those genes go to waste! Haha, so love, don't be afraid to love again, okay? Hyun...I know our time was cut short but know that I love you so much and you made me so happy. Everyday was a wonderful melody with you, my knight. I love you..."

"No matter where you are, MC," he whispers, voice trembling. "You'll always have my heart. No matter where you are...I'll love you from afar. And one day, we'll meet again, like we promised, babe. I'll go to the moon if I have to. I know you wanted me to find a girl, so I wouldn't be alone...but I already have someone I love. I'm just waiting for the day we meet again."

Hyun Ryu stays there for a while longer, gazing at the moon and wondering if she's watching him from the heavens.

When it was time to leave, he takes a deep breath and wipes his tears. She may be gone, but his love for her will never fade, never wane. And someday, they'll meet again...he honestly believes that. But for now, while they're apart...he'd like to keep one promise that she asked from him.

...

MC’s fingers hovers over the stop button. She wanted her last words to him to be positive. No more goodbyes, no heartaches...no pain. She wanted him to remember her with that dazzling smile on his face.

She grins despite the tears in her eyes. Leaning into the microphone, she says:

"Hyun Ryu, you'll always have my heart. I love you. Be happy."

She ends the recording.

"Be happy."

_____________________________________________

I’d love to know your thoughts for this ^^; Thank you so much for reading, guys <3 More angst to come!...if I can finish them on time hahaha :))

_____________________________________________

Check out my other Mysme writings here!

Mango Shake/Ko-fi is always very much appreciated (ᵔᴥᵔ)

I’d be honored to write your story <3*

Become a Patron ! :)

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thegastricadventure · 5 years ago

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My Binder’s Origins

When I was getting ready for my first steps down the road of this surgery I had to go to a meeting. They went over the the different types of surgeries, the pros the cons and the amount of weight you might lose. It was a great source of information and right before they did it they gave everyone in the meeting a 1″ white binder that could be used to house all the information in.

It was a great starting point but I knew I would need more than 1″ worth of space. I went out and bought myself a 2″ binder and even that is too small. I am thinking I may have to upgrade again.

While you go through each meeting and class you are going to be given more and more information. As I have stated previously I would suggest you keep all of that stuff together. You have no idea what you may need again and again. Thus my binder in all it’s glory was born.

As you can see I kind of blurred out all the information about my doctor and the program. If you are serious about this procedure you need to contact your General Practitioner first and go over what your best options are. They will get you in contact with the right people to take the next steps. Plus, your GP and you should always be on the same page. They are the ones who do your yearly physical and are vested in your everyday health.

Now, my binder on the front and the back hold information, as well as something I got from one of my group meetings. I picked it at random, I closed my eyes and grabbed it out of a box of little supportive messages.

Remember The Now

To me this meant that the person you are now was strong enough to start this journey. When you think you are losing yourself to the depression or angry because you hit a wall you need to remember the person you where when you started the journey.

Did they know you would get this far? How excited would the past you been at this moment knowing you’ve gone this far. You have already done so much, those classes, group meetings, support pages on Facebook, message boards have all added to this, step by step. This isn’t an overnight thing it takes time and is a lifetime commitment.

So remember the now, remember where you started, remember that feeling when you saw the potential to where you may go and who you hoped you’d become!

As we get into the meat of the journal I have a little pouch for all my pens to live in. You may not need this but I like color I like putting certain information I get in certain colors. I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again, I am anal retentive about this stuff. It’s how I am wired, I was like this in school too (primary, secondary and college).

So I not only have pens, but a highlighter and a pencil with extra led. It doesn’t hurt to be over prepared. Plus this way you know you always have a writing tool around.

Next, I have a list of all of my known allergies and how I react to them, medications (both prescriptions and over the counter) with their dosages and times you take them, vitamins with the times you take them and how much, medical issues and if you have it when they were diagnosed, short record and when you last got those vaccine boosters, past surgeries with month and year and finally broken bones also with month and year if you are able (I had two broken collarbones and an elbow before I was 7 I don’t really remember what month they happened in).

Spiral notebooks. I have two in my binder. One was for notes from the nutrition group and my actual group support meetings. The second was for notes that I took as I did my research and the lists I made because they were what I found out on my own. You can certainly use loose leaf paper for all of this too, but I find it is easier to keep things together in notebooks.

As you get farther along and get to meet with your surgeon for the first time they may give you a Patient Guide. This holds information on what to expect from the surgery, your mile stones, how to keep track of your food, portion control and exercises. Mine also has a lot of highlighted spots of things I thought was important. They want you to read through this book at least once before your surgery. I read through it 2-3 times so if I had questions I could ask.

Next I have folders. Yep plain old folders. I have one for my food information, such as sample meal plans to what to avoid. The next one was information from the support groups and from the initial meetings. There is a lot that gets handed out, it is good to keep on top of everything. The last folder is doctor and hospital information. You have discharge paperwork, proof of shots gotten (like the flu and other immunizations) you can even put your prescription information in that one.

Behind my food folder is extra things, such as recipes in plastic sleeves that I have created over the past couple of months to help with my portion control and protein intake. There is also food logs, these I suggest you start right away. It gets you into the habit and also allows your doctor and dieticians to know when and what you are eating so they can help you modify it as needed.

Behind my group meeting and classes folder I have the copies of the PowerPoints they gave me. It allows me to have quick access and I am able to reference everything as needed.

Finally in yje two inner pockets that are built into the binder. There I put the papers that have the questions I want to ask, also food labels of stuff I want to make sure I am able to eat.

Above is an example of that. I brought in this empty bag when I had my preop appointment with my surgeon. This is pasta that is gluten free and have 4 g of protein in it. My doctor told me they want to to stay away from carbs but if I am going to eat a little bit of them, this is a good one to have. It adds to my protein, calcium and iron counts.

I also have in the back pocket information from Bariatric Advantage which has the endorsement of my doctor and dietician. They sell vitamins geared towards gastric surgery people and other protein packed supplements. I also keep my hospital release records papers in this pocket too, because you never know when or who you need to get information from or to. Never hurts to have it all together and filled out so all you have to do is sign and date it when you take it into the various offices.

So yeah this is where I got my binder and everything within it a bit more in-depth than the group of pictures I posted earlier.

#resources

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balancingdiet · 6 years ago

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Tabula Rasa

Detective Conan & Magic Kaito Characters: Shinichi/Kaito Words: 3100 ish Chapter: (1) … (18) (19) (20)

Shinichi always finds his neighbour weird. But he didn’t expect to find his neighbour lying on a patch of grass and donned in Kaitou Kid’s costume, too.

Dear Diary, 24 Dec

Hello! Before I start, let me first introduce myself. My name is Aoko, and I like to cook and volunteer at the hospital. There’s always this sense of accomplishment whenever people enjoy my cooking and company, and it makes me happy when they are happy!

What else... Oh, I haven’t thought of what I want to be when I grow up, but I do have lots of inspirations around. First of all, my dad is a Police Inspector! And Kaito, my childhood friend/neighbour is an amazing magician! Both Keiko and Sayaka, my close friends in high school, aspire to be a baker! Yuna too, wants to be a vet.

Ok, I think I’m starting to drift away from the main topic... Anyway, this notebook was a gift from Kaito. Or not. He said he got it as a complimentary item for some stuff that he bought online... But well, the fact that he even thought of me is already pretty sweet.

I originally wanted to use this book to do my homework, but Keiko suggested writing a diary with it, so I shall give it a go! Let’s see how long this diary-keeping thing will last (^-^)v

Dear Diary, 4 Jan

Bakaito got a cold today.

Okay. Let me rephrase that.

Kaito got a cold today.

Well, I guess he doesn’t deserve to be called Bakaito when it was sort of my fault that he became sick... But he’s so stupid! Yesterday, I told him I needed help because I sprained my ankle at the supermarket, and he came WITHOUT HIS COAT. It was such a long way home! What was he thinking??

But yeah... so now we’re both stuck at home. Me with a sprained ankle and him with a fever... I guess I can't see Kaito's ice skating fails any time soon! (≧∀≦)

Dear Diary, 22 Jan

Today, Kaito and I went to volunteer at the hospital.

We found out that Mika-chan’s dad passed away last night.

This is so horrible... Mika-chan loved her dad so much.

When I heard the news, I couldn't control myself and had to cry in the bathroom while Kaito started the magic show on his own.

I felt bad. The atmosphere wasn't great and Kaito wasn't in his best condition either, yet he still put on a smile the entire time.

Ended up, his performance cheered me up too.

I don't know what I'd do if Kaito wasn't there.

Dear Diary, 1 Feb

( •̀ω•́ )σ ( •̀ω•́ )σ ( •̀ω•́ )σ

KAITOU KID SUCKS

KAITOU KID!!!!

SUCKS!!!

( •̀ω•́ )σ ( •̀ω•́ )σ ( •̀ω•́ )σ

Dear Diary, 28 Apr

It’s been a few months since Kaitou Kid returned.

I never like him, and will never understand why everyone treats him like a celebrity either. But now... I think I should start viewing this from another perspective.

Since Kid first disappeared, and also mom’s death... I rarely see dad ever energised for anything. But after Kid returned, he's so much more motivated to go to work now. Speaking of which, dad was on his way out to the office before I went to school this morning. He even agreed when I suggested to make and deliver him bento dinner. He never wanted them the last time, just because...

But even though I’ve decided this MAY be the best for dad, that DOESN’T mean I will EVER tolerate Kid’s criminal ways!! Dad is definitely gonna catch him in the end, and by then, let’s see if he can still walk around in his costume!!

Seriously though, what’s with his hat.

He looks stupid.

(」ﾟﾛﾟ)｣

Dear Diary, 18 May

Today, Kaito and I went to Tropical Land.

I know I should at least be a bit happier when I had so much fun, but I still feel a little bad... especially when the reason why I asked Kaito out in the first place was because I thought he was Kaitou Kid! Or at least that was what my dad thought.

But in the end, I’m glad Kaito proved my dad and I wrong.

How can he be Kaitou Kid anyway?

I think I owe Kaito more than just an ice cream treat for ever doubting him. Maybe I should ask him out to Tropical Land again properly next time. And then we’ll have real loads of fun!

Dear Diary, 30 May

EDOGAWA CONAN THE KID KILLER IS MY NEW IDOL!!!

I have no idea who this kid is, but he’s really, really smart and cute! And comparing to all the Kid’s fans out there, I can’t believe it’s A CHILD that knows what’s right and wrong...

Hakuba-kun always uses the right words to irritate Bakaito, but I think the name “Edogawa Conan” has more effect on him. If I could get an autograph... I think it would be the best thing to use to tease Kaito and his stupid obsession with Kaitou Kid! (｀▽´)

Dear Diary, 21 June

Today is Kaito’s birthday!!

I used to always buy him magic crafts and gadgets from our local bookstore, but now that he has the capabilities to make his own tricks, it’s a definite no-no! I considered bringing him to his favourite Ramen store, but I figured it’d be the easiest to just ask what he wanted to do or eat instead.

Guess what was his answer?

He said he wanted me to teach him how to cook fried rice.

I was like what?? That’s it? And he said yeah. So we spent the entire day getting the ingredients at the supermarket before going over to my house. It was easy and Kaito got the steps fast, but... silly Kaito. I mean... if he ever wants to eat it, he can tell me and I can always cook it for him.

But oh well! It’s nice to know Kaito wants to learn something else besides magic tricks. I had fun teaching him anyway. And I believe he had fun too!

As long as he’s happy, I think that’s all that really matters.

----

“Kudo-kun!”

Shinichi shut the notebook and turned, watching as Takagi walked to close their distance on the rooftop. Keeping the book inside the pocket of his suit jacket, Shinichi greeted back.

“I thought you’re taking a break.” Takagi gestured to Shinichi’s suit once he stood beside him. “Turns out you’re reading your notes? For a case?”

“No, it’s not anything related to work.” Shinichi afforded a smile, but there was just so much his lips could move as his heart squeezed at the thought of Kaito.

Takagi nodded understandingly and said nothing more, which Shinichi couldn't be any more thankful for. “Anyway, I’m not sure if anyone told you since you missed this morning’s debrief, but a new division is on its way.”

“Yeah, Inspector Megure did tell me,” Shinichi said.

“I’m so glad things are going back to normal for us again.” Takagi heaved out a relief sigh after a long stretch. “And maybe by then, you can also focus on what’s worrying you all these while.”

Shinichi blinked. “...What?”

Takagi raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been worrying about something, or someone, haven’t you?”

"Um..."

“I may be wrong, and I’m sorry if I am. It’s just that I noticed some similar things in you that I had whenever I worried for Miwako-san.” Takagi scratched the back of his head. “I hope things are okay for you.”

“...Thank you.” Shinichi turned and looked over the view beyond the roof. “Anyway, you’re not wrong. There’s someone I’ve been worrying about recently.”

And that was all Shinichi could say.

It wasn't just for the sake of Kaito’s privacy or identity. The truth was, Shinichi had no idea what to do besides worrying. And this was the first time he felt so, so useless in this entire decade of his life.

He pressed a hand over his suit, feeling the bulge from the notebook.

“Then I hope things will work out for that person too...” Takagi’s voice trailed off as his brows furrowed in concern. “Actually, is he or she someone I know? I’ll be more than glad to help if I can.”

“No, you don’t know him... but he did knock you out disguise as you before,” Shinichi muttered at the end.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Shinichi smiled. “Thanks for your concern. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Takagi slapped a hand over Shinichi’s back. “We’re a team after all.”

----

Dear Diary, 16 July

Kaito has been pretty busy lately. And tired. Yes. Definitely tired.

I thought it was related to his track-and-field club and went to ask Chihaya-chan, but she said there wasn’t any recent competition lately. In fact... Kaito hasn’t been an active member since many months ago.

I then asked Kaito a few times about it, but he always deflected my questions and started talking about other things. And that is ALWAYS his habit. Guess what, BAKAITO??? The more you try to avoid, the more obvious it becomes! <(｀^´)>

I'm so frustrated at him, but you know what’s even more frustrating? It’s the way he never fails to make me want to forgive him in the end even though I should have stayed angry at him longer. Always giving me those pretty roses and placating me with Tamago...

So SO FRUSTRATING!!

Dear Diary, 11 Aug

Kaito fell asleep in class again.

It’s not like I’m worried for his grades when he never needed to pay attention in class to score well (;¬_¬) What I’m worried about is his health.

I’ve already given up asking why and what he is exactly busy with, but I’m afraid he’d started stressing himself to attend the volunteering sessions with me, just because he doesn’t want me to worry...

I’m grateful, and forever will be, for those days when he accompanied me to visit my mom and even signing up for the volunteering program just for me. I’m really, really grateful for all he has done and all that he is doing now, but what I want is to be able to help Kaito, to lift whatever burden he is carrying... And what I want even more is for him to trust me. Trust me enough so that I can do all those things I want to do for him...

Just... ugh.

Stupid, stupid Bakaito...

Dear Diary, 9 Sep

Today is my birthday.

We didn't have school and Keiko asked why I didn’t take the opportunity to hold a party, but to be honest, it slipped my mind. I had been so busy with homework and worrying about... well, yeah.

Dad has work, but he wished me early in the morning before he went. Keiko, Sayaka and Yuna came over to my house and baked a cake for me. Everyone in the hospital helped to celebrate too when I went to volunteer in the evening. Kanna-chan even made a bracelet as a gift! Having a party or not, I still feel extra loved today.

As for Kaito... he had wished me in the morning through a text, but I didn’t see him all day. He must be busy.

It’s fine anyway. There’s always next year.

OH my god. Bakaito CAME.

Guess how did he do it?! He had climbed up to my balcony and scared the hell out of me! AND HE STILL HAD THE CHEEKS TO SAY HE WAS 12 MINUTES EARLY. He must be some monkey in his past life! ヽ(ಠ_ಠ)ノ

He then asked me to follow him to his backyard. Like, seriously, he could have called or texted me on the phone instead of climbing up to my balcony... but beside the point, I followed while he led the way.

And turns out this Kaito... He had cultivated a bush of blue roses as a gift for my birthday.

Oh boy... It is really, really beautiful!!!! And I think I must be so overwhelmed that I just... sort of pounced onto him as a form of...thanks. (//∀//)

I called it a hug, and he called it an attempted murder.

Then with only 3 minutes left, he sang me a birthday song with Wasabi and Curry sitting on his shoulders while Tamago sat on his head. I think I hadn’t laughed that hard since ages.

And I think I hadn’t seen Kaito looked so bright and cheery for a long time.

He told me to make a wish afterwards. But to be honest, I don’t think I needed one.

At that point of time, I felt as though all my wishes had already come true.

Dear Diary, 1 Nov

With the way Bakaito has been handling his life, I knew he will fall sick sooner or later...

He’s now down with a cold and a fever and has been missing from school for three days.

I was so tempted to tell him a ‘I told you so,’ when I dropped by his house for a visit, but I rather Kaito get well soon than to jinx him any further. He kept on drifting in and out of his sleep too, and it pained me when I saw him like that.

I stayed till dinner time and had to force feed him the porridge I cooked, while convincing him that I DID NOT put any fish in it for about 90 times. He seemed to care more about the non-existent fish than his fever and the medicines he hadn’t eaten. Silly Bakaito.

Maybe I should visit him tomorrow again.

Dear Diary, 2 Nov

Today, Kaito got admitted to the hospital. He’s getting proper treatment, but he’s still sick, which is why it’s getting worrisome. This is the first time he’s been sick for so long.

And luckily Jii-chan was around... Or I don’t know what to do alone...

Dear Diary, 3 Nov

Kaito Kaitojis Kaito iskasit

Kaito is Kaitou Kid.

The portrait of his dad in his room... I thought it was just an ordinary portrait. I thought...

I’ve thought so many things.

I just wanted to pack Kaito’s clothes. I don’t know why I heard a sound behind the portrait. I don’t know why I decided to give it a push. I don’t know why the portrait could flip.

I don’t know why I ended up in another room.

I... don’t know.

In the end, I had to lie to Jii-chan that I had something urgent and couldn’t bring Kaito’s clothes.

I can’t face Kaito.

I just can’t.

But then... What should I do now?

Dear Diary, 6 Nov

Kaito is well.

That’s all that mattered for now.

Dear Diary, 7 Nov

THIS BAKAITO. DID HE SERIOUSLY SEND A HEIST NOTE RIGHT AFTER HE RECOVERED?!

WHY IS HE DOING THIS TO HIMSELF.

Dear Diary, �� 10 Nov

It’s been a long time since I went to Kid’s heist.

Tonight’s loot was a golden sapphire, and it was held inside a museum of a very, very wealthy man... And thanks to dad, I got into the museum and avoided being squashed by the crowd that were cheering outside, but I wasn’t allowed to hang out at the main area. I went to the security room instead.

The heist lasted around ten minutes, which was quite typical, based on what I heard from dad. Blackout. Smoke bombs. Escape. But for that ten minutes, dad had spent the entire day with the Task Force and the owner, just to prep enough to take down Kid.

And as for Kaito... he probably used hours and hours to plan, hours and hours to prepare, and hours and hours to do all of everything for this... and yet after a day or two, he would return the loot back in great condition...

Why?

I can’t figure Kaito out . Or Kaitou Kid. All these things... they don’t make sense. And if I can’t understand, I can’t find any reason to forgive Kaito.

But I want to.

I really want to.

Why is he making it hard for me to do so?

Dear Diary, 14 Nov

What should I do?

Dear Diary, 16 Nov

What should I do?

Dear Diary, 20 Nov

What should I do?

Dear Diary, 22 Nov

What should I do?

Dear Diary, 28 Nov

At the rate Kaito is sending his heist notes, I’m pretty sure he’s going to fall sick again, what’s more the weather is getting really cold soon... How does Kaitou Kid keep himself warm in his costume? And that hat... it’s just ridiculous.

Everything is ridiculous...

Maybe I should have made a wish when Kaito asked me to on my birthday.

Maybe I should have told him how I feel.

Maybe.

I don’t know anymore.

Dear Diary, 24 Dec

This diary is one year old now.

How time flies so fast...

Oh, and it’s Christmas tomorrow too. Keiko had invited me to her house to celebrate, and I think I’m going to go.

It’s the only place I could go.

Dear Diary, 18 Jan

During the volunteering session today, Kanna-chan told me she missed Kaito and his magic shows.

It’s good to know I’m not the only one too.

But even though I feel that every single day, being told about it by someone else caught me off guard, and I didn’t really know how to response. So I just... told her he will drop by soon...

I think Kanna-chan wasn't convinced though, which isn't strange. I mean... I'm never a great liar after all. But it's ironic how Kaito hasn't seen through the things I've been hiding from him until now.

----

Shinichi reached the last written page of the book.

(But it wasn’t the end. In fact, there wasn’t an end.)

He brushed a finger at the bottom of the page, feeling the creases caused by the countless blotches of dried, water stains...

Shinichi closed the book.

Of course he knew better, but it was easier, and nicer, to think it was simply water and nothing else.

#kaishin #dcmk #detective conan #Kuroba Kaito #kudo shinichi #tabula rasa

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fairy-studies-blr · 6 years ago

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Hey guys, this post is all about organizing your life a bit before the new semester starts. I know many of you have already started classes, but you can still implement these tips regardless (if you want to of course). I want to emphasize that this post is not meant to shame anyone for having a messy desk, backpack, or anything else. Everyone is different and what works for me will obviously not work for everyone. However, if you struggle with keeping track of your school supplies, past assignments/handouts, and/or feel as if you can’t find what you need when you need it, then this is the post for you.

Desk

Your desk doesn’t have to be immaculate, but it does need to be at least somewhat organized so that you can have all of your supplies handy, as well as a clear space to work. Before school starts, asses the state of your desk. Clear away any junk that’s managed to work its way in, and then organize what’s left. If your desk tends to get dusty, you can also use this as an opportunity to clean it with a wipe or a wet rag.

You should have a designated spot for all of your pens/pencils, post-it notes, loose papers, etc, but it doesn’t have to be fancy. It could be something as simple as deciding to keep all of your sticky notes in a pile on the right side of your desk, and all of your papers in the top drawer.

School supplies that you normally carry in your backpack I’d recommend getting duplicates of for your desk. That way you don’t have to keep pulling them out of your backpack and forgetting to put them back. As an example, I have a stash of pens in a little bucket on my desk, as well as a huge pencil case in my backpack. I also have two mini-staplers, one for my backpack and one to sit on my desk.

If you have a laptop that you use for homework (or a tablet) you should also make sure that there’s a charging outlet within easy reach of your desk. If not, invest in an extension cord so that you can charge your device while doing your homework.

Backpack

I can’t tell you how easy it is to just cram random junk into your backpack and forget that it exists. Then when you're trying to pull out something you actually need, you can’t find it for all the crap. Before the semester begins, do a “deep clean” of your backpack. Start by dumping everything out and make two piles: what needs to be in your backpack, and what doesn’t. Your stack of what needs to be in your backpack might look something like this:

folder(s)

notebook(s)

pencil case

snacks (avoid leaving these in your bag for long periods of time though)

water-bottle/portable coffee mug

deodorant, chapstick, tampons, etc.

pepper spray (safety is no joke)

wallet

planner

This is by no means an exhaustive list. Anything that’s not in your “backpack pile” needs to be put away. My backpack sometimes gets random bits of dirt on the inside, so once it’s empty I like to go outside and try to shake all the dirt out. The next step is to re-fill your backpack, but don’t make the mistake of just stuffing it willy-nilly. Give each item a designated pocket/section and commit to always putting it back in that section after you’ve finished using it. Doing this means that even if you have a large backpack (like I do) you’ll still be able to find what you need relatively quickly.

As a last tip, I would recommend going through your backpack at the end of each school day, and taking out anything that doesn’t belong in there permanently (think gym clothes, that snack you bought, etc.) If you have anything that you don’t want to forget to bring the next day, you can also take this opportunity to put it into your backpack so that you don’t forget it.

Papers

Invest in an accordion folder before classes start (you can get them for around $7 on Amazon). Designate a specific pocket for each one of your classes, and label them accordingly. Any handouts and graded assignments that you receive in class should go in the designated pocket for that class. It’s especially important to keep graded homework in a safe place, not only for study purposes but also because if there’s ever an issue with your grades it’s easy to resolve if you have the assignment in question.

I have one folder that I keep in my backpack, which I use as a catchall for anything my professors hand out in class. Periodically, I’ll transfer all the documents in that folder to my accordion one, and sort them into their respective sections. I receive so many handouts from professors over the course of the semester that to carry them all around in my backpack would be annoying and take up too much space.

One last thing, I never manage to fill up an entire notebook in one semester. So that I don’t waste paper, at the end of the semester I’ll tear out all the pages that actually have notes on them, and staple those notes together. I do this for each class’ set of notes, and then store the stapled pages in my accordion folder along with the rest of the papers for that particular class. This allows me to reuse the notebook the following semester, and still have my notes handy if I ever want to review the material in the future.

Computer + Phone

It’s extremely important that you have an organized system in place for keeping track of any papers that you type on your computer. Make a folder on your computer for each semester/quarter/academic year, and label it accordingly. Within that larger folder should be separate folders for each class you have. Whenever you create an assignment, save it into the appropriate folder for that class. If you want you can also make a separate folder for more general school documents like forms, general info, etc. If you use google docs to type your papers you can actually make these folders within google drive itself, instead of on your computer.

The next thing you should do is open up whatever web browser you normally use to access school-related sites (student portal, online dictionary, google docs, etc.) Bookmark all of those sites and put them into one bookmarks folder labeled with the name of your school. This saves so much time when you need to access the sites throughout the year.

As far as your phone goes, group together all of the apps that you regularly use for studying into a “school” folder. That way you can find them quickly.

Textbooks

Keep all of your textbooks for the semester/year in one place. This could potentially be your backpack if you have the same classes every day and need to always bring your textbooks to class. If you have different classes on different days then only bring the textbooks you actually need for that day to school in your backpack. You can keep the rest somewhere else (preferably in a place that’s close to your desk and/or where you keep your backpack). If you’re afraid of forgetting to put your textbooks in your bag before leaving for school, make a habit of doing it the night before and you can also set a reminder for yourself on your phone.

You might find that for some classes you never end up using the textbook in class. If this is the case, then you could consider leaving your textbooks for that class at home (unless you plan on studying at school of course).

If you read this far, you’ll notice I didn’t talk about planners at all, and that’s because I have so much to say on the subject of planners that I decided to make a whole separate post dedicated to them. With any luck, it’ll be out by the end of the month (don’t hold your breath). Thank you for reading, and good luck on all of your studies. If you have any further questions feel free to send me an ask or leave a comment.

#studying #organization #college #highschool #get organized #studyblr #tips #college tips #highschool tips #school #back to school #lunetudes #lunavegastudies #adelinestudies #emmastudies #original content

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