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00towns · 1 year

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emails i wrote in november

In November, several of my friends challenged themselves to do NaNoWriMo, but with poetry. I've always been more of a prose gal myself. Last spring, I read The Idiot by Elif Batuman, and became enamored with the endless possibility of the email. I challenged myself to reclaim longform email as the one-to-one, one-to-many sandbox media habitat that it could be from the clutches of the corporate. Here are some emails I wrote in November.

Sun, Nov 6, 1:06 AM

Subject: Hellooo

Dear Avery,

I'm writing this on the train from New York to Virginia, heading home after a week-long museums conference that I attended for work. The conference was interesting but traveling for work always feels like more of an out-of-body ethnography than an academic experience. There's something so surreal about eating cold quinoa salad and tuna salad wraps as fast as you can just so that you can be done eating sooner, trying to network with literal giants in the field as the least qualified person in a room (the director of Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center said she liked my shoes, and I just laughed), and saying awkward goodnights to my coworker as we both try to ignore how work-y it all feels. I was haunted all week by how much I felt like just a flash in a montage portraying a character's average life - buttoning up my business casual shirt, almost spilling coffee on the subway, nodding off in the back of a dark auditorium, even writing this on my laptop on the train. Maybe this is just me getting older, but moments in life that are analogous images to movies or TV (think looking out the window of a taxi as it rains, driving with the sunroof down blasting music, journaling at a coffee shop in the morning) feel more burdened by a set of archetypical narrative expectations than original. Vying for originality is so tiring!

My brother likes to joke that he could never move to the West Coast because there are too many Asians like him there. He's mostly kidding, but I know there's a little real horror there too because I feel it too - like I'm a little too well represented in urban California. New York feels like that to me sometimes too, like the lingua franca developed between young people inhabiting certain corners of the Internet has edged itself into the way we dress, groups, and speak a little too much, and suddenly seeing yourself reflected in someone else is excruciating instead of liberating. The museums conference used the turn of phrase "being able to see yourself" on the walls and in the stories of a museum as a vehicle for assessing outcomes of DEI - if everyone can see themselves in the museum, the museum has succeeded in representing them. In the same way that trendy, wealthy, young New Yorkers eating at hole-in-the-wall Chinatown restaurants turn my stomach (not because of what they're actually doing, but because I'm young, and trendy, and also want to eat there, but not in the same way), I fear the day the actual most intimate parts of my identity are filleted and splattered across an exhibit claiming to represent me.

I've recently reconnected with some friends from high school that I thought i'd never talk to again after graduating and moving to the US. In a strange way, looking back to where I came from and finding I still have friends there has helped quell a lot of my anxiety about how I am right now. Surprisingly, their disconnect from my physical life right now (one lives in Tokyo and one lives in Seoul) has been refreshing - almost as if the last four years of college and all its changes, growth, and contours can still be bounded, as if I can continue to be known in many different ways. After all I've learned, it's still just me. We mostly text, but one of them just left for boot camp for his Korean mandatory service and we won't hear from him for three weeks. Now, I'm challenging myself to have something interesting to tell him when he gets back. I'm wondering if this might be it - instead of a November writing challenge, I may just send emails to all my friends and see what I get back. The only thing I can think of is how the end of the year is coming, and it's almost time for me to look back through the neurotic list I keep of everything that I watched every month this year and decide what I liked the most. Right now, November is battling between Severance (the TV show with Adam Scott, not the book, but both very good), Hadestown, which I just watched this week, and the League of Legends world championships, which I reluctantly watched with my brother but ended up having a lot of fun with. I have a lot of reflections from this museums conference, the most preeminent one being Ireally can't decide if I want to work in museums or not, but that still doesn't really beat the apartment.

Just some thoughts on the mind over the last few days. No pressure to reply - was thinking this form would be something you might appreciate, and this was probably more of an exercise for me than it will be an experience for you. Hope all is well with you, and if reclaiming the email form from work is as appealing to you as it is to me, excited to read anything you might send my way.

Love,

Gabi

Fri, Nov 11, 1:27 AM

Subject: A message for Dan

Dear Dan,

I've been thinking recently about the rhythms of transience that have seemed to be the drumbeat to our lives lately. We move, our friends move, our friends visit, we travel, and anything from just a few days in a new place or three months at home can all just feel like change jangling in a pocket. My family's recent move has taken it all out of me. I'm exhausted sorting out boxes, rediscovered long-lost belongings, trying to maintain a regular life during it all. There's so much mental and physical work to do. Underlying it all, I've been increasingly intrigued by the fact that since finally settling down and carving out my space in a foreseeably permanent home after being in a transient stage since June, something in my brain seems to have shifted into sharp focus after being blurry for a long time. This change in my attitude I've noticed is characterized by slightly improved anxiety, greater executive function, and stronger routine-keeping habits, and is likely congruent with a side of myself that I tend to keep relatively private: I can be extremely particular, anal-retentive, picky about my space in a way that I think is surprising to people. If you'll allow me, I'll muse on this point a little bit by pointing to a behavior that isn't new to me.

I've always been someone who likes to collect things. There's something so incredibly satisfying to me about owning every item in a set, or having a determined set of objects chronicled and dedicated to a single project, activity, or outcome. Being a 'stuff' person has always been a little bit of a point of shame. My family moved a lot growing up, so we were constantly assessing the amount of stuff we have and hauling it into boxes to unpack in a new home, the grueling process of which can turn even the most valuable keepsake or useful item into junk, clutter, crap. After going to UVA, I kept moving a lot as most college students do, but there seemed to be a new avenue open to me to start something of my own personal effects anew because of the skeleton crew of things I brought to my first year dorm. I can only say this in retrospect, but I became a bit of a squirreler, and developed several small but neurotic collections through four years away from home: a robust bullet journal kit, a small army of kpop-related trading cards, and an amassment of yarn for fiber and textile related personal projects, among others that I'll probably unearth as I continue to parse through my things. I've been going slowly through the process of learning how many of these categorical groups I truly have as I unpack in my new space. In facing the 'things' that require endless sorting, I realize that perhaps collecting as I imagine it is less about owning the things, but the process of sorting, assessing, organizing, reorganizing, and storing that can seemingly repeat infinitely that I crave, and the sense of having completed something that comes with it all.

I'm not sure what to do with this element of my personality that loves to own things. it comes with its own idiosyncrasies, like being extremely meticulous about my possessions, even those not a part of a collection. It is a material tendency, and sometimes makes living differently unimaginable - minimalism, tiny-house, digital nomadism, even expatriatism all seem out of reach for someone so intensely committed to their space and the things that inhabit it. I suspect it comes from my mom, who is also very particular about her stuff, a Virgo, and probably has OCD, undiagnosed. In today's world and with the set of values I'd like to think that I espouse, being a collector feels supremely unimportant, but it seems to occupy my mind at least a little all the time (in the cruelest manner, I'm reminded of diaspora poetry, and how one might 'wax poetic' about half a mango or half the heart that lives across the ocean, a constant distraction). How might I come to acquire my next 'thing'? How does this complete or fit into my existing assortment? My obsessive tendencies over these collections ebb and flow and move from locus to locus; lately I've been wickedly attached to the process of organizing and storing a shoebox of ticket stubs, programs, and playbills that was unearthed in the process of this move. I have to imagine that this is not an individual affliction, but sometimes I wonder exactly where my head is when I'm thinking of something entirely else when I try to complete actual tasks or move on to other activities. Alternatively, maybe I just actually need to get screened for something rather than trying to write, reflect, digest it away.

Do you collect anything? If you do, do you notice the same unsettled foundations of the habit? If you don't, what's something abstract that you do have that you could call a collection? Perhaps, thoughts, imaginations, observations.

Just a few murmurings that I've gathered over the last few days - I've REALLY been enjoying this email format as a writing challenge. I'll call it a bid for connection, but I cannot communicate any stronger that I'm sharing with the hopes of reciprocity if you choose to do so, not entirely narcissism. I thought this form would be something you appreciate - but it is slightly more of an exercise for myself than for you. Let me know if this structure is something that inspires you too, and I'm happy to read whatever may come back my way. Otherwise, no pressure to reply. Hope all is well.

Love,

Gabi

Wed, Nov 16, 5:28 PM

Subject: Re: CAJM Follow Up

Luis!!

So lovely to hear from you. Your portfolio is incredible - you really have an eye for intimacy!

Wishing you all the same, and hope you're staying warm.

Love,

Gabi

Wed, Nov 23, 2:09 PM

Subject: drinks for thanksgiving

I’m in charge. Beer and seasonal bold rock

What kind of beer and/or any other requests?

Requests are entertained. Not guaranteed

Wed, Nov 24, 1:59 AM

Subject: cold that gets colder every year

Dear Pasha,

I hope you're staying warm where you are! I love living in a house but it is so much colder than an apartment. When the weather changes my hands get really chapped and rough, and because of that journaling by hand has become a bit tedious. I hope you won't mind if I send you some thoughts and musings from the past few days via email to a dear friend instead.

As I find myself now, almost six months after graduation, I've noticed that I've developed a new hunger for words in a way that didn't exist when I was at school. It's reminiscent of the way I used to devour books as a child, or fixate on fandom in high school. My job isn't particularly challenging, which has its upsides and downsides, but what it has allowed is that my free time is now the time I spend trying to push myself in new ways, rather than recovering from work. I read more, I (try to) write more. I throw things at walls and see what sticks. I learn something new every day. While this isn't entirely distinct from the intellectual curiosity I experienced in college, it's something of a new beast to be pursuing it entirely on my own terms: to no particular end, with no intentional timeline, and with nothing to prove. I'd truly developed a slight fear that I wouldn't continue learning without being forced in the months since leaving school, so this new drive is a welcome one. The only conclusion that I can draw from this fresh way of experiencing myself is this: things tend to self-correct. I don't mean this in an 'everything will work out' way, but perhaps in a way that makes more room for less-than-ideal outcomes -- maybe that things, no matter if troubling or tender, tend to become more legible, more digestible with time, stillness, subconscious reflection. For me, this has been a renewed interest in reading and writing that I'm disappointed that I left unpursued for so long, but can now condense in a way that doesn't emotionally upset me into a logical outcome of the academic environment that we were in. Everything that has happened is correct because it has happened. Everything that will happen will self-correct.

I won't pretend that this new desire to read and write more is coming out of pure strength of character on my part. I'm significantly more lonely now than I was at UVA, meaning I have more time on my hands to do the work of reflecting that prefaces reading, writing, creating. There's no longer something to say 'no' to in order to write for something that holds no water, has no particular purpose. In the best times of fourth year, I felt like a mirrorball of all the people around me so much that I would go home and have to strip down to my underwear, sit in my bed, and stare at the wall for a while before I felt normal enough to fall asleep. As much as I love my friends and feel comfortable around them, I've always been the type of person that feels the most like myself when I'm alone. The hours spent in my room, on walks, in the car have been kind to me. Much of even finding the patience to think, even if just to journal by hand, is developed in the hours spentnot reading or writing. Have you had luck with your November writing challenge? Has the framework of a 'writing challenge' been helpful or counterproductive to writing more?

So: life has slowed, I'm more lonely, I'm not unhappy with it. One thing I hope tonot lose is an orientation towards entropy, an open invitation for disruption, a tendency for discomfort. I'm coming into a new relationship with myself within which I may be 'my own person' but I want to keep open to embodied, proactive experiences of things that are still strange, odd, and affronting for whatever reason. For some strange reason, as I think through how I might continue to keep myself open to new moments of weirdness, I keep coming back to one experience I had with a high school peer. We had had some strange, stupid, high school conflict earlier in our sophomore year and had come to an almost bored truce into our senior year. We definitely weren't friends and had no plans on continuing to be friends after graduation - she was moving to California for college and my family was leaving Korea. I remember leaving school one day with plans to go to a film store I had never been to before to get some film developed and to buy a new lens cap. I ran into her as I was walking down the big hill to the bus stop, and it was one of those instances where a myriad of weird unspoken social rules and obligations all cook together to create a situation where neither party is really happy with the outcome, despite having done everything 'right': we made small talk, I invited her to come with me, and she said yes. It was the end of senior year, in the strange time after exams and before graduation, and we literally had nothing better to do.

To this day, I recall this trip viscerally and sensorily. It was a hot summer day, so we sweated and panted our way down the big hill, turning already awkward small talk into painfully awkward small talk. Once on the bus, we kept sweating and both tried to take off our backpacks to relieve some of the sweat. We changed from bus to subway with me navigating, got off the subway where we were supposed to transfer to another bus, but I had read the Google Maps instructions wrong and was actually supposed to transfer to another train, so we had to tap back into the subway, costing us an extra 1,175 won. She took my phone out of my hand to help me with the instructions, an act so strangely intimate and scary that she did so easily. When we finally arrived at the store, we heaved again up a few flights of stairs before entering the tiny shop and holding our backpacks close to our chests so as to not accidentally swing and break anything. The whole affair was underscored by continually trying our hardest to chat like regular people. I had planned on just struggling through communicating with the staff using Google Translate, my limited Korean, and (hopefully) the staff's limited English, but as embarrassing as stumbling through basic interactions through a language barrier already was, it seemed particularly stupid to do with another person watching who spoke both languages. She helped me ask the staff questions, put my film order in, and buy a new lens cap by acting as translator, something that I usually had too much pride to ask of anyone except my very best friend. We parted ways without having ever gotten past small talk, and I can't remember a single interaction with her I had after that day.

I'm sure there are a thousand reasons that I remember this excursion so clearly despite its overall mundanity. It was terrible and awkward in every single sense. We were both clearly in minor distress the entire time, both physically and emotionally, yet neither of us cared enough about the other to really be able to do anything about it. If I had to put a name to what it was exactly that I felt was so important about this experience was that it was one of the very, very few times in my life where I did something with someone and truly did not give a single fuck about what they felt, what they thought about me, and what we were doing. As antithetical to the situation as these outcomes may seem, I really believe that I was truly comfortable for the first time with having absolutely no idea how something was going to turn out. It was a situation where I was extended grace and also extended my own grace in a weird, synergetic rapport that myself and this peer established where we were so terribly, terribly uncomfortable with each other, yet both entirely willing to be present and sit with the discomfort. How can I continue to orient myself to these types of exceedingly strange interactions? I find myself thinking back to this situation because I think I was taking myself seriously, something that doesn't come easily to me. Instead of laughing at the absurdity of this outing, or breaking the awkward silence by acknowledging it, I allowed it to be serious -- not in tone or mood perhaps, but in that I stopped myself from laughing it off, from overcompensating, from trying harder than I wanted to. Discomfort, in this roundabout way, is an entry point to attunement. How might I allow myself more grace to be uncomfortable?

What are some things that have made you uncomfortable recently? Have they been opportunities for reflection?

I really enjoyed writing this email, although it is definitely more of an exercise for me than for you. Let me know if this structure is something that inspires you too, and I'm happy to read whatever may come back my way. Otherwise, no pressure to reply. Hope all is well. Happy Thanksgiving.

With love,

Gabi

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star-scrambled · 2 years

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something that makes me feel such. an Emotion. is thinking about the One small piece of long term nostalgia that i do have with Sonic the Hedgehog

I only became a “real” Sonic fan after I watched the movie two years ago. Before that point, between 10-13, I’d occasionally check out Sonic stuff and consider that it could be something I could attach myself to, but I never fixated on it, so I carried on with my life. I didn’t immediately cling onto the Sonic franchise after the movie (though I did love the film a lot!) and experienced the same limbo I felt in my previous attempts to understand everything about this Thing. It took maybe 2 weeks of just NON STOP EXPOSURE to as much content as possible until I was plowing through the IDW comics with genuine concern for the cast during the Metal Virus saga, and I found a character I hyperfocused on and gained a better understanding of the lore, dynamics, and story from, Knuckles! :]

It’s not like I’ve only had Sonic in my life between 14 and now though! As a younger kid I was just never exposed to all the usual stuff that got people hooked onto it around my age, like the games, Sonic X or even fan content online. I was one of THOSE kids who watched a handful of Sonic Underground and knew the cast through the Olympic game crossovers. That isn’t to say I think I’m a FAKE FAN because I got into this a little later into my childhood than others, but I just think it’s interesting that my past kind of stopped me from feeling like it was something I could ever enjoy with the childlike wonder and enthusiasm it was intended to evoke, kind of like how some (including myself) feel like Pokémon is something you can’t get attached to if you never grew up enjoying it as a child.

But I have one batch of Sonic memories that feel a little more universal. When I was 6, me and my brother got a Wii handed down to us from an older cousin. It came with a bunch of games, both discs and pre-installed through the Shop channel, and one of those games was Sonic 2. I was pretty bad at the 2D Mario games my brother was SCARILY good at for a young kid (he literally 100% speedran the game on at least four save files), but when I found This game and tried my hand at it, I took pride into the fact that I was better at Sonic. I loved the animations, the characters (Tails definitely contributed to my love for orange cat/fox characters), and facing off with my brother at those weird 3D looking sphere-hallway stages.

Thing is: I was not good at Sonic 2 at all. I would get through Emerald Hill Zone and just barely through Chemical Plant Act 1, and that was it. Couldn’t get passed that point no matter how hard I tried. Maybe the drowning spooked me, or I just didn’t discover how to use all the controls. It was something that taunted me for the rest of my childhood, and even when I was 12-13 and getting back into video games did it still stump me. I haven’t tried my hand at it again in a long time, but tbh I think it’s something I’ll struggle at forever by this point lol

So basically the one powerful piece of Sonic nostalgia that tugs on my heart and makes me feel fuzzy the way that all the other stuff I experienced as a small child was jamming to the Chemical Plant Zone instrumental. Over and over again. And I mean, it’s a BOP, but it’s interesting that it’s the *one* Sonic thing that makes me feel like this. It made playing Chemical Plant in Mania something very surreal. And I completely doubt it’ll happen but. If I were to hear that instrumental in the new movie. I think I’d actually cry. And I can’t believe that I have at least One Sonic Thing that can make me feel the same way that those who grew up with Everything in the franchise at their fingertips would at the hands of the current STH2 hype. It’s strange, but really, really special. aooueuuegghh

#vics silly brain zone #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sth #i didn’t know where else to write this so idk hopefully someone likes the vic slash kwaz starscrambled lore

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marcherarrant · 3 years

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"On this day, March 1st 2021, Marcher Arrant sets off for his biggest walk yet...a thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail."Here we go!!! This is so surreal, I can't believe this is happening! I'm excited and nervous! This is so much more than a walk. Every walk I do is. It is my way of life, my art, my therapy, my source of meaning, ect. But this walk in particular is something even more. This walk is the crossing over of a threshold. It is a self created rite of passage, a new beginning. As a Walker my I embrace a philosophy of becoming, of constant movement, of no beginning or ending, constant flux. That being said, there are moments of being, moments when flowers bloom. I'm in love with shows and movies in which you see people become their destiny. It's perhaps a banal example but the first show that comes to mind is Better Call Saul. I watched that with such joy seeing him become the sleazy lawyer he was meant to become. I was destined to become this person I have always dreamt myself to be, Marcher Arrant. This walk is where I become him fully. I made a real life flag as a symbol of that. I was born a Walker. I began walking more than those around me when I was in 6th or 7th grade. And my love for it has continually grown through the years and there have been countless thresholds I've crossed that have been pivotal in marking me for my destiny. It was around middle school or early high school that I walked from my house to downtown Columbus, a 4 hour walk. I later walked there and back. Years later I walked the tracks from Boulder, Colorado to Denver, a twelve hour walk. I ended up doing that walk a lot. Eventually I walked to Denver and back, walking for more than 24 hours without stopping. Then I started doing aimless 24 hour walks all the time. I moved to Paris. From there I did my first long distance walk, a month-long trip from Paris to Rocessvelles, Spain. That opened up a whole new door. I then walked the entire length of every street in Paris. And on and on and on... so many walks. In Paris, maybe 10 years ago now, thanks to my homie Curve (@thecurvazoid, forever grateful) I began toying with graff, came up with my character and name. I later moved to Spain and did many more walks. For most of my life my walking was something personal that I did not share with anyone. I thought it romantic, beautiful and pure that my art was just for me. But then I had a health scare and it was then I got the urge to share what I do online. I felt I had something unique to offer the world and I did not want to die without sharing it. I am glad I did because doing so gave my life so much more meaning. I then got into making art and books and fell in love with that. 2 years ago I decided that before I did another big walk that I would catch my art up to my life and make books and art from all my previous walks so that when I did the next walk I could focus for the first time on making art and a book while I was doing the walk instead of going back and doing it after the fact. I finished all the art and books for my past walks. This is the first walk where everything comes together for the first time, the walk, the art, the book, the graffiti. Also over the last two years I decided to set up for myself work so that I will always have a job no matter where in the world I am so that I can walk with no pause. I began an online English teaching business. It was a long road to be able to get enough students so that I could make a living from it. I have finally gotten to the point where I am fully booked. I begin my dream life now, a sustainable life where through art and teaching English I can walk forever and take care of myself. My dream is to spend my life walking the world, alternating from long distance walks to living in new cities and fully exploring those, walking every street and painting and making art. This is a dream come true, my idiosyncratic idea of the perfect life, a life I will never tire of, one that suits who I am in the most perfect way. I am in love with the writer Nietzsche who philosophy was about making your life a work of art, living in a way that ties together all the aspects of you into a beautiful whole. The work I have done over the past few years with the walking, the graffiti, the English teaching, the art and books, the travel and how they have all tied together at this moment, with this walk, I have accomplished this goal of making my life a work of art and tying all the aspects of my life into a harmony. No matter what happens in my life now, I can die happy having accomplished this. For me, it is a sort of intangible form of art, my greatest accomplishment. It is so hard to figure out who you are and what you want when there is no precursor to it. I am so fucking proud of myself for believing in my strange vision despite the fact that until very recently it never gave me a cent, never did anything to advance my life or do anything for me besides the meaning it gave to me. It is so hard to keep doing something that seems to everyone around you, to society, to be utterly useless. You have to be brave and trust your vision.

The hardest part of any walk for me is getting to the starting point. I grew up pretty poor. When you grow up poor, at least for me, everything seems so out of reach. You have this unconscious feeling that you would never be able to do so many things. This is great because when you do those things your mind is just blown and you are so amazed and in disbelief and you don’t take it for granted in the slightest. I never in a million years thought I would be able to live in another country. I thought that was something rich people do which is totally untrue but that is just the kind of mentality you have when you grow up poor. When I moved to Europe it was surreal. Every single day, for the ten years I lived there, I was in total awe that I was there. I did not have a single boring day. Every single day I could not believe I lived there and that did not lessen a single minute bit the entire time I lived there. It is the same way I feel about doing long distance walks. I was so amazed by the idea of the Appalachian Trail when I was a kid. But I thought only rich people could do it. The fact that I am setting out to do it today is absolutely surreal. I am in total disbelief that I am doing it. I keep getting scared that somehow something is going to happen so that I can’t do it. I don’t take it for granted in the slightest that I get to do it. It literally feels like a miracle to me. And there are so many to thank for it. First I want to thank my mom and step dad who let me live at their house rent free while I worked on starting my online English teaching business and making barely any money. I never could have started my business without them and saved the money I have. I thank my grandma, my dad and step mom, my sisters, my brother and all my family who have helped me so much. Thank you so so so much to the people who have bought art, books, stickers from me over the past couple years, people who have given me donations, people who bought shirts, pins ect. I never could have done this walk without that support and I am eternally grateful and forever in your debt. I take none of that for granted. Thank you for all the kind words, messages and comments, you have no idea how much that has helped me to keep on. You have no idea. No fucking idea. I could kiss every last one of you. These past two years have been two of the hardest years of my life. For the past year I worked 7 days a week, waking up at 4:30am. For various reasons I went through some horrendous depression, so many suicidal thoughts. So many times I wanted to take the money I saved for this walk and check myself into a mental hospital. All the positive words from people really helped me to keep on. Thank you so much. Thank you to my crew, the Abe Lincoln Brigade, Impeach, Hank, and Alamo. I’m so grateful and honored to be in a crew with such legends, people who I’ve always idolized. Thanks again to Curve (@thecurvazoid) for giving me one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever been given, the gift of getting me creating art. And thank you to Art Primo (@artprimo ) for sponsoring this walk with art supplies. Not only does this help financially but the fact that such a legendary company believes in what I do enough to give me supplies is such an honor and so fucking encouraging.

There are two new things that I am doing with this walk. One, is that I will be making art with the guidebook pages as I do the walk. I have already made art with maps from my walks, but I did it after I did the walk. This is the first time I will be making art as I am actually doing the walk. I am so in love with this idea. And I love that when I send the art it will be from whatever town I am in along the walk. I think that makes the envelope itself kinda a piece of art. Selling art along the way will also make it so I spend the money for my trip at a slower rate and hopefully not end totally broke like I usually do. The second new thing I will be doing is making it so people can follow my walk online. I have a gps device that also tracks me and sends that information to a website. I think that’s kinda fun and cool. It also makes it so if you want to meet up and you see I’m near you you can reach out. A lot of people have offered me a place to stay or just meet up and I am so disorganized that It makes it hard to remember all the people and where they live. Hopefully this helps to make meeting up possible. You can follow my walk at share.garmin.com/marcherarrant. Again, thank you all for everything!

#marcherarrant #walking art #walking artist

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tainted-wine · 3 years

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Just gonna leave this here: a quirk that turns Hawks into an actual hawk version of himself that can talk, and his poor s/o must be his falconer until the quirk wears off. Alternatively, Dabi getting chibi’d. MANY LOLS TO BE HAD. And also burnt pants pockets, if I’m not mistaken.

If Hawks was a bird, I’d imagine his appearance would resemble a Brahminy Kite aka red-backed sea eagle. Yeah, I know they’re not exactly hawks but it’s such a perfect look for him. Though I’d imagine his front plumage to look more blonde than white.

The news reporters were already swarming him. At least give him a chance to breathe; this was probably more shocking to himself than it was to them. It’s also just a little intimidating to have so many people several times his height squatting down and shoving mics into his little beak.

“Did you see the villain that did this to you, Hawks?”

“How long will this quirk last?”

“Will you be able to carry on with hero work in this condition?”

“What do you have to say to your fangirls right now?”

“Would you be willing to have a photoshoot with us and promote our bird shop?”

He raises his wings (man, it’s weird when they’re your only upper limbs) and attempts to calm everyone down.

“Relax, everyone. I’ll have this all fixed up soon, I promise! And don’t think I’ll be taking a break from hero work just because I’m small enough to perch on your arm. You villains out there better stay put!”

The flashing cameras hurt. His eyes felt more sensitive than ever.

Of course, that was a bit of a lie. Hell no, he isn’t fighting any competent villain while he’s a literal bird, but he already knows that the Hero Commission isn’t going to let him sit back even while he looks like this.

-----------------

What the fuck were you watching.

A group of reporters were crowding a bird that had just hopped out of your lover’s hero outfit which was piled on the floor. And they were calling the bird Hawks.

And then the bird spoke. With Hawks’s voice.

No way.

A bit less than an hour after those surreal interviews, a rapping sound was heard at your window. Lo and behold, the same bird you’ve been looking at all over the Tweeter feed was waving at you as he waited patiently to be let in.

You didn’t know where to even start as he waddled in, unsteady on legs that bended in ways he wasn’t used to, and large talons that scratched every surface.

“Did ya miss me, baby bird?” Wow, he really just used his seductive voice.

Your discussion with him about what he plans to do while in his current form is as awkward as you expected, with one extra curve-ball thrown in.

Your face looms over his smaller head. “What do you mean you need me on your patrols? Patrols that you shouldn’t even be doing right now?”

He shakes and puffs up his feathers. “You’ll be my partner in crime! Well, more like you’ll be the one carrying my goods around and answering calls while I take down bad guys. And I have to make sure I always have a good takeoff spot, since I’m not as quick and limber of a flyer as I usually am. It’ll be safe, I promise.”

-----------------

It wasn’t very safe.

Sneaking up on a villain in a sketchy ally was not safe at all. Hawks was unknowingly digging his talons into your skin as he kept his body low, his wings only half-folded in case he needed to fly at any moment.

With a signaling squeeze (ouch), you swung your arm as he leapt off and flew toward the unassuming criminal.

It was...ridiculous, watching what was an intimidating man make high-pitched yelps of surprise and swat at the hawk flapping around his head. All respect as a villain is probably lost if you’re subdued by a bird that isn’t even half your size.

“Now!” Hawks shouted while he had the man’s arms pinned behind his back.

You rushed in to click the handcuffs around his wrists.

“That’s your third arrest, baby bird! You oughta try for a hero license!” He praised you with a wink.

“Thanks, but I’d rather have this entire fever dream end as soon as possible.”

His phone vibrated in your pocket and you withdrew it to see which sidekick or Commission member was calling him this time. Instead, a strange name popped up.

“Who is...‘Burnt Bitch’?”

Hawks swooped in and snatched the phone out of your hands before you could even blink.

“Aheheheh, sorry love! This is a personal call that I gotta take myself!” He flew out of your sight, leaving you to handle the humiliated and angry villain by yourself.

-----------------

Hawks swore when he scratched his screen as he attempted to answer the call. Dammit, Dabi sure was a master of contacting him at inconvenient times.

Having finally pressed the button, he gave his usual greeting to the fiery villain. “What’s up, Dabs?”

“So you’re a literal birdbrain right now, are you? Pretty hilarious.”

That...was not Dabi’s voice.

“Um, why do you sound like a chipmunk?”

“...I’m just using a voice changer,” the squeaky villain said. “I shouldn’t make myself too obvious when talking to you.”

Hawks scratched his head, flinching when he nearly poked his eye. “You’re just now deciding to do that, and you couldn’t pick a voice that I’d actually take seriously?”

“Like you’re one to talk. I’m impressed you managed to answer the phone without any hands. You’re meeting up with me at the usual spot tonight.”

“...Tonight?”

Dabi groaned, which sounded more like those low meows that angry cats do. “Did I stutter? Those holes in your bird head work, right? And you better not laugh when you get here.”

Click.

Hawks’s inner eyelids blinked rapidly at the phone. What would he laugh about?

-----------------

Oh.

That’s what.

Hawks rested on a trash can as he watched Dabi emerge from the shadows behind the abandoned building. He was pretty far away, his form slowly getting bigger as he got closer. Although...Hawks is pretty sure that he should look a lot bigger from that distance. Maybe the angle of his giant eyes was screwing up his depth perception.

It was only when Dabi was right in front of him did Hawks realize that the villain was the size of a toddler.

He tried not to let any laughter slip past his beak, and failed miserably.

“What did I fucking tell you?” Dabi growled in his helium voice. Oh god he wasn’t using a voice changer on the phone.

That made the bird hero laugh even harder, wings outstretched as he tried to keep his balance. “Wh-wha...” He struggled to speak between wheezes. “What the hell happened?”

Dabi shuffled in his kiddie hoodie. “Some dumbass thug thought it would be funny to chibify me. I thought it would be funny to turn him into ash, so I did.”

“Really? Do you know if it wears off overtime or did you just kill the poor guy without asking questions?”

“......”

“Holy shit!” Another fit of squawking laughter. “You might be adorable forever!”

A blue flame appeared in his tiny baby hands oh my god he’s so cute!

“Unlike you, I can still use my quirk, so keep talking if you want to become the fried chicken you love so much.”

"You-” Cough. “You don’t even need your fire.” Hawks's feathers were fully fluffed out as he tried to breathe. “If you keep talking with that high voice, I’m gonna keel over!”

A tiny scarred hand around his neck finally silenced him with a startled screech.

“You tweety little bastard.”

Hawks cracked up again as he choked.

-----------------

Shouta Aizawa has come across many strange sights during his late night patrols. Some of them gruesome, some of them obscene, and some that are just too weird to even be questioned.

Finding a child concealed in an oversized hoodie in a bout of fisticuffs with a bird of prey was in the third category.

He couldn’t even tell who was winning. The kid would sometimes get a hold of the bird for no more than a few seconds before a sharp beak digs into his hand and forces him to let go. It was the strangest wrestle that the underground hero had ever witnessed.

“Aww, try again, little baby! You almost had me that time!”

Wait a minute. That voice...

Right, Hawks was still doing work even though he was a damn actual hawk. Well, he probably doesn’t need his help with an unruly brat.

Aizawa walked away from the scuffle and continued his scouting. There are real dangers out here that need to be taken care of.

#asks #hawks #dabi #don't ask any logical questions #accept the crack

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path-of-my-childhood · 4 years

Text

How Aaron Dessner and Taylor Swift Stripped Down Her Sound on ‘Folklore’

By: Jon Blistein for Rolling Stone Date: July 24th 2020

At the beginning of March, the National’s Aaron Dessner traveled back to the United States from Paris, where he’d been living with his family, to shack up at Sonic Ranch Studio in Tornillo, Texas to work on the next Big Red Machine album with Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon. Those plans - obviously - soon shifted, as the reality of the COVID-19 pandemic set in. Dessner and his family were able to relocate to their home in upstate New York as lockdown orders went into effect, and the musician soon settled into a groove of homeschooling his kids and able to focus fully on music in a way he hadn’t in a while, due to the National’s regularly rigorous touring schedule.

In the middle of what Dessner describes as one of the most productive moments of his career, Taylor Swift called. A longtime and avowed fan of the National, Swift asked if Dessner wanted to try collaborating on a few songs remotely. He said of course, and asked if she was looking for anything in particular. He noted that he had plenty of material at the ready, but acknowledged he’d been in a more experimental mood, due to the Big Red Machine sessions; not to mention, Dessner added, he’d never really ventured into the pop world Swift has dominated for well over a decade. She told him to send everything he had.

“I think she was interested in the emotions that she feels in some of the music that I’ve made,” Dessner tells Rolling Stone.” So I just sent her a folder of things I’d done recently and was excited about. Hours after, she sent back a fully written version of ‘Cardigan.’ It was like a lightning bolt struck the house.”

Over the next few months, Dessner and Swift crafted the bulk of Swift’s eighth studio album, Folklore. Dessner spoke with Rolling Stone about working with Swift, their instant chemistry, how the album developed under a thick cloud of secrecy and more.

When Taylor first reached out, did she have a specific vision in mind for the album? She was a bit cryptic. I didn’t know that we were actually working on a record for quite a while. It just seemed that she was seeking me out to collaborate. And then we were both feeling very inspired by it. Once there were six or seven songs that we had written over a couple of weeks, she said, “Hey can we talk?” Then she said, ‘This is what I’m imagining,’ and started to tell me about the concept of Folklore. Then she mentioned that she’d written some songs at an earlier stage with Jack [Antonoff], and they felt like they really fit together with what we were doing. It was a very inspiring, exhilarating collaborative process that was almost entirely remote. Very sort of warp speed, but also something about it felt like we were going toe-to-toe and in a good pocket.

After “Cardigan,” how did these songs develop and do you think she pushed you in any new directions as a songwriter? When you’re working with someone new, it takes a second to understand their instincts and range. It’s not really conscious. She wrote “Cardigan,” and then “Seven,” then “Peace.” They kind of set a road map, because “Cardigan” was this kind of experimental ballad, the closest thing to a pop song on the record, but it’s not really. It’s this emotional thing, but it has some strange sounds in it. “Seven” is this kind of nostalgic, emotional folk song. Even before she sang to it, I felt this nostalgia, wistful feeling in it, and I think that’s what she gravitated towards. And “Peace,” that just showed me the incredible versatility that she had. That song is just three harmonized bass lines and a pulse. I love to play bass like that - play one line then harmonize another, and another, which is a behavior I stole from Justin Vernon, because he’s done that on other things we’ve done together. And actually, that’s his pulse, he sent me that pulse and said, “Do something with this.” But when she wrote that song, which kind of reminds me of a Joni Mitchell song over a harmonized bassline and a pulse, that was kind of like, “Woah, anything can happen here.” That’s not easy to do.

So, in the morning I would wake up and try to be productive. “Mad Woman” is one I wrote shortly after that, in terms of sound world, felt very related to “Cardigan” and “Seven.” I do have a way of playing piano where it’s very melodic and emotional, but then often it’s great if whoever’s singing doesn’t sing exactly what’s in the piano melody, but maybe it’s connected in some way. There was just some chemistry happening with her and how she was relating to those ideas.

“Epiphany” was something she had an idea for, and then I imagined these glacial, Icelandic sounds with distended chords and this almost classical feeling. That was another one where we wrote it and conceived it together. She just has a very instinctive and sharp musical mind, and she was able to compose so closely to what I was presenting. What I was doing was clicking for her. It was exhilarating for us, and it was surreal - we were shocked by it, to be honest [Laughs]. I think the warmth, humanity and raw energy of her vocals, and her writing on this record, from the very first voice memos - it was all there.

Do you think that chemistry might’ve had something to do with her being a National fan, and you being a fan of her music? We met Taylor at Saturday Night Live in 2014, or whenever that was that we played and Lena Dunham was hosting. We got to meet her, and that was our first brush with a bona fide pop star. But then she came to see us play in Brooklyn last summer and was there in a crazy rainstorm, like torrential downpour, and watched the whole show and stayed for a long time afterwards, talking to me and my brother. She was incredibly charming and humble. That’s the nice thing about her, and a lot of people I’ve met that have that kind of celebrity. It’s great when you can just tune it out and be normal people and chat, and that’s how that felt. So, we knew that she was a big fan, and we really got into the 1989 album. Our Icelandic collaborator, Ragnar Kjartansson, is a crazy Swiftie. So we’ve kind of lived vicariously through him. I’ve always been astonished by how masterful she is in her craft. I’ve always listened to her albums and put them in this rarefied category, like, “How did she do that? How does anybody do that? How do you make ‘Blank Space?’” There was an element that was intimidating at first, where it just took me a second to be like… Not because I think her music is better than what we’ve done, but it’s just a different world.

Were there particular songs, albums or artists the two of you discussed as reference points for this album? “Betty,” which is a song she wrote with William Bowery, she was interested in sort of early Bob Dylan, like Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, I think. “Epiphany,” early on, felt like some weird Kate Bush-meets-Peter Gabriel thing. I think we talked a little about those things, but not a lot. Actually, I think she really trusted me as far as my instincts to where the music would ultimately go, and also the mixing process. We really wanted to keep her voice as human, and kind of the opposite of plastic, as possible. That was a bit of a battle. Because everything in pop music tends to be very carved out, a smiley face, and as pushed as possible so that it translates to the radio or wherever you hear it. That can also happen with a National song - like if you changed how these things are mixed, they wouldn’t feel like the same song. And she was really trusting and heard it herself. She would make those calls herself, also.

You mentioned William Bowery - who is he? He’s a songwriter, and actually because of social distancing, I’ve never met him. He actually wrote the original idea for “Exile,” and then Taylor took it and ran with it. I don’t actually know to be totally honest.

We’ve been trying to track him down, he doesn’t have much of an internet presence. Yeah, I don’t fully know him, other than he wrote “Betty” and “Exile” with her. But you know she’s a very collaborative person, so it was probably some songwriter.

So it’s not an alias for anyone? No, no, no. I mean, I don’t know - she didn’t tell me there was a “Cardigan” video until literally it came out, and I wrote the song with her [laughs]. So I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure he’s an actual songwriter. She enjoys little mysteries.

With the National, you and your brother write the music, Matt Berninger adds the lyrics, and then you fuse it - was it a similar process on Folklore? Taylor is very collaborative in that sense that, whenever she sent a voice memo, she would send all the lyrics and then ask me what I thought. And sometimes we would debate certain lines, although generally she’s obviously a strong writer. So she would ask me if I liked one line, and she would give me alternate lines and I would give her my opinion. And then when she was actually tracking vocals, I would sometimes suggest things or miss things, but she definitely has a lot of respect for the collaborative process and wants whoever she’s writing with to feel deeply included in that process. It was nice, and was a back and forth, for sure. And she would sometimes have ideas about the production if she didn’t like something, especially. She would, in a tactful way, bring that up. I appreciated that, too, since I wanted to try to turn over every leaf, take risks and sometimes get it wrong. That always takes a second, to get over and then you start again.

You mentioned earlier that once you had six, seven songs, she was able to describe a concept behind the album. I’m curious what that conversation was like. She would always explain what each song was about to me, even before she articulated the Folklore concept. And I could tell early on that they were these narrative songs, often told from a different… not in the first person. So there are different characters in the songs that appear in others. You may have a character in “Betty” that’s also related to one in “Cardigan,” for example. And I think that was, in her mind, very, very important. It doesn’t seem like, for this record at least, that she was inspired to write something until she really knew what it was about. And I think I’m used to a more - at least lately - impressionistic and experimental world of making stuff without really knowing what it is. But this was more direct, in that sense. That was really helpful, to know what it was about and it would guide some of the choices we were making.

Every time she would send something, she would narrate a little bit, like how it fit, or what it was about. And then when she told me about Folklore as a concept, it made so much sense. Like “The Last Great American Dynasty,” for example, this kind of narrative song that then becomes personal at the end - it flips and she enters the song. These are kind of these folkloric, almost mythical tales that are woven in of childhood, lost love, and different sentiments across the record. It was binding it all together and I think it’s personal, but also through the guise of other people, friends and loved ones.

You were working in secret - how did that affect the process? Was that a difficult burden? It was. I was humbled and honored and grateful for the opportunity and for the crazy sort of alchemy we were having. But it was hard not to be able to talk openly with my usual collaborators, even my brother at first. I didn’t know if I could really tell him, because we normally… Ultimately, he helped me quite a bit, he orchestrated songs. But we always help each other. But eventually, we figured out how to do it. Towards the end of the process, I said to Taylor, ‘I really feel that I need to try a few experiment and try to elevate a few moments on the record because we have time, and we’ve really done a ton of work here, and it all sounds great, but I think we can go even further.’ And then she said, ‘Well what does that mean?’ And I explained how that would work, and the way that we work. Our process is very community-oriented, and we have long-time collaborators that we have a good understanding with. So I was able to say, to my friends, ‘This is a song I’m working on, I can’t send it to you with the vocals, and I can’t tell you what it is, but I can explain what I’m imagining.’ And the same with my brother, he knows my music so well that that was very easy for him to just take things that we were working on, add to that, and do his kind of work. So it was all remote and everyone was in their corner and we were shipping things around. It was incredibly fast because of that, because you didn’t have eight people needing to come to the studio. You had eight people working simultaneously - one in France and one in L.A. and one in Brooklyn. This is how it went, and it was fun. We got there.

When were you able to tell everyone who contributed that this was the Taylor Swift record, what was their reaction? You can imagine. I think they realized it was something big because [of] the confidentiality, and they were like, ‘It could only be a few things.’ I couldn’t tell them until, basically, when she announced it. Just in the moments after she announced it, I basically told everyone. I was like, ‘By the way…’ And they were thrilled. Everyone’s thrilled. Nobody seemed mad, everyone was thrilled and honored. Even Justin Vernon had not heard anything else except “Exile,” even though the pulse of that song “Peace,” he gave that song to me. It was important to have it be a surprise, and you know how it can be with someone in her position, with all the speculation, and she’s always under a lot of pressure like that. So it was really important to the creative freedom she was feeling that this remained a secret, so she could just do what we were doing.

Being such longtime friends and collaborators with Justin, what was it like hearing “Exile” for the first time? His voice and Taylor’s together? He’s so versatile and has such a crazy range, and puts so much emotion… Every time he sings when I’m in his presence, my head just kind of hits the back of the wall. That’s the same on this song. William Bowery and Taylor wrote that song together, got it to a certain point, then I sort of interpreted it and developed a recording of it, and then Taylor tracked both the male and female parts. And then we sent it to Justin and he re-did obviously the male parts and changed a few things and also added his own: He wrote the “step right out” part of the bridge, and Taylor re-sang to that. You feel like, in a weird way, you’re watching two of the greatest songwriters and vocalists of our generation collaborating. I was facilitating it and making it happen, and playing all the music. But it was definitely a “Wow.” I was just a fan at that point, seeing it happen.

Are there any moments that really stick out to you as particularly pivotal in shaping the sound of this record? The initial response. When we first connected, and I sent a folder of music and Taylor wrote “Cardigan,” and she said, “This is abnormal. Why do you have all these songs that are so emotional and so moving to me? This feels fated.” And then she just dove into it and embraced this emotional current. And I hope that’s what people take out of it: The humanity in her writing and melodies. It’s a different side to her. She could have been every bit as successful just making these kinds of songs, but it’s so great that she’s also made everything that she’s ever made, and this is a really interesting shift, and an emotional one. It also opens other doors, because now it’s kind of like she can go wherever she wants, creatively. The pressure to make a certain kind of… bop - or whatever you want to call it - is not there really anymore. And I think that’s really liberating, and I hope her fans and the world are excited by that because I am. It’s really special.

#Aaron Dessner #interview #about taylor #taylor swift #Rolling Stone magazine #folklore album #folklore era #songwriter #coronavirus #release week

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mcwriting · 4 years

Text

Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night!

In which the reader is the musical guest at Saturday Night Live the same week Tom Holland is hosting.

Ship: Reader x Tom Holland

Word Count: 5747 (what in the heck?? my longest piece ever lol)

Warnings: Mild alcohol consumption

Rating: K

Preface: I mention the NBC page program, which is like an intense internship/fellowship with the company where college grads work with at least 3 parts of the company over a year to get job exposure. A lot of famous actors and actresses were pages!

***

Walking into 30 Rockefeller Center on Wednesday afternoon was a surreal experience for sure. As a young NBC page led you through hallways and up to studio 8H, you were getting butterflies.

On one side of the hall was a sign for studio 8G, which hosted Late Night with Seth Meyers, but the page turned the other way, guiding you through doors to the Saturday Night Live studio.

There was hustle and bustle all around you as she took you to your green room, which had a sign printed with your name on it over an NYC skyline. You almost pinched yourself.

You had known for about a month that you’d be performing as the musical guest for SNL the upcoming weekend, but now that you were here for your first rehearsal, things were getting real.

When your manager had asked if you wanted to play the show, she’d been met by your enthusiastic “YES! Are you kidding me?!” It was even better when she mentioned who the host would be:

Tom Holland.

You’d watched every season of SNL since you were probably in middle school. You could easily name off every cast member but would have to remember to keep your cool until after Saturday.

Another thing you’d need to stay cool about was Spiderman himself. You had the biggest crush on him, but who your age didn’t? He was charming and British, disregarding physical features. You were most nervous to meet him.

The page let you put your things down and took you to Lorne Michael’s office where he and some of the production team wanted to talk to you about your set. You’d only get two songs, but one of the writers also asked if you’d want to be in a couple sketches, too.

Later that evening would be the normal pitch meeting, where writers who’d spent all Tuesday afternoon and night into the early hours of Wednesday writing finally got to show the host and cast their ideas. They’d narrow it down to eight, so you were surprised they wanted you in not one, but two sketches.

It wasn’t difficult to say yes to that. You wouldn’t be present for the pitch meeting, however, because in just a few short hours you’d be heading down to studio 6B to film a segment for Jimmy Fallon’s show.

Your management team stayed behind at the hotel to work on details for a couple concerts you had and were planning to head up to the studio before your interview.

After the meeting, you were shown around to familiarize yourself with the studio and stage before starting your first rehearsal. For one song, it would be just you and a piano, but the other song would have a band playing while you sang and did some limited choreography.

You sat in front of the keys of a beautiful grand piano, stretching your fingers. Someone requested you play one of your songs, so you looked around, as if asking for permission. Everyone in the room nodded for you to play, so you began the tune of your favorite song from your album.

Your voice wasn’t warm and there wasn’t a mic on you, but you got lost in the lyrics and chords like you always did. By the song’s end, you’d drawn a small crowd. They clapped and you blushed when you finished, closing the lid and standing to do a sheepish curtsy.

Most of the small crowd dissipated and you were talking to some crew about stage setup when someone interrupted you.

“Sorry to bother, but that was incredible. Can’t wait to hear how good you’ll be this weekend,” said a male voice with a distinct London accent. You turned to find Tom Holland right in front of you.

“Oh, well, thank you! I- I uh, didn’t expect to meet you so soon,” you stuttered, thrusting out a hand. “Y/n y/l/n.”

He gripped your hand firmly and shook it, nodding his head once, too.

“Tom Holland. You know I was excited when I heard you’d be performing the same week I host. The last film I did, we listened to your music like, all the time. You could say I’m a fan.”

Was this real? Tom Holland was a fan of you!? You chuckled.

“I could definitely say the same for you. I love your movies. ‘Been a fan for years.”

You both smiled happily and Tom was about to respond when the page who’d been showing you around the whole time came up.

“Sorry to interrupt, but Miss y/l/n, they’ve asked to get your measurements in costuming if that’s okay.”

“Oh! Yes of course!” you said to her, then turned to Tom. “Sorry. It was nice meeting you! See you around?”

“Of course! Nice meeting you also!”

As the young girl led you away again, you missed where a younger brother of Tom said to him,

“Think you’re in love yet?”

***

After an eventful visit at the Tonight Show that included you and Jimmy playing box of lies and performing one of your songs for the audience, you headed back up to 8H alone.

You’d remembered leaving something in your dressing room and had let your team go on back to the hotel without you. You’d felt confident that you could sneak back to your hotel safely without causing a big ruckus. It was only a few blocks away.

You were digging in your bag for your phone when you bumped into someone. Each of you said a quick “oh, sorry!” before looking to see who the other was.

It was Tom again.

You hadn’t realized before, but his room was the one right next to yours. It made sense, both of you being guests and all, but you were still caught off guard.

“Headed out?” he asked. You felt yourself blushing a little.

“Yeah, well. I just finished at Fallon’s and they don’t need me back here until tomorrow so I’m heading back to my hotel to order pizza for my whole team and then crash,” you laughed.

“Oh yeah? That sounds about like what we’re doing,” Tom gestured back to his brother and best friend, who you shook hands with gladly.

You talked as you wound through the halls and quickly realized you were all staying at the same place.

“That’s crazy! We were just going to get a cab if you want to just come with us. I’m already paying for it, so...” he offered. You were surprised.

“What? No, no, I couldn’t just ride on your coattails like that,” you started.

“No seriously, y/n. It’s fine! We’re literally all going to the same place and no one can bother us from a taxi cab. You don’t even have to talk to us if you don’t want to.”

You looked at the other two boys questioningly and they nodded, encouragingly nodding for you to accept the offer.

“Okay, okay! If all of you are fine with it, I’ll come.”

They cheered and you continued in happy conversation as you headed downstairs. A doorman called a cab for you and you piled in. Harry took the front and you offered to take the middle, sandwiched between Harrison and Tom.

Never in a million years had you expected to be in such close proximity to one, much less all, of them. It was a short drive and the driver took you to a back entrance, the place celebrities usually entered.

You still weren’t quite used to the star life. Up until you’d hit it big, it was normal for you to do pretty much everything yourself and stay in relatively cheap hotels like any other person.

Now, your management team handled most things and you were staying in five star places with secret celebrity entrances and prices that would probably make your grandmother faint.

Inside, you’d also realized you were on the same floor, both of you staying in large suites used by many elites over the years. You parted ways, anticipating seeing each other in the morning for rehearsals and later that evening when you’d be doing Seth Meyers’ show together.

***

The studio was buzzing when you entered Thursday morning. Your small team headed straight for the dressing room as you were taken away to a sketch read. Both sketches the writers had asked you about had been greenlit, so you were excited to work on them

“Morning, y/n. How was the pizza?” Tom asked cheekily when you first walked in. A couple of people passing by gave strange looks but said nothing.

“Well, who doesn’t love a good New York slice, huh? I’d say it was pretty darn good. And you?”

“We ended up getting room service, but pizza’s definitely next on my list,” he joked before you were handed scripts and asked to review them. The writers and cast were trying to figure out some basic spacing as you looked over your lines and cues.

You finally got to work rehearsing the two sketches. You broke a couple times when Kate landed a punchline and when Beck accidentally tripped.

When they decided to move on from those, you where whisked away to wardrobe and makeup to shoot "bumper” stills and videos, the photos and clips between sketches and commercial breaks.

You were excited to see how they envisioned your style and personality and would bring it to life. The photographer collaborated with you and shot some really incredible photos, both serious and goofy.

Next you were back in music rehearsals figuring out more about the staging and running some diagnostic sound checks. Once lunchtime came around, your stomach was growling.

You just barely caught Tom as you went for lunch, he was finishing up as you built your plate. As it always seemed, you only got a few words in with each other before someone was dragging Tom off for his own photoshoot.

You got to talk to Harry and Harrison for a little bit, too, until your manager asked to have a quick meeting about your schedule. Once you were free, you were taken to costuming to try a few things on and figure out hair styles that would fit the show.

There were more music rehearsals and you read the new scripts (as they had already been rewritten twice now). You were pretty tired by the time someone asked you to head across the hall to prepare for Late Night.

You grabbed a quick bite to eat on your way out of 8H and finished is by the time you were in the doors of 8G and a page led you to your green room, once again located next to Tom’s.

Since you were both doing SNL together, you and Tom were going to be interviewed together, but you also had the added bonus of being the musical guest again.

You only needed to rehearse a couple times to get the sound down (it’s not like it’s live, so you could easily restart if something went wrong). Once you were finished, they brought in the studio audience and you got a chance to go back to your green room and chill for a little while.

Seth had a couple other guests, so while you were waiting, you knocked on Tom’s door to greet him and discuss the talking points each of your management had given Seth.

As the in-house band was warming up, Seth came into the room.

“Well I didn’t expect to see both of you in here,” he joked, shaking both of you hands. Tom had been on the show before, but this was your first time meeting the host.

After a couple minutes, Seth was informed of the time and made his leave, going out to meet his audience and begin taping. After his monologue and the first guest, you and Tom were called to the stage.

“Now for our nexts guests we have both the host and musical guest of this weekend’s Saturday Night Live, Tom Holland and y/n y/l/n! Come on out here!”

Tom gestured for you to go ahead of him, so you walked out, waving to the cheering crowd. You took the seat nearest to Seth’s desk.

“Well hello, there. Good to see you two,” he greeted as you settled in. “Welcome back, Tom, and welcome for the first time, y/n.”

“Wait this is your first time here?” Tom asked incredulously. You laughed.

“Yeah! Up until a few months ago like, no one knew who I was. Not even Seth!” you poked right back. Seth jokingly agreed.

The interview went well, both of you telling some funny stories and explaining how the week was going. Finally, you cut for a commercial.

“Alright we’ll return with y/n and Tom after this short break!”

You were right back to the interview after the commercial “break.” Towards the end of it, you all got off on the subject of alcohol.

“You are 21, right?” Tom asked you. You rolled your eyes and gave an exaggerated hair flip.

“Yes, I am of the legal age. You should know as well as anyone what it’s like to have a baby face,” you roasted, causing the audience to go “ohh!” and Tom and Seth to raise their eyebrows.

“Wow looks like we’ve got a little rivalry now. The real question is who can handle their alcohol better. I think we oughta bring you two back for my day drinking segment to settle this!”

Both of you overconfidently pointed at yourselves when Seth asked who was better with alcohol.

“Now that’s an idea I can get behind!” you exclaimed before the interview finally wrapped up and you got ready to go sing. Tom and Seth stayed at the desk while you performed, which thankfully only took one shot.

As you wrapped up the show, you gave final waves to the audience and then headed offstage. You and Tom walked through the halls together and Seth caught up with you after finishing his outro.

He thanked you both for being on the show, you took a few pictures, then talked for a while. Seth was eventually called away to look at something, so you said your goodbyes to him and continued towards the green rooms.

“You were great tonight. Your voice is phenomenal,” Tom said to you. “and honestly I can’t believe you haven’t been doing talkshows that long. You’re a natural.”

“I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I love to talk about myself,” you quipped. “But seriously, thank you. Everything leading up to now has happened so fast, it’s hard to really gauge if things are going well or not.”

“I can relate to that. It’s hard, but having my family and brothers helps keep me grounded, you know? Harrison, too. They know that they can call me out and, yeah, I might get mad at first, but I understand that they’re keeping me from getting a big head.”

“Yeah I can’t imagine how overnight it must have been for you. My family and friends definitely don’t miss the chance to poke a little fun here and there to keep my ego down, too. You know, it’s nice talking to someone who understands for once. I love them, but unfortunately they’ll never fully get what it’s like, but you do,” you smiled.

You talked a little more, then spilt off to actually go to get ready to leave the building for the night. The upcoming Friday was going to be a long one.

Once again, you let your manager and assistant and everyone leave ahead of you. Regardless of whether you would hitch a ride with Tom again, you could find your way around easily.

You waited by the door until you heard their voices nearing and the boys came into the hallway.

“Oh y/n, you’re still here, too,” Harry said.

“Yeah, I was trying to decide what to do for dinner tonight before I head back to the hotel.”

“Well we’re going to grab some pizza if you want to join us,” Harrison offered happily, causing Tom to look at him funny.

“Y/n probably doesn’t want to be bothered by us all day every day and plus, she had pizza last night, I’m sure she doesn’t want it again. Sorry, y/n, don’t feel pressured by this div,” Tom said apologetically.

“Honestly, I could eat pizza everyday, so that’s not an issue, and I honestly love hanging out with you guys. You remind me of my friends back home. If y’all want to eat together, I seriously would not mind.”

“Really?” Tom asked incredulously, then recomposed himself. “Well, yeah, sure. We were gonna head back to the hotel to change clothes and then figure things out from there, is that okay?”

“That sounds perfect, except I’m paying the cab fare this time.”

***

In most situations, a group of guys you’d only known a couple of days asking you into their hotel room would be a major red flag, and it probably still should have been, but you threw caution to the wind and went to Tom’s suite anyways.

Harry answered the door and let you in, and inside you found Tom and Harrison on the floor of the living space drinking beers. They both raised their cans up to you as you came in.

All three of the boys were in simple sweats and t-shirts, similar to you in your leggings and sweatshirt. It wasn’t much later that Harry went to the lobby to retrieve the pizzas they’d ordered and you were all digging in, seated around the coffee table talking.

You all discussed random things, poking fun at each other like you were old friends. It was like they’d already accepted you as one of their own.

“How you think this weekend’s gonna go, y/n?” Tom asked between swigs of his ale.

“I’d say pretty good. I’m hella nervous though. SNL is like its own universe.”

“You can say that again. This is like nothing I’ve ever done before.”

“Oh, come on. You two are both going to do great Saturday. Don’t think too much about it and just have fun,” Harrison encouraged as you continued eating.

Throughout the evening, you couldn’t help but pick up on the way you and Tom kept making eye contact. It was brief, but it was different than how you and Harry or Harrison looked at each other. There was something else there.

Your stomach fluttered. Who else could say that they spent an evening drinking with their biggest celebrity crush? And then continually exchange flirty looks?

At one point Tom even tossed a wink at you after cracking a joke, causing your heartbeat to quicken momentarily.

After getting lost in conversation with the boys, you realized the time and prepared to excuse yourself back to your own room. The coming morning was going to be an early one, after all.

“Oh man, I better head out. We’ve got a long day ahead of us,” you commented, stretching as you stood up. The boys followed suit.

“Wow I didn’t even realize how long we’ve been sitting here,” Tom added.

“Yeah. Thanks again for letting me come over tonight. I haven’t gotten to do something like this in a while so it’s nice to just spend time with people who I don’t pay to hang around me all day, you know?”

“I understand and definitely can agree, since these divs are kind of paid to hang around me.”

You all laughed as Tom walked you to the door.

“Well. See you bright and early...” you trailed.

“Yeah, see you then,” Tom answered, awkwardly sticking out his arms for a hug. You obliged, squeezing your arms around his neck as his held your waist.

And goodness did he give good hugs.

***

You were definitely tired walking into 8H Friday morning. The caffeinated drink in hand helped a little, but late night beers paired with waking up early didn’t quite go hand in hand.

It wasn’t really a hangover either, since you hadn’t been fully drunk, but it didn’t help the exhaustion from traveling, working the past two days, and a lack of sleep.

The first thing you had to do was rehearse your songs for Saturday as the set team worked on transporting and putting together large set pieces that had been made at the navy yard in Brooklyn.

Tom and the cast weren’t far away, figuring the live show with costuming and quick changes along with doing some pre-filmed sketches. The writers were continually making adjustments and figuring out how things would be done.

They eventually called you over, too, to rehearse your sketches and film one of them. You had to get used to the costumes and cue cards and blocking of each. There had been some minor changes as well, so you had to be quick on your feet.

By lunchtime, all the cast took a well deserved break to sit and have a bite. The writers were having to shuffle around while they tried to eat as you and Tom sat down to talk some more.

“Hey, sorry to bug you, but do you guys mind if I take a picture or two for the SNL social media accounts?” a page asked while you were munching on sandwiches.

You and Tom looked at each other and shrugged.

“Fine with me,” you answered, Tom giving a similar reply. The two of you leaned in next to each other, holding up your sandwiches and laughing.

A few photos were snapped and you and Tom approved of them to be posted online. You thought nothing of it as you went to more rehearsals, working through the show’s order and trying to get down timing before Saturday’s dress rehearsal and show.

You couldn’t help but laugh watching the sketches, as this was your first time seeing the ones you weren’t a part of. Tom’s comedic timing and dry British humor paired well with the material he was given.

When the day came to an end, you were looking through instagram and gathering your things. You went to SNL’s page and put the post of you and Tom together onto your story, adding the text “Can’t wait for everyone to see my favorite sandwich partner host the show tomorrow!”

As before, you thought nothing of it and posted the story, heading out the door to ride back with Tom and the boys.

***

At the hotel, you and Tom had decided to not hang out for the evening since you’d be having a late, late night Saturday and wanted to get some sleep. You opened up social media as you laid in bed to wind down.

You decided to look at the picture of you and Tom from lunch again and read some comments, hoping there would be some funny ones and whatnot.

Instead, you found hundreds of comments saying “omg ship” and “my two faves together” and “this couple would be everything!!”

You were honestly shocked to see people saying that about you, especially since you had never heard of your fans indicating that they wanted to see you two together.

Twitter was also buzzing over you and Tom’s picture, some fan pages just talking about either one of you, while others also talked about shipping you.

In your heart, you kind of enjoyed it, since you were hardcore crushing on Tom now, but you had no idea how he felt.

Did he like you back? Did he just think of you as just a friend or acquaintance? Was he secretly dating someone and you were just reading too much into it?

It was much to think about, so instead you closed your phone and fell into a deep slumber.

***

You didn’t have to be in the studio as early as the past days since dress rehearsal wasn’t until 8pm and the show started at 11:30. You felt better rested than the day before, but butterflies were constantly erupting in your stomach.

You and Tom caught each other at the building’s entrance and went up the elevators together.

“Ready for tonight?” you asked, tapping a foot anxiously.

“Absolutely not. You?”

“Same here. Not only is it going to be watched by millions, but some of the most important people in my life are coming and I’m freaking out a little.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked softly. “And who would that be?”

“Well, my parents and some friends from home. I can sing in front of sold out stadiums but I still get nervous if I know they’re in a crowd. It’s stupid, I know.”

“No I totally get it. My parents and brothers will all be here, too, and my heart races when they watch my work. The best advice ever given to me, though was ‘turn nerves into excitement,’ and that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”

You nodded and smiled up at him.

“That is pretty good. Thanks,” you replied as the elevator doors opened.

The halls were bustling with what seemed like every employee as you headed to your green room. It wasn’t long before you were being thrown updated scripts and rehearsing again.

Finally as dusk turned to night, the dress rehearsal audience seats began filling up. You were bouncing nervously in the hall as you watched the cast begin the cold open on a monitor.

“Nervous?” a male voice asked quietly next to you. It was Tom, of course. You bobbed your head from side to side.

“Excited,” you replied cheekily. He smiled and was about to say something else when a crew member came by to lead him to his starting place for the monologue. He gave a quick wave before heading backstage, instead.

The dress rehearsal went okay, certain jokes and lines being cut and rearranged by the end for time. Thankfully the audience received everything well, for the most part.

Your own music and sketches felt like a rush, but you were proud. Tom’s advice had really gotten to you, because you were bubbling with excited anticipation for 11:30 broadcast to begin.

There was about an hour between dress and the actual taping, so you scarfed down a few bites of food and tried to shake out some jitters. You also sipped some caffeinated hot tea and did vocal runs to stay in tip top shape.

Your friends and family stopped by the green room to say hi before they joined the audience, giving you hugs and encouragement for the evening ahead.

As the clock neared 11:30, you were walking down a hall already dressed for your first song when you almost bumped into Tom.

“Oh, hey! Great job at dress! You’re gonna do amazing,” you immediately said, making him beam.

“Thank you! And you too! Your voice is on fire tonight, as if it’s ever not.”

“You haven’t heard me try to sing sick, then. I sound like a diseased animal.” You shook your hands and head to dismiss yourself. “But, uh, earlier I was gonna tell you ‘break a leg’ and then I remembered you used to dance, sooo... merde.”

Tom raised his brows and chuckled.

“You know that phrase too?” You nodded. “Well then merde to you, too. Oh, and I was wanting to ask if tonig-”

Tom was cut off by someone once again needing to drag him away to prepare for the show, causing you both to toss waves at each other again. Maybe he’d finish his thought later.

This was it. The real deal.

You took that as a cue to find your place by the monitors until after Tom’s monologue and the commercial break, when you’d start moving to stand with the band.

The cold open landed well, and you felt chills hearing two of the cast yell,

“And live from New York, IT’S SATURDAY NIGHT!”

The classic jazz music of SNL played over the intro and Tom made his way down the iconic steps to do his monologue.

Your heart fluttered seeing him stand on that stage with a wide smile, waving at the crowd. He was dressed in a blue suit and his curls were styled just right. He looked incredible.

The monologue landed well and you felt an even bigger flutter as you heard Tom lead into commercial, saying the iconic line,

“We have a great show for you tonight! Y/n Y/l/n is here! So stick around we’ll be right back!”

With that the camera panned out and cut, and chaos began as the crew moved everyone to set the first live sketch. In the meantime, a prefilmed sketch played, the one you had participated in.

The audience cheered and laughed at your surprise appearance in the sketch, which made you feel really good. You had moved now to a place where you could see the stage in person.

The camera panned in as the audience applauded and the next sketch began. Even after having seen it multiple times that week, you couldn’t help but laugh as the ridiculous character Tom played so well.

When they cut to another commercial break, it was your time to get ready to sing the first song.

Your stomach fluttered like it always did before a show, but Tom shot you a thumbs up before the break ended and boosted your confidence. A camera was pointed in his face as he calmly said,

“Ladies and gentlemen, y/n y/l/n,” as he gestured towards you.

The lights came up and you began playing, and you became lost in the music like always. It came and ended quickly, and suddenly you were listening to the cheers of the audience. You waved and bowed in thanks as the cameras panned again.

Up came the weekend update, your favorite part of any Saturday Night Live. The jokes for the segment were typically written on Saturday, so many of them were new to you.

Tom came and stood next to you during the update with a bowl-cut red wig dressed in khakis and a sweater vest over a button up. You looked him up and down amused.

“Your performance was amazing,” he whispered.

“Thanks. You’re doing great out there. They love you,” you whispered back.

“I sure hope so. Hey I’ve been trying to ask if-” he started, but then was cut off by someone grabbing him and leading him towards stage for the next sketch. Your stomach fluttered again.

What could he possibly want to ask me?

The live sketch transitioned into a prefilm and then you were up again, this song was more energetic and included some choreography, and you felt confident in the shimmering gold bodysuit and boots you were wearing.

You happily danced and sung after Tom reintroduced you to the crowd and got a large round of applause. There was only one sketch left of the show and you were in it, so the team rushed you into a quickchange booth offstage to put on your costume and a quick wig.

The sketch began and you stood to the side nervously. When your cue came, you burst onto the stage clumsily, as directed by the script. Your character made some inappropriate comments to Tom’s which garnered you many laughs again.

It was satisfying.

Once the sketch ended, all that was left were the goodnights, so you were again rushed off to change into a cute jumpsuit and reaffix your hair. Tom came out in a blue suit with the jacket unbuttoned, a black tee underneath.

You rushed to take your place next to him as other cast members filed in around you, Lorne standing in the middle of the room watching to make sure everyone came out. The audience applauded as the music played and camera panned.

After they gave the final countdown, Tom began giving thanks to many people, from cast and crew, to family, and to you.

“I want to give a huge thanks to tonight’s musical guest, y/n y/l/n,” he exclaimed, gesturing to you. The crowd cheered and you laughed and waved, giving him a joking elbow.

“I love you all! Goodnight!” he finally exclaimed.

With that, the music was brought up and everyone began hugging as the credits rolled. You immediately turned to Tom and he to you, both of you throwing arms wide.

You wanted to hug him forever, but realized that it would look fishy and there were many people you still wanted to hug and thank.

Both of you pulled back, giving each other a quick “good job!” before turning to others.

***

You were finally offstage and had said quick goodbyes to your family, who wouldn’t be staying for the afterparty. As you headed towards the greenroom for the last time that night, you were stopped by Tom.

“Hey! Y/n,” he said, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Oh my gosh there you are!” you said, turning to give him another hug, this one more emotional and less performative.

“I’m serious y/n, you were incredible. I know I’ve said it a million times but you have a real gift. Not to mention your acting skills,” he said into the crook of your neck.

You pulled away to look at him, arms still loosely wrapped around him.

“Well thank you, but you were great too. Everyone loved you. I loved you out there.” You paused for a moment, arms sliding from his shoulders as you continued to walk down the hall. “You know I had a lot of fun this week. Doing this and just hanging out. I was really nervous to meet you.”

“I did too, and yeah, we were all super nervous to meet you, too. Like I told you before, we listen to your music a lot. But, uh, that being said. All night I’ve been trying to ask if you’d like to go to the afterparty with me?”

“Oh yeah that’s perfect! Are the guys coming too?” you asked enthusiastically, not detecting the nervousness in his voice.

“No, no. I mean, yeah they’ll be there but...” he stopped and you followed suit. “I’d like you to go with me with me. And ideally leave with me... alone.”

Your eyes widened and breath hitched. Now it clicked. He was asking you out.

“Oh! Well then... I’d like that very much.” You smiled.

“Yeah?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yeah,” you answered.

Let’s just say you were singing a different kind of tune that night once you left to your empty hotel room “with him.”

***

A/N: omg omg omg I started this story forever ago but finally got around to finishing it! No new marriage project chapter this week, I thought I’d just post this to hold y’all over ;) Thanks for reading!

Permanent tag list: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl

If you’d like to be added, pls message or send an ask so you can verify that I’ve added you!

#live from new york it's saturday night #snl au #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x reader #harrison osterfield #Harry Holland #tom holland spider man

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effiecalvin · 3 years

Text

Here's a random memory.

I was a huge reader as a kid. In middle school the school librarian knew me by name and constantly acted like she was impressed by how much I read. But then one day I lost a book, which had literally never happened before in my life, and she totally lost her shit. It wasn't a rare or expensive book, it was a Lois Duncan thriller. And it wasn't like an expensive library bound edition, it was the same paperback you'd get at a bookstore for like $5. But for some reason the school librarian became completely obsessed with this missing book and demanded to know where it was every time she saw me. She would bellow the title at me from across the room. Finally I was like "look I'm sorry but it's gone, just let me pay the replacement fee" and I did. I paid $5 or whatever. I was perfectly happy to pay it, and I felt like I must be missing some important information since she was so worked up about this random paperback when she had a library filled with thousands of books.

I did eventually find the book and brought it back even though I'd already paid for it. I figured she'd be happy since it was apparently so important to her? But she just got mad all over again and said I never should have lost it. And I remembered that encounter for years and years and it always bugged me and felt just surreal. I thought it might make sense when I got older. That was something I told myself a lot when adults were strange or unfair, that it would make sense when I was older.

I got older and became a librarian myself but if anything, knowing what I know now makes it make less sense.

This story has no moral except some people should not work with kids.

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violetnotez · 4 years

Text

Izuku x reader

⤷ Genre: Fluff, Barista AU!

⤷ Word Count: 7000+

⤷ Warnings: FLUFF (and maybe some second hand embarrassment!)

⤷ Synopsis: As your getting your morning coffee fix from a new cafe, your pleasantly meet with an extremely cute barista. Too bad he heard your name wrong though.

Song Recs: ⤷Sweater Weather-The Neighbourhood ⤷I Dont Know Why-NOTD ⤷Touch and Go-Ed Sheeran

This is for the Izuku Month! PLs go and check out the awesome writers participating for this month!

Please ignore all my banners being 20 different sizes I can’t figure out which size I like best 😂

You stepped into the shop, the warm smell of spices and coffee beans filling the air. It felt so warm and cozy, the whirring of the machines going on in the background as you breathed out a deep sigh.

It was one of your first days off in what seemed like an extremely long time, so you thought it would only be fitting to do some exploring today. You had always wanted to try this coffee shop, as it was acclaimed for its signature “Hero Themed” Lattes, so of course you had to at least try one.

The line was fairly long, as any popular cafe would be in the morning, people bustling to get their caffeine fix before they did their daily routine.

You got a spot in line, opening up the cafe’s Instagram page to look at all the wonderful options. Everything looked so yummy and delicious, your mouth salivating at each picture posted. Your eyes were glued to the screen, your feet only moving once you felt the body in front of you inch forward.

It didn’t take long for a chirpy voice to call in front of you, a welcoming “Next Please!” ringing against your ear. You looked up, your mind finally deciding on what drink you wanted- until your eyes landed on quite possibly the prettiest boy you had ever seen.

His hair was unruly and curly, a mixture of greens cascading across his face. His eyes complimented his hair so well, the bright emerald orbs full of happiness and kindness. He was just adorable, his pearly white smile aimed straight at you, not a hit of worry amidst the chaos around him from the morning rush.

You gave him a meek smile, your cheeks on fire-god, how were you gonna order and not be completely flustered? This boy was literally gorgeous!

Your feet took you to the counter as you clutched your phone with shaky hands.

“Hi miss, what can I getcha?” He asked sweetly, his hands grabbing a cup. A Sharpie was posed in his fingers, waiting to start writing down exactly what you wanted to order. After being blessed with this beautiful specimen of a man in front of you, you completely forgot what you wanted to drink.

You hastily looked at the menu above your head, searching for the coffee you had planned to ask for. Nothing seemed right, and you were cursing yourself for looking so clueless.

This poor guy was probably already super busy, and you were now holding him up!

“Having some trouble?” He asked, noticing your obvious dilemma.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” you apologized, your lips shaped in a soft smile, “I kinda forgot what I wanted to order!”

“Oh no worries, really, I totally understand!” he grinned, “the menu is pretty big!”

“Yeah, it is!” you chuckled lightly, your cheeks feeling warm. “What do you recommend?”

The boy smiled at you, your heart swooning. God, how could he be so pretty!!

Wait-did he have freckles?!? The faint specks sparkled against his pinkish cheeks, making you fall for the boy even more. You had barely talked to this boy for 2 minutes and you were already head over heels.

He seemingly didn’t notice your heart pained crisis, his eyes bright as ever.

“Oh, everything on the menu is amazing! The Hawks latte is quite nice, it’s very light and airy-as well as the Endeavor, but it has cinnamon and gives it a pretty good kick-” he began rambling on about the drinks, his eyes brightening just talking about them. You couldn't fathom how he could talk so fast, the words melding into one as he listed off the most popular drinks.

His voice was melodic though, so soft and calming-yet so excited too. His voice could make calculus interesting to you.

“-but my personal favorite is the All Might drink,” he blushed slightly, his face clearly a little embarrassed as he relayed this information to you.

You grinned at his adorable expression, noticing the small All Might pin he had neatly stuck into the front of his apron.

“You're an All Might fan I’m assuming?” You noted, your voice amused and kind as you pointed at the enamel pin.

He touched the front of his apron, looking down as he tried to follow your line of eyesight.

“Oh-oh yeah!” He smiled brightly once he realized what you were referring to, “ever since I was a kid, he’s always been my favorite!”

He beamed at you, his voice stuttering slightly.

He was so adorable and a nerd too? God, you could marry him on the spot.

You grinned at him, flashing the back of your phone case and revealing the All Might pop socket in the back.

His eyes widened like saucers in shock, his smile growing even wider as he laid eyes on the fan merch.

“I might be an All Might fan myself,” you admitted, your heart thumping in your chest.

“Then you have to try the All Might latte!” He exclaimed, “If-if you want to try it of course..”

“I’m down!” You smiled brightly, watching how his face light up when you agreed as he hastily wrote down the drink order on the side of the cup.

“Can I-I get your name?” He stuttered slightly, his eyes wide and doe-like.

His hand holding the Sharpie was hovering over the cup, watching you with expectant eyes. You took a small breath, your words about to spill out of your mouth-until an extremely loud blender erupted in noise behind the counter.

“It’s y/n,” you tried to yell over the sounds, feeling a little bit of awkwardness fill your stomach as he cocked his head to the side, obviously confused.

He opened his mouth, words dribbling out but nothing being heard as the machine continued to whir on.

You internally cursed that damn thing for ruining the cute moment you had with this hot barista, your cheeks aflame as you nodded numbly to his question.

Whatever he asked couldn’t matter that much-right?

He smiled widely, accepting your answer as he hastily wrote your name on the side of the cup and told you the price of the drink. You quickly paid, your eyes drinking him in one last time-he was just so cute and adorable, you wanted to permanently get each detail of his emblazed into your memory.

He handed you your receipt and change back to you, his grin as wide as ever.

“My name is Izuku-Izuku Midoriya,” he added, his cheeks warm and his voice stuttering slightly, “just in case if you need anything else!”

You giggled softly, a little confused by his comment but nevertheless ecstatic by it.

His name! It was so unique, yet so innocent sounding and kind, you couldn’t help but feel your heart soar at the sound.

“Thank you Izuku,” you waved him politely, your heart pumping as you found an empty table to sit and wait for your drink. Your arms rested on the cool surface, the chair squeaking slightly as you shifted in a comfortable position. The machines continued to whir, the sounds of multiple conversations cascading throughout the small space. You began going through your social media, trying to suppress the wide smile that was trying to blossom over your face. You had just met the cutest guy ever- and weren't even trying! It almost felt so surreal, as if this moment was too good to be true.

“MIru!”

You began to hear his voice repeating a name, calling out for a customer to get their drink. You continued to look down at your phone, a small part of you saddened that it wasn't your name he was calling out.

“Uh-Miru?”

He continued to call out that same name, his voice getting a little louder each time. He almost sounded worried, hesitant even, as if he was confused about what was going on.

Thats weird- that person should have gotten their drink by now, you thought vaguely, noticing people were beginning to notice his voice as well.

“Wait, why are they looking at me?” you wondered, A small ounce of panic filling your stomach, making it feel heavy like lead as you finally looked around.

A few customers were giving you strange looks, your head swiveling now to look at Izuku.

Wait- why is he looking at me? You thought in horror, your eyes meeting the kind, emerald orbs of Izuku’s. He looked relieved once you finally made eye contact with him, a bright smile blossoming under those freckled cheeks of his. He gave a tentative wave, motioning for you to come over.

Well thats weird-the name he was calling out wasnt even close to yours-

You got up anyway, unable to disobey the kind eyes of Izuku. You pushed your chair under the table, the legs squeaking against the shiny floor as you shuffled your way to the counter.

“Hi again!” he said cheerfully, his voice shy and sweet against your ears. ‘Its-Miru, right?”

Oh no-wait-

You finally put two and two together, a horrible realization bursting inside you-

he heard your name wrong.

Oh crap, why did this have to happen to you? How did he hear get your name that bad??

You finally meet a nice guy, someone actually genuine and kind, you hit off of, and bam-something comes to screw it all up.

In this case-an obnoxiously loud blender turned on at just the worst time.

You licked your lips, your mouth parting slightly to tell him, no, in fact, that was not your name-

But you looked again at that charming face of Izuku’s, his expressions glazed with innocence and nerves as he waited expectantly for your answer. The poor guy had called out this random name for a 2 whole minutes, probably feeling so idiotic as he waited for you to come and get your drink. Your cheeks burned at the thought, feeling embarrassed for both you and him. He must have felt so awkward standing there, just staring at you in confusion as he called out your “name” and you not even moving a muscle! If you told him he had gotten your name completely wrong, he would feel even worse about the whole situation, most likely feeling extremely embarrassed for something that wasnt even his fault.

You didnt want to make him feel anymore nervous or awkward than he already felt-you decided to swallow your pride, your head meekly nodding in a “Yes.”

His face immediately light up, obvious relief flooding his expression.

“Oh, thats great!” he exclaimed, a nervous chuckle spilling from his lips, “for a second there, I thought I was saying your name wrong…”

“Yeah, imagine how embarrassing that would be,” you said, your voice hesitant as you gave him a nervous smile.

Oh, if he only knew.

“I-uh-I don't when you'll be able to come back, but-but I have some pro hero collectibles I'd really like to show you-of course, only if you're interested!” the poor boy was stuttering again, his words melding into one.”IknowyourprobablyreallybusyandIdon'twanttopressureyouitsjustIvenevermetagirlwholikeheroessomuch-”

You laughed sweetly at the boy’s obvious dilemma, his speech beginning to quicken at an ungodly rate as his cheeks blossomed adorably with red.

“You're a talker, aren't ya?” you said between giggles, your hand grabbing the drink from his. Your fingers brushed against each other momentarily, your heart quickening by the sudden contact.

“Id love to see them Izuku,” you gave him a small smile, his green orbs widening slightly and then scrunch up into a bright, nervous grin as he scratched the back of his neck.

“Can you come in on Tuesday-at 8? I know thats a little early but we aren't very busy then-”

You looked up, your teeth catching your lip as you thought over your schedule, the drink beginning to chill your palm.

“Thats sounds perfect, Ill see you on Tuesday, then,” you gave the boy a small smile, your eyes glinting mischievously, “Ill bring my signed All Might poster with me too-”

“A WHAT?!” he practically screamed those words, his voice giddy with excitement. “THE All MIght signed your-”

“Hey, Fanboy, can you please come back- we kinda need your help right now!” A girl with pink skin and piercing yellow eyes yelled over her shoulder, both her hands occupied as she swirled whip cream over two drinks at the same time. A girl with a brown bob was taking orders at warp speed, her face clearly in distress as the line somehow got longer as you two were talking.

“Oh-uh-of course Mina, Ill be right there!” he yelled back, his shyness returning as he gave you a small smile.

“Im sorry, I have to go-”

“No worries! I dont want to be taking more of your time,” you replied, a little bit of embarrassment dripping inside you as you sipped your coffee. Even though you felt guilty for talking to him for so long, you couldnt help but feel warm and fuzzy all over. He asked to to come back! This guy was so adorable you could practically scream. “Ill see you on Tuesday then?”

“Yeah-Tuesday!” he chuckled softly, “It was nice meeting up Miru.’

Oh yeah-he didnt actually know your name.

Your cheeks flushed with red , embarrassment building inside you as you remembered the miscommunication.

“Uh-uh-yeah, bye Izuku!” you hastily replied back as you walked over to the exit, making sure to keep your back to the boy as you used your shoulder to open it, a burst of chilled air hitting you.

God, your cheeks were so red- you sucked on your drink, hoping the intense coldness would cool down your face some.

It sucked that he had heard your name wrong, but the guy was too hot-you just didnt have the heart to tell him the truth then and there.

Oh well, you sighed, walking back to your car, there’s always time….

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

Next time never came.

You, of course, took Midoriya on his offer to meet up with him the next week. He had shown you pictures of his collection of hero figurines, and boy did he have a lot.

He seemed sheepish, showing you, his cheek blossoming red like a tomato, his freckles like specks of stars pecking out of a hazy sunset. He had stuttered as he held out his phone (an All Might phone case in the back of course), as he explained that he had been collecting since he was a kid.

You chuckled at his adorable demeanor- but god, he really had been collecting for years! His whole room was decked out in All mIght gear-it was quite impressive, but you had to giggle at the kid-ish nature of the room.

You, of course, had brought in the poster, which had brought tears to poor Midoriya's eyes. You would have thought he had won the lottery, his shrieks of excitement filling the empty cafe as he gushed over the signature

It was strange to see him without a crowd of people, the stress nowhere evident in his soft complexion as he freaked out over your piece of memorabilia.

You could truly appreciate him and his beauty when he wasn’t scrambling to get orders now, his laugh bright and unapologetic, his fanboy screams squeaky yet sweet. He radiates brightness, his whole body like a ball of energy of warm sunshine.

A bright sun in the cosmos.

You were gravitated to him, unable to stop yourself to want to know more and,learn everything about him: what he liked, what he didn’t like, his favorite food, his favorite color, his aspirations in life-any and every thing that made up Izuku Midoriya you wanted to document like you were his personal biographer.

It did feel awkward that he still called you by that silly name, but you were too embarrassed at that point to even confront him about it. You had visited his shop on the same day and time for the past 2 months, pegging for the poor boy like a puppy yearning for attention. At this point, you were getting quite antsy to go out with him, but he was still so nervous around you you were afraid to screw it up.

If you told him your name was wrong, would he be too embarrassed? Would it screw up the relationship you two had created from quick interactions behind a counter? Had you catfished in some weird way by playing along with the name he had mistakenly given you?

You were overthinking it, you knew it, but you were too terrified about the possibility of losing Izuku that you sucked up your worries. You had taken the name as a nickname now, the sound coming from his lips making your ears ting red and biting your lip in embarrassment. You were dying to hear your real name play against his lips, wondering how the word would sound in his sweetly honey voice

“Here ya go, one Mirko cappuccino!” Izuku shouted sweetly, his bright teeth gleaming under the fluorescent lights and morning sun.

You smiled at the green headed boy, your hands resting on the marble. The top felt cool against your skin, the flecks of brown like confetti as it glimmered against the lights.

You watched as he shuffled from behind the counter, sliding through a small gate as he walked towards you. Your heart skipped a beat dramatically.

He rarely came out from behind the counter, but when he did, it always made your breath disappear and your eyes get wide with flusteredness. For some reason, seeing him in all his glory, from his shaggy forest hair to his well built forearms made your mouth dry as you stared into those green orbs of his.

That permanent blush still played in his cheeks, the freckles matching the glimmering countertop perfectly as he stared down at you slightly. He handed you the drink, his fingers brushing against yours gently.

You internally screamed, your heart palpitating from the feathery touch. His skin was so warm and rugged, your index brushing gently against a raised scar. You had never noticed that slight imperfection on his otherwise unblemished skin, and your mind began reeling at the possibilities to why it was there.

Just another part of Midoriya you wanted to desperately learn and selfishly document for yourself.

You wrapped your hands around the thick paper of the cup , the texture rough yet warm against your fingertips.

“Can you maybe tell me how it tastes the next time you come in?” He looked down at you with a sheepish grin, his lips plump and pink as he talked, “ I’ve never made one before and I hope I didn’t make it too strong with the cinnamon,”

You took a deep breath, trying to will yourself to calm down. You internally thanked that Izuku was pretty oblivious to any type of flirting, or he would have definitely noticed you gawking at his lips.

“Definitely!” you smiled, “I’ll think you’ll be fine though, Mirko is a pretty feisty hero. There’s not enough cinnamon in the world to match her personality,”

Izuku chuckled at your comment, his hand scratching the back of his neck. “That’s very true! She definitely is one of the more spicier drinks we have...Im still experimenting with hers to make it just right,”

You nodded with his words, taking a sip of the drink as he talked. It really was filled with spice, the slight burn of the cinnamon pleasant as it rolled down your throat.

“I’ve actually been also working on a new drink as well,”

“Oh really,” your eyes widened in curiosity, “what hero is it based off of?”

A blush creeped onto his rosy cheeks yet again, his eyes downcast as he avoided your gaze.

““It’s not a hero, actually, just-it’s-kinda- special to me-since I’ve been thinking about it for some time... if that makes sense…

“I get it,” you said, your voice reassuring, “you're just really passionate about it-Im excited to try it, anything you make is amazing!”

“Oh-oh thank you!” he chuckled at your praise, unable to stop the stutters spilling from his mouth.

“I’m-I’m not quite done with it, but next time you come… I can explain it more and let you try it if you like!”

“Of course! I’d love to,” you smiled at the greenette, blood rushing to your ears as you stared at his bright complexion.

You swallowed thickly, not sure where to look as you tried to erase the flustered expression on your face.

He was too good and pure for this world-This boy could stomp on your heart and you’d say thank you.

You shakily stepped away from him, your hands clutching the drink like an anchor as you walked yourself to the door. you waved him a small goodbye, a smile gracing your lips as your eyes drank in Izuku one last time. It was a shame you only saw him for once a week, and you made sure to burn his image into your mind to satiate you for the next few days.

“Bye ‘Zuku, Ill see you next week!”

He waved back to you, a bright grin displayed on his rosy cheeks.

“Bye!”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

He heard the chime of the door jingle as you walked out the door, his eyes following you as you walked away from the store.

He watched you through the elongated windows of the cafe, your drink he made you in hand as he peered through the window. He did this every time you left, his neck straining as he tried to follow you, making sure you got into your car safely.

Heat rose in his cheeks, watching you walk away from him leaving a sad pit in his stomach.

He hated watching you leave, but it never stopped him from gawking at you when you go.

His breath felt tight in his chest, pure love flooding from his heart as your hair flowed delicately with your walk, his eyes trailing down to your beautiful legs-

“Hey Fanboy, you done gawking at your girlfriend,” he heard his pink skinned coworker call, her tone amused and teasing.

He jumped from where he was standing, his face erupting in red as he stumbled around his words.

“Oh-uh-hey Mina, I wasn’t doing anything I don’t know what your talking about-“

She walked around the counter, her finger pointing at him accusingly.

“Don’t lie to me mister! I know a love sick boy when I see one-and you,”

She poked her finger into his chest, her pink lemonade skin intimidatingly close to his, “are love sick.”

She threw her head back, her voice booming and bright- “You can come out Ochaco!”

The brown bob of Izuku’s other worker peaked out from the back door, her eyes wide with relief.

“Oh good! I would have felt bad if I walked in on you guys flirting-“

Izuku waved his hands frantically in front of him, his face as red as a tomato.

“We weren’t flirting I swear thatsnotwhatitwas-“

Mina laughed at the boys clear distress, her cotton candy tresses bouncing as she shook her head.

“You can’t fool us Midoriya-whenever your flustered your voice goes up like 10 octaves and you get redder than Kirishima’s hair,”

Izuku chuckled nervously as he tried to cover up his nerves as his coworker berated him. Ochaco walked over to the two, her kind aura making the air a little less thick as she looked up at Izuku with sympathy.

“It’s really sweet you like that girl so much-she seems to like you alot too,”

Mina shook her head in agreement, her canines glinting in the morning light.

“Oh definitely! Any girl that would still hang around after seeing Midoriya’s All MIght Room must be a keeper-“

“Have you gotten her number yet Midoriya?” Ochako asked, her eyes wide and curious, “Have you messaged her?”

Izuku scratched the back of his head, his eyes downcasted. He already knew the reaction he was going to get from his bubbly and sometimes feisty coworkers, and he wasn’t quite ready for their outburst.

“Oh no, well, we never exchanged numbers-“

“YOU NEVER EXCHANGED NUMBERS?!? Mina practically screamed, her yellow eyes blown huge like lemons.

“ We are in the 21st century Midoriya!” She yelled,

“Well we never quite got to-doing that-“ Izuku tried to reason, Mina clearly still flabbergasted and not impressed by his excuse

“Still-how.have.you.not. DONE THAT?!?”

Uraraka looked between the two, Mina on her tippy toes as she chewed him out, Izuku flushed with red. It was almost comical to watch, yet Uraraka felt sympathy for the poor boy who knew nothing about romance.

“Mina maybe-“ Uraraka placed a hand on the pink girl’s shoulder.

“Unbelievable!!” Mina continued, her head shaking, “I swear you live under a rock! Why haven’t you-she’s clearly into you!!”

Izuku’s eyes were like saucers, his hands shaking as he denied the girl.

“Oh no, she’s not, she can’t-were just friends, I bet she only come she only comes here for the coffee-“

Mina placed her hand on her hip, giving Ochaco a side eye look. The two girls watched the blubbering Izuku spill falsities from his lips, both quite sick of his denial

“Midoriya-,” Mina stated, her voice serious and honest, “there is no way-this girl is only ‘coming for the coffee’”

Uraraka nodded with Mina, her voice sweet like honey as she confirmed her pink friend’s words.

“You should see how she looks at you Izuku-her face lights up and her cheeks get so blushy! And whenever you talk to her her smile gets so much brighter!”

“You should see her when she looks at your behind too-“

“Mina!”

Uraraka swatted the girl playfully with her arm, earning a laugh from the pink toned girl.

“What, it’s the truth! She likes you Midoriya, she’s practically head over heels-“

Izuku listened to the two girls sheepishly, not knowing quite what to do with himself. All these weeks he had been hoping against hope you had liked him back-ever since that day he met you he felt he was destined to know you. He had never met a girl so welcoming and sweet, let alone as gorgeous as you. The fact you had accepted his quirky, nerdy side so quickly as well as were interested in his obsessions practically made his heart swoon with joy. Every week he looked forward to seeing you, counting down the minutes and seconds before he heard that welcome chime of the door announcing your arrival every Tuesday morning.

He thought about you all the time, wishing he knew what it felt like to hear your voice over the phone, to hold your hand, to see you in a pretty dress as he took you out to a nice restaurant...He was scared of rejection, and the fear you didn't like him back suffocated him, but these words from his coworkers were definitely boosting some of his confidence.

“R-really???” He stuttered, “ I-I didnt know all that…”

The two girls nodded their heads, their smiles wide as they watched their flustered coworker.

“You like her back, right?” Uraraka tilted her head, her brown strands cascading across her cheeks.

Izuku nodded his head quickly, his eyes wide and cheeks aflame.

Mina reached out, her hands latching onto Midoriya's bicep and squeezing reassuringly. “Then ask her out-Or at least get her number so the poor girl isn’t spending her money on coffee every week to just see you-“

“I-I actually was going to ask the next time she came in,”

Izuku looked to his side as the two girls gasped in awe. Uraraka let a squeal slip from her lips, her cheeks bright as ever.

“Oh Izuku that’s amazing! How were you going to ask?”

He shuffled his feet, feeling a little exposed with all the excessive attention on him. His hands began to squirm and wring together, his eyes looking to the side under his coworkers intense stares.

“Well, I-I made this new drink...and I actually made it based off of her- I’ve been writing down all the flavors she likes and doesn’t like and making a drink that’s perfect for her...,”

His coworkers were quiet-too quiet.

He looked up, a pit of fear growing in his stomach as he gazed at each of their faces, their shocked faces making him feel insecure about his plan.

“Is that-too weird??” He asked hesitantly.

The air left his chest as the two girls threw their bodies at him in a tight bear hug, their voices gushing over the boy.

“Oh Izuku that’s adorable!”

“You're such a meat head about love but thats so freaking cute!”

Ochaco and Mina were squealing, the tightness of their hug squeezing all air from his lungs. His knees locked from the sudden force, stumbling as he tried to support the two gushing girls.

“It’s was just an idea, I didn’t realize you two would like it-“ he squeaked out.

The two girls finally let go of their vice-like hug, their giggles and smiles radiating off their faces.

“We LOVE.” Mina started, her grin wide. “As women, we put our stamp of approval!”

“Really?”

“Of course! It’s honestly so adorable, I’m kinda jealous-“

As Mina was praising the blushing boy, Ochaco looked out the window, her smile slowing dropping into a tired grin.

“Uh, guys… I think we should start getting ready…”

A massive group of what seemed like 10 women in work clothing were bounding down the street, their eyes staring through the windows of the cafe as if they were already anticipating stepping inside.

Mina sighed, her face hardening as she started walking to the drink station, already prepping drink cups for the anticipated rush.

“But not as jealous as I am of that flower business that closed down last week. Get ready babes, morning rush is coming!”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

It was finally the next week, and you were extremely excited to see Midoriya again. Even if it was only for a few minutes, just speaking to him light up your whole day and the rest of your week.

You wished sadly you could get to see or hear from him every day, instead of every week, but you knew the boy was too nervous still to say anything about his feelings (if he did have them towards you). You were getting antsy with each passing visit to just ask him out yourself, but you were too afraid of scaring off the flustered boy.

You weren't very keen on just letting him go though, so you decided you’d keep up this little arrangement you two had-For as long as it would take.

You opened the glass door of the cafe, a gust of cold air sweeping your lungs and the scent of coffee enveloping your nose. You took a deep breath in, willing your heart to calm down to the calming scent.

As you did every time you came, no one was inside-Midoriya really knew when the cafe was empty. You bypassed the long line, walking yourself over to the front counter.

Midoriya seemed to not have noticed your entrance, his back towards you as he hummed to the song playing softly throughout the shop. You smiled at his adorable sounds, appreciating the broadness of his back as his green tresses cascaded against his neck.

You cleared your throat slightly, smiling softly as Midoriya turned around. He jumped slightly at your sudden entrance, a soft yelp cascading out of his lips.

“Oh hey Miru!I didn’t even notice you came in!”

He chuckled as you winced slightly at the name, quickly recovering with a sheepish smile.

“Obviously” you giggled, resting your hands on the cool countertop, “ you looked like you saw a ghost!”

You gazed into his green orbs, the color sending a warm shiver along your back. They were so vibrant, so expansive, that it was like getting lost in a forest, yet you weren’t scared in the slightest. You welcomed that lost feeling, that sense of adventure to flood your systems and calm your fluttering heartbeat.

If you weren’t careful though, you’d get lost in those galaxies that were his eyes, forever adrift in those irises.

He smiled at you, the apples of his cheeks prominent with freckles as he gazed down at you.

“Well it’s felt so long since I last saw you!” He exclaimed, a warm hue in his cheeks.

You smiled mischievously, tilting your head at the boy. “I hardly think 5 days is a ‘long time’,”

“Well, for me it is,” Izuku stared blissfully at your face, his voice extremely soft and gentle.

Your head exploded with happy screams and alarms, feeling the heat rush to your face. He was looking at you with those doe-like eyes, like he was basking in peace with your presence next to him.God, why did he have to be so cute?

He seemed to not even notice how his comment sounded until he noticed your change in demeanor, your cheeks and ears tinged with an intense red. Once it dawned on him he had just-well-flirted with you, he became instantly flustered.

He chuckled uncontrollably, his voice going up an octave.

“I, Uh,well I mean it’s just felt like a while and I have seen you in quite a bit of time did you get a new hair cut maybe that’s what it is-“

You giggled , shaking your head. The poor boy was a stuttering mess, his tongue melding his words into one to the point you couldn’t distinguish a thing.

It always made you feel better about your flusteredness around Midoriya-no matter how nervous you felt, Midoriya always seemed to be ten times more nervous than you.

You reached across the counter, your hand tentative as your fingers laid against his.

You internally screamed in happiness-the skin feeling so comfortable and warm against your own. Your movement seemed to hush Midoriya long enough for him to stop stuttering, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

His cheeks were red with heat, his eyes wide as he stared at you.

“It’s fine, really,” you grinned, “5 days feels pretty long to me too.”

You let your hand rest on Midoriyas for a few more seconds, memorizing the soft texture of his skin in your own.

It was intoxicating, he was intoxicating, and it took everything out of you to pull yourself away.

You were now outright flirting with him, even if he wasn’t intentionally flirting with you. He was fidgeting and blushing like a schoolgirl-he clearly knew you were flirting back.

You bite your lip in fear, hoping you didn’t scare him off.

“So, Uh, you said you had a new drink?” You said awkwardly, not quite sure how to act normally after your comment, “were you able to finish it?”

Izuku perked up, a grin gracing his face as his cheeks were still on fire.

“Oh! Yeah I did actually!” He swallowed again, his hands wringing together. “Did-did you want to try it?”

“Of course!” You beamed at the boy, your heart skipping as your eyes focused on those adorable freckles. Your hand went to your wallet, already skimming for your debit card. “How much do I-“

He instantly waved his hands in front of him, stopping your search.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured your confused expression, a timid smile in his lips. “This ones on the house,”

“Oh-okay,” you thanked the boy, earning a small nod as he began to make your drink.

Whenever he made your order, he was usually so talkative, speaking about anything and everything from hero stats to college classes. Yet, for some reason the boy was extremely quiet as he crafted your drink.

It made you feel uneasy-did you scare him? You knew Izuku was pretty flustered to any type of flirting-hell, he would blush if you simply said “Good Morning.”

Maybe you make him uncomfortable? A pit grew in your stomach at the thought, not knowing quite what to do as you watched him do his work.

But he didn’t seem that on edge, right? He didn’t push your hand away, and his smiles were still genuine. Maybe he was just worried about making the drink right-

Right?

Izuku broke your train of thought as he was now standing right next to you, his chest mere inches from yours as he stared down at you with loving eyes. His hand held your drink, the coffee the color of thick honey. His fingers were fidgeting slightly, as if his nerves were taking over as he presented it to you with a sheepish grin.

You didn’t expect him to be so close, but you weren’t regretting it at all. Your heart felt tight against your chest, blood rushing to your ears as the only thing you could focus on was Midoriya’s presence so close to yours.

You cleared your throat, trying to act casual and hide your clearly obvious shock.

“For me?” You asked thickly, wincing internally at your question.

Of course it was for you, you were the only person in this whole cafe getting coffee!

Sometimes Midoriya could make your brain feel like mush-and you didn’t quite enjoy it.

He seemed to not notice how silly your question sounded, his head bobbing a “yes”.

“I-I hope you like it,” he smiled sweetly, handing you the drink.

Your hands grazed yet again, your heart palpitating as you took a sip of the drink. It was cold against your dry tongue, coating it in its sugary goodness.

Your eyes were instantly went wide like saucers once the flavor enveloped your tongue-holy shit, this was good-like liquid gold.

“Oh my god, Midoriya,” you said between gulps of the amber liquid, “this is-amazing!”

He chuckled softly at your obvious praises, his hands scratching the back of his neck.

“I was hoping you’d say that….I-“ he swallowed, his face contorted in two, as if he was battling internally with something.

You looked up, momentarily pausing your gulps as you watched the boy with concern. He took a deep breath, his face downcasted and worried as he began to speak, his voice quiet and vulnerable.

“I-I actually based it off of you, and the flavors you like.

All these coffees are based off of heroes, people that are extremely special to my life and have been my obsession since I was a child and even now. It’s just so strange to me though, because for as long as I could remember heroes and their work were the only thing I could ever really think of. But-but there's been something that’s been taking up my thoughts, and their the only thing I can think about-I guess you could say I have a new obsession.”

You looked up at him with shocked eyes, your lips parted as you stared at him with a thumping heart.

His voice was so soft, so gentle-as if he was pouring out all his feelings in just a few breaths.

“And what's that?” You asked hesitantly, leaning into the boy as you waited for his answer. You felt your lungs taking in less air, your nerves kicking in as you searched his face.

You watched his eyes suddenly look into yours, making your heart stop and your breath hitch in your throat. You felt yourself get fully enveloped in those green orbs, the expanse of forest caught in those irises of his.

A gulp could be heard from Izuku, his cheeks red like cherries.

“My new obsession is-is you,” he struggled with the words, his voice timid and scared.

“I love talking to you Miru, I really do-and I was wondering if maybe-we could get lunch someday?? Without coffee involved?” He chuckled a little as he tried to lighten the mood, his eyes downcasted as he avoided your gaze.

You felt like you scream-it HAPPENED??? He was finally, finally asking you out??? You felt like you could cry and laugh at the relief flooding your body, your hands itching to wrap around his neck and kiss him from giddiness.

You restrained yourself from doing that, but the huge grin enveloping your face was hard to contain.

“I’d love to Midoriya! I’m so happy you asked, Ive been wanting to go out with you for so long now-“ you giggled nervously at your confession, your hands wrapped around your drink as you cuddled it close to your chest.

Your cheeks were suddenly enveloped in red, a realization dawning on you,

He still didn’t know your name-well, not your real name.

“Uh-one problem though,”

Midoriya’s eyes grew wide with concern, his lashes fluttering as he blinked.

“Oh-okay…” He replied timidly, “what is it?”

You sighed, your teeth catching your bottom lip in nervousness. How could you tell him that he had been calling you the wrong name for close to 2 months now?! Embarrassment filled your stomach, your mind internally kicking you for not correcting him a long time ago.

You cleared your throat, trying to make your tone sound nonchalant.

“Well-Miru isn’t my name. My real name is y/n”

“Wait-what?!?” Midoriya practically shrieked, his eyes wide with bewilderment. His voice went up an octave, something you noticed he did when he was completely shocked. A small chuckle escaped your lips, his face completely comical.

“Yeah, the day we met you heard my name wrong… but I was too embarrassed to say anything, so I kinda just let you keep saying it-.”

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry y/n I didn’t realize I was being so rude if I would have known I would have never called you that I cant believe i got your name so completely wrong-“

He was freaking out, you could tell-his whole face was red, his tongue slipping and flailing over his words as he tried to apologize profusely.

Your heart went out for the poor boy, guilt filling your stomach for not telling him sooner.

“It’s fine Izuku, really! It’s my fault I didn’t say anything! Let’s just exchange numbers and forget it all happened, Kay?”

Your hand lightly went out to touch his arm, your fingers laying lightly on his shirt sleeve as you smiled at him sweetly. That seemed to calm him down, the speed of apologies finally stopping against his lips.

“Oh-okay sure!” He returned your smile, his eyes bright and loving.

“ Ya know, I like y/n better…”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

Bonus:

“You idiot!” Mina shrieked, her hand flailing a spoon at him like a weapon. “You got her name wrong! How do you even do that!”

Izuku stuttered, unable to figure out how to calm down the fiery girl in her angry rant.

“It-it was a mistake, it was loud and I heard it wrong-“

Mina huffed, her yellow eyes piercing as she flung the spoon around again, Midoriya dodging it as she continued to scold him.

“You are lucky- she is one of the nicest girls you will ever meet! If you did that to any girl they’d drop your ass like a dead fly!”

“Mina I-“

Mina then pointed the spoon right at his face, his eyes going cross eyed as he stared at the curve of the utensil with fear. His hands went up as against his body, his palms out in a sign of peace as Mina leaned herself aggressively towards him.

“Don’t you dare mess this up Izuku Midoriya! She is the best thing you will ever find!”

Taggings:

@weebartistinc @orokayagi @leeeah-loooser @bakarinnie

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soyforramen · 4 years

Text

Blame @sullypants for this one since weird dreams are a common theme lately:

“Hey, Jug.”

Shaken by some unknown force, Jughead groaned and nestled further into his arms.

“C’mon, wake up,” Archie said, his voice coming from a universe away.

Sleep was a dense fog that settled in behind Jughead’s eyelids and he couldn’t muster the energy to push it away. He’d fallen asleep in school again, that much he could discern from the hard table beneath him. But at least the desk was a lot more comfortable than the janitor’s closet had been.

“Dude, let’s go,” Reggie said.

With a hard tug, Jughead was snapped awake. With a wide yawn he stretched out, his back giving a satisfyingly loud crack.

“What’s up?”

“School’s over, Rip Van Jones,” Reggie said. With a roll of his eyes, he ran a hand through his already slicked back hair. “The girls are waiting for us at Pop’s. Apparently we have to have a set list for Sunday and they wanted to go over it after school. Or at least we were supposed to before this knucklehead got us detention from Grundy again.”

Jughead blinked, convinced he’d heard Reggie wrong. Grundy was dead, murdered by the Black Hood. Even if she had come back to life, what was she doing around high schoolers?

“How was I supposed to know she meant a rhyme scheme from Donna Sweet and not Saweetie,” Archie muttered. “Besides, if we leave right now we still might make it before they ditch us.”

Wait, sweater vest. Why was Archie wearing a sweater vest? And was was Reggie acting so cordial?

Certain that this was another weird dream, Jughead reached for his Serpent’s jacket and found that the back of his chair was empty. Serpent’s jacket?

“I still think that we should ditch Jingle Jangle,” Reggie said as he headed out the door.

“What? It’s my best work,” Archie said as he followed him out.

With another yawn, Jughead picked up his books and followed them out into the cool autumn air. With a start, he realized that it was just a dream, a really weird dream to be exact. There was no biker gang that gave out jackets to kids like candy. He and Archie and Reggie had always been a strange sort of friends; and Grundy was never anything more than a septuagenarian determined to drive herself into an early grade by teaching high brow literature to idiot high schoolers.

On the way to Pop’s, Jughead ignored Archie and Reggie’s argument over some girl the next town over and worked to piece together the dream. It had all been so real that it wasn’t a wonder he’d been confused. Everything in Riverdale had been the same as it was now, except it was all off just enough to cast a dark shadow across their sleepy little town.

Hiram Lodge, a well known philanthropist and entrepreneur who tolerated his daughter’s friends was not a corrupt Wall-Street con-man looking to rule the world. The Coopers, an All American family, was not rife with dark secrets that would eventually tear them apart. The Blossom’s, while certainly devious and conniving in their own ways, were not ripped from the pages of a gothic horror novel.

And the Jones…

Jughead shuddered at the thought. Sure, they weren’t the perfect family. But they loved each other, took care of each other, and were as normal as they could be. That image of his family brought up a wave of guilt about how his subconscious had portrayed his parents.

(He couldn’t help but grin, however, at the idea that baby Jellybean could not only hold her own, but was a fan of Led Zeppelin. It was a nice touch. Maybe he’d roundup his mother’s old records tonight and he’d teach her to appreciate the finer things in life.)

But it wasn’t until they’d walked into Pop’s to find the girls seated at their regular booth that the realization that this Betty - sweet, caring, lovely Betty - wasn’t his that he felt a pang of longing for his dream world. Despite how horrific that dream had been, Betty was the golden lining in that dark world, a comfort meant only for him.

The feeling passed quickly when Betty’s eyes locked on Archie. Jughead couldn’t help but wonder, though, what if things had been different?

For the rest of the afternoon, the members of The Archie’s debated and argued over the set list, while Jughead did what he did best. While Archie was arguing for the merits of Sugar, Sugar, Jughead polished off three baskets of fries and a milkshake. When Veronica demanded to sing Bang-Shang-A-Lang solo, Jughead ate two and a half cheeseburgers and drank half a pot of coffee. As Reggie was arguing for… well, whatever it was he wanted, Jughead nursed a chocolate milkshake and a basket of fries (extra chili cheese, heavy on the onions and cheese, add bacon).

Occasionally he inserted his own opinion - no he would not let Reggie ruin another drum set just so he could show off to Ginger Lopez, nor was it feasible for Veronica to burst out, and ruin, his kick drum at the start of the show. But even as he played at normalcy, his mind kept coming back to that dream. Detention with Grundy could never be long enough to contain an entirely parallel universe, and yet it was the most realistic dream he’d ever had.

“Earth to Juggie,” Betty said as she waved her hand in front of his face. He blinked, his gaze centering on her, and she giggled. “Anything you’d like to share with the class?”

He glanced around and found that despite his attempts to stay present, he and Betty were the only two left.

“Veronica roped Archie into installing shelves for her,” Betty explained with an over exaggerated pout. She then pointed over to where Reggie was chatting a short, dark haired teen. “And Midge came in without Moose, so you know Reggie’s not going to miss that opportunity.”

Midge.

The world around Jughead spun and he felt lightheaded when he stood. He walked over to where the pair stood at the counter, and when Midge turned to him Jughead wrapped her in a tight hug, tears threatening to pour from his eyes.

“You alright there, needle nose?” Reggie asked, his eyes filled with concern.

Apparently Jughead hadn’t been able to play as normal as he’d thought.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he said, loosening his hold. He stared at Midge, still trying to comprehend why he felt so relieved that it was all just a dream. “I’m just… happy to see you is all.”

“I’m always happy to see you, Jughead,” Midge said. She placed the back of her hand across his forehead, the corners of her lips pinched. “But maybe you should let Betty take you home?”

Jughead nodded as the surreal threatened to overwhelm him. When he turned, he found Betty behind him, her arms full of their schoolbooks. She set a hand on his arm and gave an encouraging, if worried, smile. It was easy enough to let her lead him out of the diner. That way he could remind himself that the world where Midge had been slaughtered wasn’t real.

“Penny for your thoughts? Or maybe I should offer a nickel?” Betty asked. When he didn’t respond, she bumped her hip into his.

The contact, friendly, playing, concerned, burned his side. It brought up just how touchy they were in his dream world, along with false memories of things he’d never paid any attention to before (especially not about her). He shivered and quickened his step. Betty, ever the Teflon personality, matched his stride and slipped her arm through his.

“Just a strange dream,” he muttered, far too distracted by how much heat she gave out to come up with a good lie.

“Sounds like a pretty intense dream if you’re still thinking about it this much.”

And with that simple statement, the entire thing tumbled out of him. Nothing was left out, though Jughead did edit some of the more intimate moments they’d spent together in his dream. He was so wrapped up in making sure to include all the details - the corruption, the ever-burning ember of hope, the rocket - that he almost missed the fact that Betty had guided them through the town square three times as he divulged the dirty laundry about the underground boxing rings and Maple Club.

By the time they’d reached his house it was twilight and he was telling her about the prep school murders and fake FBI stings. His mother (his real mother, thankfully, and not the drug running mom that had run out on him) brought them out dinner just as he got to his own faked death.

And for the first time in his life, Jughead’s entire focus wasn’t on getting seconds (and thirds).

When he was finally done with his tale, Betty let out a long whistle. She pushed around the remaining bits of pie on her plate, lost in thought. Now that his head was empty of that bizarre dream, Jughead’s appetite came back with a vengeance. He leaned over and snatched the rest of her pie crust and popped it into his mouth.

“Well?” he prompted, curious to get her take on his dream.

“Do you think the fish Ms. Beezley served today was off?”

He rolled his eyes and grinned at her ability to lighten the mood. Jughead leaned back and set his elbows against the porch step behind him to look up at the sky. Betty set her plate down and sat down next to him, primly smoothing out her skirt before she spoke.

“Do you really think we …” she paused. “My mother? And your dad?”

Jughead groaned and ran a hand down his face. “I’d hate to think what Freud would say.”

“Well, he’d definitely agree it wasn’t a pipe,” she snickered. “Maybe your subconscious is trying to tell you something?”

“Convince Archie that Jingle-Jangle is a terrible song to play to middle schoolers?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

As the world turned around them, they sat in companionable silence. As curious as Jughead was to know what Betty really thought, it was these quiet moments with her that he felt truly at peace. Perhaps that’s what the dream had signified. With all the clamor and turmoil over senior year and applying for colleges, maybe his brain was trying to tell him to slow down and enjoy these little moments more.

Or maybe it was just a sign he shouldn’t shotgun a whole liter of soda before Grundy’s lecture on Dashiell Hammet.

“Walk me home?” Betty asked suddenly.

Without waiting for an answer, she hopped up and pulled Jughead to his feet, the same as they’d done a million times before. Only this time Betty tugged a little too hard and Jughead stumbled into her. He was about to apologize when he noticed the twinkle of mischief in her eyes. To hide his smile, he bent over and tucked his shoulder into her stomach. Betty shrieked as he lifted her up over her shoulder, precariously balancing the two of them as he picked up her books.

“Put me down Jones,” she said through her laughter, “or I’m telling Ethyl that you’d love to play D&D with her.”

“Dirty pool, Cooper,” he shot back as he casually sauntered down the block to her house. He ignored the faint whisper of the peaches and cream lotion she used on her skin and the breathless lilt of her voice. Because no matter how right it felt in the dream, they were only friends here. “And it’s G&G, remember?”

Once back on solid ground, Betty slipped her arm through his and they strolled along under the streetlights. Just another night in the neighborhood without a care in the world.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad,” she said almost absentmindedly. When she didn’t elaborate, Jughead’s heart gave a heavy, painful thump. “I could always use more help with the B&G.”

He snorted and reached up to scratch his forehead to ignore the sudden disappointment. “Toni does have some strong opinions about the gym’s new paint job.”

Betty stuck her tongue out at him, her face scrunched. Jughead almost tripped trying not to kiss the tip of her nose.

His mood darkened when they reached her house. Archie was on the front porch, napping, and the small seed of possibility withered into dust. But instead of running towards Archie, Betty paused next to him. Her teeth worked across her lip and she stared, unfocused at him. Her hand on Jughead’s arm tightened and she shifted almost imperceptibly towards him.

With a small nod, Betty stood up on her toes and kissed Jughead on the cheek. He flushed as the sun exploded in his chest.

“Meet me at Pop’s tomorrow after school. There’s a new French movie at the Bijou, and I’d hate it if Veronica saw it before me.”

He knew the smile on his face was just as goofy as the one’s he made fun of Archie for, but Jughead couldn’t help but wonder at this strange new turn. For once, he was excited to spend time alone with a girl. (He was always excited to spend time with Betty Cooper, but this time she wasn’t just Betty.)

His smile lasted all the way home and continued until he settled into bed. Just as he was falling asleep, his phone rang with a text from Betty.

‘Some of your dream sounded nice enough to try out in real life, don’t you think?’

To say that Jughead had trouble falling asleep for the first time was an understatement.

#bughead fanfiction #bughead appreciation week #thank you sully for letting me know we're all having weird dreams lately #and boom #this #trope 1: it was all just a dream #also i'm without anything but the most basic internet so i'll be a ghost in the machine again #but also i didn't want to do my art homework (which has nothing to do with art but ya know)#so #also thank you anon ;.; got me crying over here #i will answer you just when i have functioning internet

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myhauntedsalem · 3 years

Photo

30 Doctors, Nurses and Paramedics Describe their Most Disturbing Medical Stories

1. The Guessing Game

“I work as an ICU nurse. A mid-20s female came in with some serious cardiac abnormalities and then went into respiratory distress. Never had any medical history at all. We had to put her on the ventilator, but she was on just enough sedation to keep her lucid. She could nod/shake her head yes and no appropriately to questions.

One night, the patient in the room next to hers died, but the body was still in the room about to be taken to the morgue. The female patient’s door was closed with curtains drawn, so she couldn’t have seen what was going on next door. When I went in to check on her, she had a look of sheer panic on her face, trembling. I asked her a series of questions to see if she was cold/hot/in pain/etc. and she denied all. I asked her if she saw something—she started to aggressively nod her head YES. She wasn’t on any drugs that would make her hallucinate. I went on to get details on what this thing looked like. After playing 20 questions I got this: a man, pale white, left arm missing, heavy, bald, standing still, behind me. This was the man who had just died next door.

I spent the rest of the night consoling her.” – whites42

2. Life After Death

“When I was on an ER rotation during med school we got a call about a 23-year-old woman who was shot in the head, and who was already completely gone, but was reportedly five months pregnant so they were doing CPR until they got her to the hospital to see if the baby was viable. They got her to the ER and did an ultrasound and turned out the baby was full-term so they did a C-section in like under a minute and got the baby out.

I don’t think it’s so incredibly uncommon but it was pretty surreal to see a baby delivered from a dead person with their brain exposed and she was pretty close to the same age I was at the time.” – bluegraypurple

3. The Last Goodbye

“When I was a student, I got called in on a stroke patient. She had coded and they were doing CPR. They worked for 45 minutes, but she died. They cleaned her up, and called on the family to say goodbye, but by that time the family left. She had been both brain dead and without a pulse for more than 45 minutes. Blood had filled her brain, and she was completely grey and started to smell. Suddenly, she sat up, and called for her family. The nurses rushed to get monitors and equipment back on her. They started working on her again, she stabilized, said goodbye to her family, and promptly died a second time.” – simplesimon6262

4. Miracle Man

“When I was in trauma surgery in upstate by, got a notification about a man who was shot 3 times in the head. He comes in, literally one eye hanging out of the socket, blood everywhere, and he’s slumped forward. Apparently, he was shot in the temple, exited out his right eye socket, in the nose exited from the roof of the mouth, and In the cheek one with exit from the side of the head.

At this point, I’m thinking they just brought him in so we can pronounce him in the ER because he looked dead. I go to examine him and tilt his head back, and he says ‘Yoooo be gentle!’ I jump back and scream like a little boy, as did everyone in the room. Literally, the bullets missed his brain in every single shot.” – Noimnotonacid

5. Bleeding

“One of the aides I work with said she was doing postmortem care on a patient who had been on many, many anticoagulants before death. She said when they turned her on her side she started bleeding out of every orifice—eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. She said her and the nurse went home and had nightmares for a week.” – sparklingbluelight

6. The Haunted Hospital

“My town has two really old hospitals. One no longer functions overnight, and the stories are unsettling. No one cleans the old ER alone because all the lights and call bells go off. On other floors, there’s a kid with his ball, a lady in a white dress, etc. A coworker was cleaning an entire floor utterly solo (the norm) and bounced between rooms because the cleaning solution stays wet for a few minutes. Upon returning to a freshly wiped bed, hand prints were clearly visible.” – Sapphire_Starr

7. Eyeless

“I used to do home care for an elderly lady with learning disabilities and no eyes (they were removed due to a congenital condition). She was lovely but prone to wandering around her flat at night in total silence, which led to several horrifying situations where I left my room at 2 am only to encounter her standing silently in the hallway, turning her eyeless face towards me.” – NovelistResearcher

8. Lonely

“One call that will always haunt me was on an unresponsive female at around three in the morning. We get there and do some pointless CPR along with the fire department… She had been dead for a while; no shock-able rhythm, and clear rigor mortis. The most disturbing part was that the original caller was her 11-year-old daughter, who had just spent three days with her mother’s corpse and called 9-1-1 because she was ‘lonely’. It also didn’t help that the victim was completely naked when we arrived.” – CupofJoe776

9. Clear Waters

“I have quite a few stories, most of them are hilarious and then there are those you never want to think about. What fucked me up the most was when I saw how eyes change at the moment of death. Imagine you are looking at clear water but that clear water changes to foggy in an instant. In my 8 years here I’ve only seen this once, and I’ve personally seen well over 250 dead or dying people.” – ImCuden

10. Night Lights

“I work nights in a long-term care facility as a nurse’s assistant. I have two men under my care and both of them are unable to use their call lights. They have severe dementia and debilitating Parkinson’s disease but still, their lights are looped around their bed rail. One night their light came on and I went to answer it already confused and creeped out. I turned it off and left the room. Before I could get two doors up the light came back on. I went in there and both lights were unplugged from the wall and thrown under their beds. I fished them out, plugged them back in and left.

I’ve seen shadows standing over the dying and felt a tap on my shoulder while doing chest compression’s so I knew that lady had passed.” – beeoakly

11. Holding Hands

“I’ve had a couple of weird calls. One was a major MVA-head on many, many years ago when we played M.E. as well. We had 2 DOA (husband and spouse) that were killed instantly in a head-on collision. They had a 12-year-old daughter that was in between them and they actually took the impact, saving her life.

While en route, we noticed the husband’s arm had come loose so I went back to re-strap it. As I was doing that, the wife’s arm suddenly fell out as well, and her hand fell into her husband’s. My boss was watching in the rearview mirror and helped clear the way as I ran back into the front. It spooked both of us. Apparently, the couple (mid 30’s), had just found out he was cancer free after his last treatment.” – Anonymous

12. Last Meal

“I had an old lady come in by ambulance, near death. She was a DNR (do-not-resuscitate), so we weren’t going to do much for her. She didn’t have any family that we could find. The hospital was full, so we had to keep her in the ER for the night.

Again, she was near death. When you’ve seen enough people die, there’s no mistaking it, and she was almost there. Barely responsive; pale, cool, breaths were really irregular, heart rate was up and down, too. We just turned the lights down and kept an eye on her monitor, basically waiting for her to die.

About an hour later, she’s standing at the door of her room. She’d gotten up and put on all her clothes. We were all like, ‘WTF?’ One of the nurses went to check on her, and she said she was hungry. Not knowing really what to make of things, we got her a chair, a bedside table, and went to the cafeteria and got her a tray of food.

She sat there, ate all her food, talked with the staff a little. After about an hour, she told her nurse that she was tired and wanted to lie back down. We helped her back into bed, and within 30 minutes she was dead.” – Anonymous

13. “Don’t Let me go Back there”

“When my mom worked as an E.R. nurse a guy came in from a car accident and was losing blood. In the midst of resuscitation, the man jolts awake and screams ‘Don’t let me go back there! Please, please, please don’t let me go back!’ A few seconds later they lost him.” – JeremyHowell

14. The Rusty Old Saw

“This woman was clearly struggling mentally. She went into her basement and started sawing at her wrists horizontally with a rusty hacksaw, bleeds a good amount, and then starts walking around the house. She wasn’t dying quick enough, so she sat down in a chair in the middle of the living room, and started going at her wrists again, this time with a pair of scissors.

I was the second person inside the house. It looked like a massacre. We searched the house top to bottom, fully expecting to find multiple dead bodies in there. I’ve never seen so much blood in my life. Every single room had a trail of blood in it.

The woman was found on a chair in the living room. Rigor mortis had contorted her body into a really strange, unnatural pose, and her face was haunting. Literally the stuff of nightmares. Her wrists had huge chunks of skin/veins/muscle missing from them. Saying she slit her wrists is inaccurate. She ripped them to pieces.” – anoncop1

15. Visitors

“I work a stroke/telemetry floor on the bought shift. Most of our patients are elderly. Apparently, there are two things that patients see before they pass away. Some will say that two men are walking in their rooms and telling them to get ready to leave. The patient will call and tell us that these men are big and abrasive in their demeanor. They are either terrified or annoyed when they see the two men. The other thing they will see is a little boy who will go into their rooms and try to wake them up. The boy is usually loud and runs around their rooms. The patients will call and ask who’s letting children just run around late night. Several nights or even that same shift we’re coding or cleaning the patient for the funeral home to pick up.” – pokfynder

16. The Handsome Man in Black

“I used to work in a skilled nursing facility, usually assigned to the Alzheimer’s ward. One night I’m in the linen room stocking my cart, and I heard someone shuffle up behind me, then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and there was no one else in the room. The door was still shut too.

Another lady started to complain that a man was coming into her room at night (again, Alzheimer’s so I didn’t think much of it) so to reassure her, I told her I’d check on her throughout the night. She complained of this man for every night for two more weeks when I asked her to describe him to me.

‘He’s real handsome, and wears a black suit. Oh. He’s right behind you now, honey.’

That freaked me the f*ck out. Of course, there was no one behind me. She died the next night in her sleep.” – Anonymous

17. The Blender

“We got a call for a male in his early 30s with ‘heavy groin trauma’ (exact words of the dispatcher). We roll up lights and sirens and the guy is waiting for us on the front step with a towel over his crotch. We barely come to a stop and the guy is already running towards the rig holding this towel. I asked him what was wrong and he moved the towel and this guy’s dick was just barely hanging on. Apparently, he had ‘lady problems’ so he decided to fornicate with the food mixer he had in his kitchen and accidentally turned it on.” – YayShinny

18. The Charred Skin

“Motorcycle driver, accident, third-degree burns, arrived DOA. Had to transfer him from ambulance gurney to ER bed. As we were moving him with a transfer sheet, the liquefied/cooked subcutaneous fat caused the charred skin on his back to separate and his body slipped onto the floor (despite several of us trying to ‘catch’ him).” – Doc-in-a-box

19. Dead Man Moaning

“Worked security through college at a local hospital. The only ‘creepy’ thing I remember is when a dead man moaned. One of my duties was to help wheel patients who had expired down to the in-house morgue. Once we were wheeling an older man from the ER down and halfway down the hallway he let out this low moan. I started to panic, thinking that he was coming back to life but the RN explained to me (newbie) that sometimes the air in the lungs doesn’t come out until sometime later or is delayed for a bit.” – ill_do_it-later

20. Otherworldly Screams

“I have had fellow coworkers swear that strange things have occurred in the ER. Two people that I work with were charting at the nurse’s station when they both heard a scream followed by incoherent words come from one of our open bays. There were three patients in the room and they denied screaming or hearing anything. I have also had fellow coworkers talk about hearing strange voices especially after really bad codes and one person states she felt someone grabbing her shoulder after the doc pronounced a trauma code. These are all respectable people and I do not think they would lie.” – Anonymous

21. Blank Stare

“We got a call to go out to a scene for an elderly woman with chest pains. I arrive at the house, front door is open. We knock, hear the old woman calling out from the back ‘I’m in the back room’ in a very monotone and calm voice. My partner and I go to the back of the house looking for this woman, and that’s when we smelled it. Nothing prepares you for the smell of rotting corpse. I’ve smelled it a dozen times, and it never gets any less disturbing. We radio for police and ALS backup as we move through the house.

We opened the door to the master bedroom, and there is our patient. She is approximately 80, and she is staring at the master bathroom with these cold, dead eyes. She never once looked at us as we approached her and began talking to her. I got to the bedside and got in front of her gaze, and she just looked right through me. I turned around to see what she could possibly be looking at, and there was the source of my smell.

A man, about the same age as my patient, is on the floor with very little left of his head still attached to his body. A shotgun lay on the floor next to him, and most of his head was strewn about the walls and bathroom counter. We loaded the woman up in the ambulance, and our police backup pulled up.

I don’t think that woman blinked once the entire time she was in our care.” – TheFilthiest

22. “Bill’s Here”

“I’m an RN and while I was a student I was caring for a lady who had an end-stage renal failure, had a DNAR (do not attempt resuscitation) and was shutting down. We were having a little chat when she stopped, looked over my shoulder and said ‘Bill’s here love, I’ve got to go,’ and swiftly stopped breathing. Read her old notes and Bill was her deceased husband.” – Jesspandapants

23. The Body on the Floor

“The call was for an older woman, lying in bed. When we get there, the smell is horrendous of a dead body. There are millions of flies everywhere and a little old lady in lying in the bed, alive. About five feet away, there is a body covered up by a sheet. The lady was a dementia patient, and her husband (the deceased) was the primary caregiver. Based on the number of flies and state of decomposition, the police estimated the guy had been dead for about three weeks. The woman must have been getting some food out of the refrigerator, but it was totally empty by the time we arrived.

The creepiest part happened on the way to the hospital with the woman, she said, ‘I hope that nice man on the floor is OK’.” – Tools4toys

24. The Fallen Cross

“I responded to a call where a janitor was dusting quite a large stone cross in the middle of a church. He had been up on a ladder cleaning, when he slipped off, and proceeded to try to hold onto the cross to keep from falling. Unfortunately, the weight of the 200-pound man was too much to support. The cross fell towards him, landing on his left arm, with a part of the horizontal stone of the cross, pushing his muscles and tendons out of his wrist like a squeezed toothpaste tube. Then the cross fell completely on him splattering his brain across the floor. Quite disturbing, and definitely the most horrific and gore filled call I had ever witnessed.” – UpboatOarKnotUpboat

25. The Headless Nurse

“I used to work in St Barts Hospital in London, which in parts is over 1,000 years old. One of the buildings had 2 floors (with massively high ceilings), and so the floors were taken out and rearranged to make into 5 floors. The nurses working night shift would often tell us of the ghost of a night nurse who wandered silently doing her ’rounds’ at night—but due to the new floors, only her head would be visible drifting down the ward.” – jenthejedi

26. Monsters

“I was still a nursing student at the time, but this was from when I had my psychiatric clinical placement in my 3rd year.

I was assigned to a young male patient with schizophrenia. He had been a voluntary admission because he heard voices telling him to hurt people around him, and he admitted himself because he was afraid of actually going through with it.

Anyway, I went into the room alone, as usual, and did the usual introduction and asking how he was doing. He was at a desk drawing creepy, hideous monsters—each monster had its own page, and there had to be at least half a dozen of these pages scattered around him. I asked him what they were. He answered that those were the monsters he saw. They were the monsters that whispered to him and told him to hurt people and do awful things. Guarded, I asked him, ‘Are they telling you to hurt me?’

He answered, ‘Yes.’

I didn’t stay very long in that room.” – duckface08

27. The Man in Black

“People turn batshit crazy and creepy as hell when they get really sick. There’s even a term called ICU psychosis…and trust me, it’s real. Anyway, the creepiest that takes the cake for me is this (am an ICU nurse, btw): Had a patient who was admitted for overdose. Very long history of mental health problems. She was thrashing around in bed, very combative, kicking people’s asses for days, totally incoherent.

Well, the night I had her, she started making decent sense, but still not oriented at all. She was extremely paranoid and kept talking about the man in black in the corner. I’d hear her talking to him and screaming, all night long. So I’d go in there and try to calm her down, but you could see the fear in her eyes. she was talking other nonsense about how she was in space and shit, and with certain patients, you try to redirect their ‘reality,’ but what I did didn’t help. She said ‘that man in black! Don’t you see him!’ and pointed to the corner. I said ‘there’s nobody here.’ I stepped in the corner she was pointing to and waved my hands around. While I’m waving my hands around in the air, she had the most horrifically terrified look on her face that actually scared the shit out of me, like I had just assaulted the man in black. I said ‘see, there’s nobody here’ and she said in a matter-of-factly that’s what you think.’ I promptly got the fu*k out of there.” – HeatherTakasaki

28. Eyes Wide Open

“I work in palliative. Most deaths I’ve seen have been more or less peaceful, though the ones that are not, stick with you. One guy was silently screaming through his last few hours of life. Another guy (who up until this point had been unresponsive) reached up and grabbed me when we attempted to lower his bed to turn him.

One time while doing post-mortem care I walked into the room and thought ‘that’s weird, how come nobody has closed his eyes yet?’ He had that movie-perfect dead look, with pale blue staring eyes and slack jaw and greyish, waxy skin. I closed his eyes and started the care, and when I looked again those eyes, still staring at me, were slowly opening, one slightly slower than the other. He groaned when we turned him to wash his back and his hand managed to clamp onto the bed rail and we had to pry it off. When we finally got him onto his back again, there was a foul-smelling, oily black, viscous liquid on the pillowcase. I cleaned his mouth again thinking it must have come from there, but his mouth and nose were clean. The best I could figure the stuff had come from his eye. I couldn’t wait to get that bag zipped up.” – draakons_pryde

29. Crawling up the Hallway

“I used to work as an STNA in a nursing home. Worked third shift throughout university. During the night we turned half the lights off so it was darker for the evening and didn’t get a lot of light in the residents’ rooms. We had one resident who was younger (70s) and was mostly in for mental reasons. She had long, dark hair and was very thin.

I was sitting at the nurse’s station at the top of the hall and heard a call light go off. I stood up, looked down the dark hall, and on all fours—straight out of The Ring—this resident was crawling up the hall toward me. The other STNA had forgotten to put the bed rail up and the resident was VERY good at climbing out of bed.

Needless to say, I needed some new britches and my heart was racing a mile a minute.” – blameitonthewookie

30. Heaven

“Had a young woman in full liver failure. She was orange in color and she was still conscious. She asked me what I thought it would be like to die. I told her I didn’t know but I hoped it wouldn’t be painful. She then asked me if I thought I would go to heaven. I told her that I believed I would. She asked me if I thought she would go to heaven, and I told her I wasn’t able to answer that question.

She then told me ‘I am going to heaven and I know it,’ and I asked her how she knew that and she told me something that I will never ever forget. She told me ‘I know I am because that man over there told me so.’ I asked what man and she said the man sitting on the end of the bench. I asked her what he looked like and she said ‘he looks just like the Jesus on the windows of my church.’

Well, to tell you I was pretty well affected by that statement. She then went on to say ‘And he says that you are going to go to heaven too.’

We then prayed and I will never forget that interaction between the two of us. About a week later she passed away. I hope she made it to heaven.” – Anonymous

#30 Doctors Nurses and Paramedics Describe their Most Disturbing Medical Stories #shared stories #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits

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kinetic-elaboration · 3 years

Text

September 1: 3x06 Spectre of the Gun

Okay so, it might be a little early to declare myself a S3 apologist, since there are still a lot of eps I’ve never seen, but I feel like I’m pretty close..

This ep was so good!! Honestly I think it’s one of my faves. And perfect to usher in Spooky Season.

Honestly, this show really is my happy place. Just all the characters together on the bridge, on some kinda adventure, looking at weird space buoys and investigating stuff.

Again, this buoy looks like a Windows 98 screensaver.

Kirk keeps referring to Spock as “Science Officer.” Is he mad at him? Full of some particularly intense longing that requires him to put extra distance between them?

Excuse me, you address US as aliens? YOU’RE the aliens.

Hmmm, so it seems they’re not friendly.

It’s addressing them in different languages!!! I love it. Love the reminder that Uhura’s first language is not English,also.

“True telepaths are dangerous.” As opposed to fake telepaths like Vulcans lol?

The Melkotians withdrew immediately. They invented space travel, they saw space, and they said “not for us” and they turned around and left. McCoy would like them; they’d have a lot to gripe about together.

The welcome mat is NOT out.

“Unlike Mr. Scott’s transporter, this unit is not functioning.”

It legit looked like Spock put his hand on Kirk’s back there. Like he clearly raises it, but not far enough to be seen above Kirk, so like.. what was the point? Where did it go?

LEE CRONIN--oh no, flashbacks lol.

“We come in peace”--immediately pulls out gun.

I should have watched this when writing my Western fic.

Just bits and pieces of a Western town... and a completely red sky...

The guns are “crude but dangerous.” If only Sulu were here; he’d love this.

An announcement with a specific time and place on it--that’s a very precise detail to just pull from their minds. Must have come from Kirk’s, that nerd. Maybe Spock. But probably Kirk.

“Because my ancestors pioneered the American frontier.” I mean did they really get to the frontier? Or just... the Midwest?

Maybe it’s actually because he’s a cowboy at heart?

Aliens using his own ancestral sins as the pattern for his own death for breaking their law IS a great (possibly partially unintended) idea. Oh also, if they think that Kirk and co. are here to ‘tame’ or colonize them, then the Western setting makes even more sense--you’re no different from your ancestors, you came somewhere new and brought lawlessness and violence and death, but not this time!

Can you believe Kirk knows all of these details about the OK Corral? NERD.

Spock is so proud of himself for knowing the phrase “had it out.” Look, I used slang correctly!

These are some creative aliens.

“We know death is real here.” Or is it? They’re literally telepaths guys.

Hmmm, this building doesn’t need a roof I think. - The aliens probably

Can’t believe Scotty thinks his usual is his actual usual lol. You’re going to drink bourbon and like it!

Kirk and Spock look so good together.

They’re obviously Chekov’s disapproving parents.

“The day is still young, Ensign.” I don’t remember the exact context of this but Spock is SO judgmental.

What is Kirk doing? This guy is a hallucination; he won’t be convinced by touching some cloth. There’s nothing to convince! He’s only a Concept.

“Have you seen clothes like this?” / “Yes.” / “Where?” / “On the Claytons!” Comedy gold.

Kirk really thinks he can charm his way out of anything. Hmmm, maybe if I just talk nicely to the Earps, they won’t kill us.

“In small amounts, it [bourbon] was considered medicinal.” Lol.

Scotty is becoming a bourbon guy!

“Mr. Chekov is inVOLVed” lol. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?

“A lot of people and things have tried to kill me.” No need to brag.

THAT’S how you make a city limits sign. Put a dead animal skull on top. I live quite close to a city limits sign and I think it could use a cow skull.

Western Cossacks!!

Poisonous snakes and cactus plants. That really distills the Aesthetic down to its core.

This is a good Kirk episode. He’s really being a good Captain: coming up with different ideas, being creative, pushing his crew to brainstorm.

Bones and his tranqs again.

Bones meets his old nemesis: Old Timey Medicine.

Why was Doc Holiday just...chilling in his own dentist chair? (My mom suggested: power nap. Let’s go with that. Power nap + ability for optimally dramatic entrance.)

Also I can’t believe McCoy just goes into this guy’s practice and starts helping himself to all the serious drugs.

Chekov definitely isn’t the marrying kind.

RIP Chekov.

Bones does not sound very sympathetic here. Jim, get over it, he just died, whatever.

And then two seconds later he turns around and tells Spock he’s not sad enough! You can’t win.

“We all knew the risk when we joined the service.”

“My feelings are not a subject for discussion.” !!!!!!! This line!!

“You worked closely with him.” Yes! Chekov is his protege!

“Bones, Scotty, stop bullying Spock.” <-- not an actual quote but it might as well be.

If this were AOS, Spock would already be choking Bones out.

Whoops, no one told Chekov he wasn’t supposed to die!

“Let’s organize! Let’s form an anti-Earp union!”

“I can’t kill them!” he says in a mad rage.

I mean, it is important, though. That’s not what he does.

Kirk is /disgusted/ by lawlessness and frontier justice. What a Rebel TM.

I feel like Bones was waiting for the gotcha moment when Spock compliments him. “Saying nice things about me? That’s not how this relationship works!”

“Nothing can go wrong.” / “Up to now, everything has gone wrong.” He has a point.

That pause before Spock admitted it hasn’t been tested lol--they don’t want to admit it.

“[The bourbon’s] for the pain.” / “But this is painless.” / “You should have told me that before.” The unexpected comedy stylings of Scotty and Spock.

It doesn’t work--guess Spock’s got to take back that compliment now.

“Captain, you don’t understand--they’ve been telepaths the whole time which we already knew!”

“We’re not going to move from the spot.” * is immediately in a different spot * Well I mean at least he’s trying. He’s doing his best!

Love the OK Corral sign also. Weirdly creepy. With its accompanying horse.

Spock doesn’t have any hips for the holster to rest on.

“What did Chekov die of?” / “A piece of lead in his body.” That would do it.

If the tranquilizer should have been effective, does that mean Scotty is actually passed out right now?

Honestly, this is all so spooky. TRUE Western Horror Ghost Vibes.

Also very trippy. If you don’t believe it... it’s not real... some kinda weird chicken and the egg argument regarding our belief in the truth of physical laws idk but it sounds good. Spock brings it home.

Even with the wind whipping around him, Kirk is SO in love. His absolutely adoring expression... So soft...

“Very well, Sir, I’ll meld with you again. Not that I particularly want to. It will be a sacrifice. But I’ll manage. Even though you’re such a dynamic individual haha ha I’m fine I’m cool.”

I feel like Scotty is NOT into the mind meld. He looks terrified. Maybe he should have saved the bourbon for this occasion.

I know the mind meld is supposed to be a replacement for on screen hypnotism...but is this not hypnotism? Like even more than past uses? In this case, Spock is leaving them with suggestions that he wants to continue AFTER the meld, as opposed to, like, efficiently sharing information or giving immediate suggestions. And the scenes themselves are very creepy and...hypnotic.

Kirk’s patented move: WHOLE BODY ATTACK.

Well, we wrapped that up right quick.

Did they... never actually leave the bridge? Or even navigate past the buoy? This actually brings up a lot of questions as to when the aliens started the hallucinations, what their bodies looked like to the rest of the crew, and how they woke up--since there’s obviously been a bit of a time skip, as Bones is already examining Chekov.

Lol at Chekov, saved by horniness. “Nothing but the girl was real to him.”

“A vast alliance of fellow creatures who all believe in the same thing...”

Kirk’s vision of the utopian future is so powerful, he’s effectively gotten the welcome mat put back out.

A personal question? Kirk is intrigued.

Ah, but it’s just another excuse for Spock to be a hypocrite--how did humans survive? How did VULCANS survive? And for the show to remind us of its utopian vision of the future... we will move past violence, we will prove ourselves attractive to and worth of new alien friends.

Then McCoy walks out so Kirk and Spock can have their Moment. He undoubtedly knows what’s up.

So this ep was shown one day before the anniversary of the shootout at the OK Corral AND on Halloween week. It is very much a spooky season episode. So surreal and strange. Ghostly.

I know using sets rather than on location shoots, and not even building whole sets, was a budgetary issue but tbqh I think it worked in the ep’s favor. It added to the alien feeling of it and was an accidentally creative way of showing that these images were pulled from Kirk’s mind.

This felt like a very Classic S1-ish ep to me. I think it’s because Kirk was foregrounded as the Captain/hero and we get to see not just his intelligence and creativity and leadership but also his compassion and his moral core. He IS the values of the series, personified, and that was clear here.

But we also got to see lots of him and Spock, casually working as a pair, and the use of the rest of the landing party crew was very deft also. I loved that there was time to mock Chekov’s horniness, to talk about Spock and Chekov’s professional relationship, to joke around with Scotty, to show more of the Spock and Bones dynamic.

Again, great sci fi concept. I think this would have been another possible inspo for my Pirate AU if I’d seen it in time (although I think I picked a good mission-concept ultimately). I’m fascinated by the Melkotians: who are they? What do they really look like? Do they communicate any other way but telepathically? Are they corporeal? What is their planet like? And most importantly, what experience lead them to be so isolationist? They specifically refer to the aliens as “disease” coming into their home. And it’s when Kirk shows himself to be fundamentally nonviolent even in the face of his own death, they let the Enterprise through.

Basically, I always enjoy hints of alien societies that bring up more questions for me than answers. I love speculating about it.

The next two eps I’ve seen and remember well and I know they’re classics. I’m really looking forward to them!

#the year 2021 #2021: fandom thoughts #2021: star trek #star trek tos

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years

Text

Empires on the Horizon V

Jason is a CEO: Part V

Here’s my masterlist for the next part and my other stuff

But the most beautiful things in life are just not things.

They’re people and places, memories and pictures.

They’re feeling and moments and smiles and laughter.

-unknown

“Charles Beckendorf,” Jason answered the phone with a smile, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hello Grace, how are you?”

“Absolutely wonderful,” And he was, he hadn’t felt so calm in a long time. “What can I do for you my friend?”

“I need your help with the wedding. I’m planning an outdoor structure with video screenings of all our favourite memories and you have two things that’ll make my dreams come true.”

“Anything for you Charlie.”

“The gorgeous meadow on the far side of town, you own that right?”

“Yep, you want to set up shop there?”

“Yes please,” His eagerness carried through the phone, “And can you send me any pictures or videos you have of us so I can add it to the slideshow.”

“Of course, is that all?”

He could hear the excitement in his friend’s voice, “That’s it, unless you know anyone who’s willing to look after the shop while we’re on honeymoon?”

“I can’t say I do but I can ask Hazel to hire a temp if you want?”

“I’ll suggest it to the ladies and tell them to get back to you.”

“Sounds great, and good-luck with the project. I’m excited for the wedding.”

“Me too man, me too. It’s still surreal to me that I’m getting married to my best friends.”

“You deserve the world Charlie.”

“No way, I am crazy emotional these days.” He sniffled.

Jason laughed, “You’re always emotional Beckendorf.”

“Screw you,” He snorted, “See you soon, and thank you again.”

“Bye man, have a good one.”

He ended the call with a smile. It was unbelievable to think he would be going to his friends’ wedding in a couple months. Just the other day he was sitting in a lecture hall laughing at Beckendorf’s impersonation of their business lecturer. Just the other day he was helping Silena and Drew paint the walls of their boutique. It was strange to face the reality that they were all grown up now– moving on with their lives, living them.

“Ready to go Boss?” Hazel’s head popped around the door.

“Yep, you have the files?”

“All in the room already, anything else we need?”

“Maybe some coffee and a miracle?”

“Unfortunately I can only provide one of those things, and it’s not the helpful one.” She gave him an apologetic look.

“Well I guess wish me luck then,”

“You don’t need it Boss, you’re gonna kill it today.”

“What would I do without you Miss Levesque?” He sighed gratefully, walking to the elevator.

“Forget which day of the week it is, and which shoe goes on which foot,” She grinned.

“Hey, the shoe thing was one time.”

“That only works if you’re a toddler, not a grown man.”

“No excuse for the elderly then?”

She shook her head solemnly, “None I’m afraid.”

The elevator doors slid open.

“Meeting Room A5.”

“Let’s do this.” He took a deep breath and pushed the glass door.

“Hello Jason Grace,”

“Hello Octavian.”

Jason always felt some level of life seep out the room when he me with the head of Titan Industries. The man felt…synthetic; chalk white hair gelled down flat and calculating pale blue eyes that missed nothing. Gods even his skin looked unnatural, pasty and veined.

He reached out a small, bony hand in greeting.

“You look as incredible as ever Miss Levesque,” He lifted her hand to his mouth.

She gave him a tight-lipped smile, “Octavian.”

He didn’t seem to notice, or care for her discomfort and simply turned to Jason.

“So,” They sat down, “Have we come to some agreement?”

“With all due respect Octavian I don’t feel this contract is justified.” He glanced between the man and the folder.

There was silence, as if he were waiting for Jason to continue but two could play at this game. He was not willing to be taken for a fool, fumbling over himself to bow to this man’s whims. So he met those cunning eyes, a smile playing at his lips. The only sound was the scratch of Hazel’s pencil as she set up her notes for the meeting.

Moments passed, frozen in time, and then a sigh, “What can I do to ease your concerns?”

He struggled to reel in a smug expression. “Let’s start with the supply times.”

And they went back and forth, pulling and pushing, cunning and stead-fast, a fox and a wolf. Two hours later the contract had been amended to both their liking and they were once again shaking hands.

“I will ask my assistant to send over the revised contract, once my lawyer has looked over it.”

“I will do the same. Thanks for the meeting.” He guided the door open and waited for his guest to move through it.

“Until then, Grace.”

Without waiting for a reply Octavian snapped at his bodyguard and they disappeared down the passage.

“How do you feel about this?”

“There’s something not quite right Hazel, I just can’t figure out his angle.”

“Fully agree,” She shuddered, “He gives me the creeps.”

“Have you managed to find anyone else that could potentially take over this project?”

“Not yet Boss but you will be the first to know when I do.”

“Thanks Levesque, you truly are my saviour.” He gave her a grateful smile.

“Better put that on my gravestone,” She raised a brow.

“Done,” He laughed, “Any other requests?”

“Let’s get subs for lunch. I could do with some bread.”

He shook his head in amusement, “You drive a hard bargain but I’m willing to sacrifice for you.”

“Oh what was your plan Mr big-shot?” She pushed open the door to their offices.

“Today is burrito-bowl day and you know it.”

“I did forget,” She scrunched her nose, “But I’m extra grateful now.”

He snorted at her, ready to give a snarky remark before he was cut off by the shrill ring of his cell phone.

“Talk to me.”

“What’s up Grace, how’s your lunch hour looking?” Leo Valdez greeted.

“Levesque and I are going to get subs at Garden Girl, want to join?”

“I’ll meet you there.” And then he was gone.

“Ever the efficient caller isn’t he,” Hazel chuckled.

“Most days, which is weird since he’s a rambler face-to-face.”

They got to the contemporary restaurant on eighty-fifth avenue, spotting Leo outside.

“Hello,” His smile was wide as he hugged them.

“Who decided to give you a break? Don’t you have lectures right now?”

“Nah,” He grinned, “Guest lecturer teaching my slot this week, so I got two hours free.”

“The beauty of teaching postgrad, I assume?” Hazel asked.

“You know it Levesque!”

“What are we getting?”

“Don’t know about you but I’m getting the ‘Jazz It Up’ sub, got to stick to my New Orleans heritage.”

“Good afternoon my favourite customers? Where’s the rest of the crew?”

Jason smiled brightly, “Hello Katie.”

“Annabeth is at work, she has some big contract finally closing up,” Leo said by way of greeting.

“Frank is doing the security rounds at the office,” Hazel offered.

“Thalia isn’t even in the country right now.” He shrugged

“There’s still someone missing,” She frowned, scanning their faces, “Piper! Where’s the pretty lady?”

“Oh,” Leo winced, “Yea that is a touchy subject.”

Katie gave them a sympathetic look, “Well what can I help you with today? The usual for you Haze?”

They all rattled off their orders and chatted with the owner of Garden Girl while they waited. Jason had met Katie when he was doing business courses for his urban and regional planning degree. Her forest green eyes and bright smile struck him stupid the first time he saw her in their Entrepreneurship and Business Management lecture. He never had the guts to make a move, but it didn’t matter because she had just entered a relationship with Travis Stoll. Now they’re married and expecting a child, as is the latest update.

“How’s Project Hestia going Grace?” Leo asked, pulling out a chair.

“Ugh I’m having a hard time with the outdoor center. I’m not gelling with the contractor, and I don’t know what to do,” He scrubbed a hand down his face.

“I know I can’t ask what exactly is wrong because of legal reasons but what do you need done?”

He motioned to Hazel to explain as he bit into his sub.

“Basically we want to create an outdoor recreation center for the community which includes a gym area, a kids’ area, movies, a park and picnic area, rock climbing, you know the usual.”

“Right that shouldn’t be too hard to draft up,” Dark eyebrows scrunched, “But this guy is what? Trying to fuck you over?”

“Essentially,” Jason nodded, “The problem is we don’t know how?”

“Okay give me the weekend and let me call up some people. I think I know someone who can help.”

His eyes widened, “You are literally the best friend in the entire world. We’ve been looking for weeks, and we haven’t found anyone else who specialises in this.”

Leo squeezed his hand, “I’m not letting you get screwed over, and my buddy would be more than happy to do it.”

“What’s his name?” Hazel had her phone out, the notes app open.

“Harley, he’s was the youngest kid in our engineering course. I think he graduated with his masters when he was like twenty,”

Jason choked, “What?”

“The kid is incredible. He beat us regularly in our weekly electrotech competitions.”

“Well tell him to give us a call and I’ll set up a meeting with Jason next week. We have until next Friday before we sign contracts with Titan.”

“Sounds good,” Leo plucked a pen he kept behind his ear and scribbled something on his hand, “So Jase,” His grin was trouble.

The blonde narrowed his eyes, preparing himself for trouble.

“What happened with you and Percy? Last I heard you were going on a date on Tuesday and then getting married.”

It was Hazel’s turn to choke, and after she recovered smacked her boss on the shoulder, glaring as if to say what the hell did you not tell me?

He rolled his eyes at his best friend, “I didn’t even get his number because I left so abruptly. And anyway I hear he’s dating Reyna now.”

Leo’s hickory eyes widened, “He’s what?”

“Yea I went by the school about a month ago and Nico told me they were dating.”

“How do they even know each other?”

“They met at the school. She was visiting Nico and he was wanted to become a sponsor cause he used to go there.”

“Yea sounds about right, he’s crazy nice.” Leo nodded

“How have I never met him before the dinner?”

“He moves around a lot,” Leo shrugged, “I’ve only met him a handful of times because whenever he’s here he makes a point to visit Annabeth.”

“Well he sounds like an angel,” His assistant mused.

“Looks like one too,” He muttered, “It’s okay anyway cause I uh–“ He scratched the back of his neck.

“Oh my gods,” Hazel’s earthy eyes glittered, “You met someone!”

Leo clapped his hands, a smile as bright as the sun on his face, “Who are they?”

“We’ve been on one date so no making a big deal about it.” He gave them a pointed look, “But Thalia set us up and she’s… wow.”

“Oh you are real caught up, aren’t you?” They raised twin brows at him.

“She’s just indescribable. She’s gorgeous and that’s the least impressive thing about her.”

“Well tell us everything.” Hazel prodded.

“Okay she’s a vet. She has four sisters, but she doesn’t talk to them much. She believes in order, oh it’s glorious. Everything in its space and a plan for everything.” He looked at Leo then, to which his friend flipped him off and then motioned for him to continue.

“She eventually wants to open her own animal clinic. And most importantly she gets along with Thalia.”

“She sounds like a dream Jase,” Hazel squeezed his shoulder, “I’m really happy for you.”

Leo nodded, eyes bright with love, “You deserve some happiness bud.”

“Thank you guys,” He found it hard to breathe as the overwhelming gratitude he felt for his friends swept through his body.

“Valdez, you’re going to the lake cabins in a couple weeks, right?”

“Oh yep,” Leo wiggled his eyebrows, “And guess what?”

“You are not!” He yelled, and then lowered his voice, “You are lying to me right now.”

“Oh gods,” Hazel caught on, “Are you ready? No wait of course you’re ready! When, how, what?”

“I bought the ring a couple weeks ago. We’ve been talking about it for a few months and this just feels like the right time.”

Jason whistled, “My best friends are finally getting married.”

“Oh gods I hope she says yes,” Leo looked a little sick all of a sudden.

“Of course she’s going to say yes. You guys have been inseparable since that first maths lecture when we all went to the wrong class.”

“There’s no way she turns you down, I’ve seen the way you look at each other.” Hazel agreed.

“The way we look at each other?” Leo frowned at her, confusion evident in his face.

“Like you’re the only ones in the room. Like she is the match and you are the striker.”

Jason nodded, “The moment you two locked eyes at the bonfire it was like the universe threaded two strands through the same needle.”

“Well now I’m emotional and feeling much more confident about it.”

They laughed then, getting up to hug each other. Jason felt the world settle, still, slow. The wind whispered softly, and beams of sun caught between them. If nothing else he had this, and he would hold onto it until his bones were dust and his soul was a star once more.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

So many weddings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know, all my channels of communication are open): @lesbian-peanuts

@leydiangelo

@queen-of-demons-and-hell

@msdrpreist

@sparkythunderstorm

@nishlicious-01

@lucyisblue

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