#ive really been struggling with that negative voice in my head lately

[gloomyhearts]

Always by your side || Luke Patterson

Chapter two ~ just look up the sky

people grow together through darkness. does this band will make it without their most important human being.

After years will everything keep the same?

Luke patterson x oc

January 1995

Sabrina came home from school and was on her way to the garage where her favourite human beings have rehearsal before playing at the club the next day. The chords of 'now or never' blasting all the way to the front street. Jumping from her board she ran up the driveway, stopping at the door to catch her breath.

She threw the doors opened as she stepped in.

"Welcome stranger" Luke laid his free arm around her shoulders pulling her in the middle of the room.

"I don't want to push your ego but you're guys becoming better everyday," she pushed Luke's arm away when Alex glanced at them. Sending him an apologetic look.

"Thank you Brie" Reggie sending her a warm smile.

"Just the truth Reg" mirroring his smile she walked over to the couch and sat down. "What songs are you playing tomorrow?" She lay down her hands resting on her stomach. She twisted the ring Luke gifted her last year.

"Now and never is an essential. And then we will see, how's the public, their vibes and so," Bobby explains. Sabrina wasn't a fan of the fourth member to the fact that he's trying to steal Luke the show always ripping his lyrics saying negative words about them and his said words aren't any help either.

"Now or never is a hit boys I really like it"

"You just say that because you're my sister," Alex insisted.

"That's bullshit," she retorted.

"But just try 'Welcome home,'" Sabrina suggests.

"But there's a piano part," Luke remarked.

"Don't mind me sitting down here," Sabrina points to the keyboard and sat behind it.

She began to play the beginning chords as Alex softly hit on his drum.

Feeling high always chasing the light.

Calming down when everything's loud.

Adrenaline rushing through my body,

My heart beats for moment like these.

Luke plucks his guitar farster, the drums getting louder and the boys began to scream.

In the dark

We're jamming from our hearts

No regrets

Blood rushing through my head

Welcome home

Always grateful for you

The cheers

Echoing through my head

The keyboard was facing the band giving Sabrina the chance to study their emotions. Luke's eyes always laying on her even as he's walking between the other two guitarist.

Hours to go but always thinking 'bout you

Seeing you in the crowd

Brings ache to my heart.

But this band's like homeee.

Sabrina sung quietly in background every word of the lyric when her favorite passage was to come.

Some chase the fame and lose themselves

But with you I'm being grounded

Flying high and blasting through the sky

Would never feel the same without you

Their eyes glaring at her when she was the only one singing this phrase, the boys astonished by her voice froze in tracks. Her eyes narrowed to keep on playing their instruments.

Seconds later the music started again.

Welcome home

Always grateful for you

The cheers

Echoing through my heart

Welcome home

Always grateful for you

The cheers

Echoing through my heart

The chords slowly dying as Alex hit his ride a last time.

"This was spectacular" he jumped in front of his drums.

"This is.. Will you have to join the band" his hands now resting on her upper arms, shaking Sabrina lightly.

Shaking her head she just laughed. "You know I wouldn't, Lexi" she began to thickle his abdomen as he removes his hands.

Reggie agrees to Alex nodding his head steady.

"Think about it Brina" Luke spoke smirking.

"I'll think about it" the corner of his mouth turned up. He stretched his hand in front of her as she grabbed it he squeezed it slightly.

He dragged her closer by shoving his arm to his body, he leans down to her and whispers. "You smell nice today" her cheeks turning red as turned away to cover her up. Alex observes it critical.

"I've got to go. Don't stay up too late," she calls after the group. She waves to the boys when she walked out of the door Luke hold open.

Skateboarding down the main street the sky a mild orange and yellow as the sun; already dotted with stars. Sabrina was almost in her friend's street as a jolt threw her down her board she even flew a few yards; hitting the ground with a loud thud and sliding a bit more. Her skin now cluttered with abrasions on her left side. She pressed on her upper arm trying to stop the blood

The blonde girl lay on the cold pavement surrounded by tourists and pedestrians. Eyes glaring on her staring at her wounds, some chatters whereas she couldn't understand it.

In the distance she heard sirens over her loud sobbing; a wave of relief and hope floating through her tired body.

She was lifted into the ambulance and they start to drive to the hospital.

At the arrival of the car they rushed to the emergencyroom. Shifting her into a bed before taking her to the tests.

The first nurse pushing a needled for the IV into her hand when she saw her naked hand sadness overcame her.

"The..the ring" she stutters.

"There was no ring" the paramedic explained dry and shrugged his shoulders. She lost her consciousness right after.

A steady beeping was the only noise in the room. Her body covered with wires plugged into machines for her vitals. A nurse entered as she saw Sabrina opens her eyes.

"Hello dear. Great to see you. So what's your name?" she sat down next to the bed.

"Brie" she struggles to breath.

"Slow. Take your time," the nurse soothed. Sabrina's hand slightly shakes as she tries to imply. "You wanna write?" The blonde just nodded.

Writing has always helped me.

"There you go"she handed her paper and a pen.

Sabrina Willow Mercer. It wasn't her best writing but readable.

"Got this." The nurse grabbed the paper and left.

She left her three empty papers, so she began to write with all the power she has left.

Minutes later the woman came back reassuring she reached someone at home. A single tear escape her eyes as she quietly sobs. What if this are here last breaths and no one of her family was here she'd do everything to hear their voices one last time. She remembers the rehearsal hours ago.

"Your mom said she is on her way after calling your dad and collecting your brother." Laying her hand on Sabrina's arm her thumb rubbing an unscathed spot. The girl in the bed mouthed a 'thanks'.

What felt like hours of waiting her mother and the blonde boy ran into her room.

"Baby" her mom threw her body down next to the bed grabbing her hand.

"Will" Alex stumbled towards the bed reddish eyes staring at her.

"She's going to be alright, right?" He turned to the nurse.

"That's not mine remit sir" she left.

Alex softly moving next to her in the bed. "We'll make it. We always do" he pressed a kiss on her temple pulling her into his side.

Their mother started whimpering remembering what the nurse told on the phone. She gave Brian's hand a small kiss holding it near to her heart. Alex was this situation suspicious. He sniffed her scent in; the ocean breeze.

"Lex.." Sabrina's voice broke halfway.

"Psst. Let me hold you" he pressed her tighter into his side.

The girl hold the letters over to him. "When I... when I die.." the siblings whimpered in sync.

"These are for you, mom and dad and Luke" his name gave him a flashback to Luke's reaction as Alex rushed out of the garage running towards their car and leaving without a word. Luke didn't moved since then.

"Call him" she pointed towards the door giving him a resuring smile.

Minutes past when Alex walked back in. "He's coming" he took his spot again laying his arm around her shoulder.

"You sure about this?" He raised the letters and she nodded.

The shaggy haired boy arrived as Sabrina was sleeping in Alex arms. "She's alright right?" He questioned and the blonde boy shakes his head much to his dislike.

"I talked to the doctor they gave her maximally a week" his thumb brushes the tears away. "If they find a donor.." he sobbed thinking about a life without this sunshine.

"That's not true. It can't. She's so young" Luke's body fell into the chair. The Mercer mom left an hour ago.

Luke intertwined their fingers bringing her hand up to his forehead. He felt a light pressure on his hand and looked up at Sabrina. A small smile on her lips. "Hey gorgeous" he didn't cared if Alex was still with them.

"You're going to be alright. We'll find a way Brina," Luke whispers, his voice shaking.

The next day Sabrina woke up to two boys sleeping with their heads on her bed, quiet snorts escaping their mouths.

She wanted to let them sleep they need it. Flashbacks from last night crashing onto her.

The boys refused to play tonight but she insisted that's their chance, there always managers who could sign them.

'Just let it go',

'we're not leaving you here, alone.'

'don't let this chance die because of me' she retorted. As she mentions the word 'die' the time stand still, the air around them getting cold, their eyes not daring to look at her.

"Morning Will" Alex greets, his voice just above a whisper; his hand sliding through his hair trying to smooth it.

"Hey" she tried to smile.

"How are you feeling?"

"Greatest I've ever been" she sarcastically said, rolling her eyes.

The siblings laughed the first time since the whole accident. Luke awoke to them laughing and his muscles eased a bit. Seeing them relieved, laughing, this gives him hope, hope she'll survive this.

"Morning there sweetie" Alex says towards Luke who rubbed his eyes in the process of waking up.

"Morning" he yawns and stretched his arms up.

"I'm getting breakfast any wishes?" Alex stands up and began to sneak to the door.

"Pancakes" his sister calls after him.

"We're not in a hotel" he shakes his head in disbelief. The three of them erupting in laughter.

"A coffee, please" Luke adds.

Alex was out the door so Luke took the chance to climb up into the bed. His arm resting around her shoulders. Her head resting on his shoulder and his head on hers.

"I can't do this tonight without you, Brina." his voice a shaking whisper.

"Of course you'll rock this, all of you. Do it for me P." Sabrina turned on her side and rested her head in his chest, hearing his heartbeat calmed her. His right hand plays with a strand of her wavy hair. Unfortunately one of his rings gets tangled in it.

"Ouh" exclaimed the girl reaching for his hand and slowly puts his hand in front of her face. Thank God her hair is long that this is possible.

"Keep still" Sabrina points out.

She took the ring off of his finger and entangled it from her hair. Luke watching her moves closely. She let out a small chuckle.

"Where's your ring" he grabs her hand finding the naked spot around her index.

"I've must lost it. The paramedic said he hasn't found anything" the corners of her mouth dropping down, she sighed.

"No problem. I'll find it" Alex enters the room again with their drinks in his hands and a chocolate chip muffin. He reached the bed and hand them their orders.

"Can I have a bite" she made puppy eyes which always convinced him.

"Fine" he exhales holding it in front of her. Taking a large bite she smile without teeth; making kissing sounds to thank him.

The boys left around lunch due to her following tests but Alex dropped in minutes after she was pushed out of her room bringing her journal and her pencil case. Arriving back and seeing the utensils she smiled and began to write down her thoughts, forming poems and wisdoms.

Sabrina's view laid on the clock at it hit 7pm which means their show begins right now, she wishes to be there seeing them relieved and freed, dancing over the stage having fun with each other.

"Hello guys we're sunset curve" Luke was interrupted by Reggie's 'tell your friends'

"We want to dedicate this night for a special one who couldn't be here today" his mood darken slightly.

They began to play the chorus to 'now or never' and the people radiate the same energy as the band. The crowed danced to the words the band sings.

The song came to an end and Luke exchanged glances with the other guys, nodding their heads they were ready to jam 'Welcome home'.

Mid song Luke stopped singing and stared into the void. He lost his focus, frozen without her; that's when it hits him like a train it wasn't just a silly crush, he loves her.

Tears began to build in his eyes as he tried to focus back on the music.

When the last chords were played he ran out of the bar and to the place Sabrina told him she had the accident.

Earlier the day he didn't find the ring, the probability to find it now is zero but he didn't would give up until he held it in his hand.

Luke arrived to a jumbled room, nurses running in and out same as doctors. Loud chattering and beeping of machines. He rushed into her room, Alex already sat by her side. He grabbed her other hand holding it and squeezing it constantly. Sabrina tried to sat up, her hands trying to escape their grip. They all lean in closer, heads now in the middle of the bed.

"Just look up the sky. I'm the brightest star guiding the way. Watching you. Always by your side" her hands resting on each of the cheeks from Luke and Alex. Luke takes her hand and puts the ring back on her index, she slowly proceeded the gesture and it takes all her power to sent him a heartwarming smile but it didn't reached her eyes too tired.

"I love you" Sabrina's hands falling lifeless onto the bed. The machines now with a monotonous sound and a flat line. Tears streaming down their checks. Holding her hand not able to proceed that’s she’s gone, forever

#jatp fanfic #luke patterson fic #luke x oc #jatpluke #luke patterson fanfiction #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #jatp x oc #charlie gillespie fic #charlie gillespie fanfiction #luke patterson #julieandthephantomsimagine #jatp luke #luke patterson x oc #jatp fic #luke julie and the phantoms #luke patterson x reader

[skittles1229]

Old Expectations Die Hard (Dashie x Reader Fanfic)

Chapter One: Weird Circumstances

You know your life is complicated when the friend you always complain to says "you never have a dull moment do you?" I sigh as the weight of the world seems to make it impossible to breath. You see recently things have been rough. I lost my job and my fiance all in the same day, that itself was an unbelievable story. I was so upset and strung out on thoughts of what to do that once i got home early from work i didn't notice the extra car in the driveway. i stepped into my home and my own floors felt as if they'd given way when i saw the guy i thought i'd be spending my life with in bed, with my sister... my sister and i hadn't been on good terms for a while and for a good reason! The drugs she took either made her unreliable and selfish or crazy and murderous. He, of course, pulled the its not what you think, id never hurt you, it was a mistake, and honestly i could write a book out of the excuses i heard in the time of two minutes but maybe another time. Needless to say i left. I never thought about going back and to be honest my sister looked more hurt then i was. I took a job in California a few weeks ago and moved in with my friend (BFF Name). They always seemed to know what to say and honestly i truly believe They  knew me better then i know myself. 

California gave me the biggest culture shock I've ever had. I came from Mississippi, the bible belt and the most rural part of the world. California was sooooo different then what i was use to. The weather is awesome. There's lots of jobs for technical people, at least until you're 45 and then you're considered ancient and you can't possibly know anything when some 23-year old out of Stanford tells you that they know it all. (a little bit of sarcasm there) It's a great place to start a new company, money is available as is talent. The risk of starting a company is lower since you can always find a new job The politics are insane, if you aren't towing the progressive party line you should just STFU. If you even once say that Trump has done something positive, or that Obama did something negative prepare for the wrath. Read the stuff behind the recently filed lawsuit against google for a taste of what it's like. Seriously, don't say a word. The state if structurally bankrupt, although the finances look good because so much stuff is off of the balance sheet. The public pension liability dwarfs the "good" part of the budget, and some day it is coming home to roost. Watch out when it does. The cost of living is absurd, really absurd. I'm not talking just a place to live but gas, electricity, haircuts, milk, pizza, you name it. The traffic is absurd too. (can you tell i like the word absurd) The public transit, although usually on time, is a mess. People are pigs, they throw trash everywhere, the cars are overcrowded almost all the time. 

I've got to say, from how much it sounds like i hate California, i actually don't.  Mainly because its so far away from my original family, leaving really helped me start to grow up and feel like maybe i was getting a hold of my life again. Only problem has been getting to my new job on time. I work as a barista and a waitress at a brunch place a good minute away from the apartment. The money is good, otherwise i wouldn't waste my time with the commute everyday. i keep being late to work because i still haven't adjusted to how terrible traffic is and so my boss was "nice" enough to switch me to the later shifts. The hours are long and boring because my shift starts in the middle of rush hour to the slowest hours at the end of the day meaning you have to find things to keep yourself busy with. the only good thing is, we can wear pretty much anything we want as long as its black. all i wear is dark colors so i didn't have to spend any extra money on a uniform and i didn't have to wear the same thing everyday. Today i decided i wear a v-neck shirt that with an emperor waist (body forming) with black skinny jeans and my regular converse. i decided against driving to work and decided it would be far smarter to catch a bus to the nearest destination. My (hair color) hair was done is a fishtail messy braid, i always liked this style because it made me look like i had a head full of hair when in reality i thought i was going bald. 

My personality was a little odd, you see some days i felt like the beautiful nerd who has no confidence and wants to hide away in a hole. other days i feel like a model from Victoria secrets, of course those are the days i get the most tips. today was honestly a mutual day, where id rather be at home in my bed asleep, or listening to music. The bus finally stopped a block away from my job and i sighed obviously not wanting to go into work. surprisingly there wasn't nearly  as many cars as there usually is around this time but i wasn't complaining. i walk in to see that most of the downstairs was empty but whoever was upstairs definitely had a loud mouth. i walk to the back in order to clock in and i bump into melany ( the girl im shifting with). "wow you actually got here on time! Maybe the boss's mood will cheer up." i huffed a little. "yea, i dont know why i thought id need a car in California, say whats with the low level of customers? its NEVER this slow." she looked at me in disdain, "some guys reserved the entire upstairs and we had to make this huge table out of all our tables up there, glad im not gonna be the one fixing it later." i rolled my eyes, i hated when a huge family came in and they just had to move everything around because little johnny wants the sit next to suzzie and suzzie HAS to sit by her parents bc she likes to throw her food on the floor, all fake names but a real situation ive been in before. "well have they at least been fed so that i only have to clean up after them?" she shook her head while hanging up her apron. "nope, they've only ordered their drinks and they are getting those onto trays now." so today was gonna be like every other day. "guess i better go help them take those upstairs then, have a good rest of your day." i walk away and slip on my apron, grabbed one of the trays of drinks while another waiter grabbed the rest of the drinks. Once i got upstairs, that's when i met him...

Chapter Two: Last Will and Testament

          He was sitting on the far end of the long table of people laughing and joking. everyone seemed to be loud and all had their own inside jokes. This guy, he stuck out. i changed my attention to the task at hand, finishing this shift. i hated when people moved all the tables and seating around. all the waiters and waitresses have to go back behind them and look at the layout of the floor to put them all back exactly as they were before. it was a struggle and because of this nobody actually wanted that job so usually the manager gives it to her least favorite workers and i happened to be one. "who all had coke?" nobody answered me so one of the men bellowed out the same line and somehow was able to get a show of hands. i walked around handing  out drinks, catching the lingering smell of strong liquor. i could tell by the end of tonight they would all be wasted and loud. please, just don't make more of a mess then you have to, i thought to myself. i had one drink left on my tray, "sweet tea?" the guy i saw before at the end of the table waved his hand and i dreaded going over there, i always seem to make a fool of myself when it matters. 

     i make my way slowly down the table with the tray under my arm and the tea in my hand. i lean over to sit his drink on the table.."here's your t-" *CRASH* while joking with one of his friends his elbow crashes into my hand sending the tea flying all over me and the cup crashing to the floor, thank god i wore black. he turned around and looked more horrified then i did. "i'm sorry! i'm so sorry!" his voice was deeper then i imagined it'd be. "no, it my fault i'm sorry ill get you a new one." i turned away to hide my embarrassment and walked away really just trying to get away from the situation. i could tell from the silence behind me that all eyes were on me. i ran to the back where the lockers were for the service. i went to the bathroom and stripped the sticky clothes off throwing them aside. i sat on the toilet  trying to catch my breath, my social anxiety had struck me  hard. a feeling of worthlessness and dread fell over me like a blanket. after the past few months i've had just one day without something terrible happening would mean the world to me. i heard a knock on the door, it was melany, she walked in with a towel from the kitchen. "hey, i heard what happen upstairs are you ok?" i covered my breast trying keep myself as unexposed as possible. "oh yea im fine, im just cold, and sticky, and... covered in tea." melany and i made eye contact and both laughed just to lift the dread in the air. "let me guess, all the guys are getting a kick out of watching me fumble again huh?" i said a little less concerned and more annoyed. she rolled her eyes "they are boys, they get a kick out of picking their own nose. we both slid to the floor beside each other, she hands me the damp towel. i get most of the sticky off as possible, throwing my hair up to make it look less clumped together by the sugar. "i have an extra black t shirt in my locker but i don't know how it will fit you. your breast are at least a size larger then mine." i shrugged my shoulders, "who cares ill make do. thanks for your help melany." she smiled her weird anime girl smile and ran to get the shirt from her locker.

     ill have to admit, she was right about the size thing. it was far to small around the chest area but the rest fit fine. after the incident my boss stuck me down stairs wiping tables and sweeping the floor, i dont mind though because i get to experience the day coming to an end with a beautiful sunset over California. i secretly kept the the window to watch as the sun fell from the sky. the sky seemed to burn and darken while the clouds began to glow with the last bit of sunlight left. the sky filled up with burning Burgundy and faded orange and yellows, the tallest buildings seemed to reach for the skyline as if it were a sunflower moving to the last drip of sunlight. moving here had been hard, and this had become one of the things i looked forwards to. living in the apartment with my friend was nice, buts its not the same as coming home to someone you use to lay with every night. sleeping alone seemed so much colder and emptier then i remembered from childhood. my mother would be so disappointed in the way i turned out, in the places id gone and the decision to spend my life with someone who was most obviously the wrong one. she would have told me to slow down and to take my time, that growing up wasn't everything. she would have said love isn't something you just wake up and have, its something you make. i wasn't anywhere close to where i thought id be by now, and i could see that. it tears at my heart everyday, not being able to see her or any of my family. sometimes it felt as if they'd all died in the fire that night. 

     i suddenly heard a boom of voices making their way down the stairs, i hadn't realized how close to closing time it had become. all of them walk out stumbling and laughing at their own jokes, seems they all got a good bit of drinking in, all except one. The guy i ran into on accident seemed as sober as ever, designated driver i think, he was much taller now. he seemed muscular but in such a fitting way for his body. his teeth sparkle because their so white, his smile complimented him best. his high cheekbones made his chocolate brown eyes his best feature. His skin was glowing with a sweet honey hue and before i could notice that i was staring he turned his head. his eyes met mind before i could think twice and that's when i felt the heat rise to my cheeks. weather it be from embarrassment or silly school girl shyness i didn't know . i turned my face away but it was too late, i turned my face a little just to catch a glimpse of him before he made his way out of the door and that's when i noticed his cheeks had gone from a burnt caramel to a rosy color. i felt my body shiver at the thought that maybe, just maybe he found me as attractive as i found him. i shook the thought from head realizing they had began locking the place down. as i helped close up shop and wash dishes i couldn't help but to let my mine wander to all different kinds of thoughts, funny thing was they always fell back to him and his rosy  cheeks. i couldn't help but smile as i felt my heart race at the thought of him, even though id made a fool of myself today i was glad i hadn't ruined my chances. Even if he'd never get with me or i wouldn't ever see him again, i'd still take it as a compliment that he even looked my way. 

     before long we were all outside laughing and talking about today. The manager locked the doors and said his goodbyes. i turn to walk towards the bus station when i see a man standing aside awkwardly between the restaurant and the parking lot. suddenly my eyes adjusted and once they did, the joyousness butterflies came back and the blush suddenly reappeared on my cheeks..

There are lots more chapter after this if you are interested you can find them here

https://my.w.tt/sosFRmianbb

#dashiegames #dashiexp #dashie x reader #fanfictions #fanfic #self insert #romance

[empressxmachina]

Sideline - “iv.”

“Uh, h-hi, Jake.”

Just by looking at each other, they both knew the same opinion was going through their heads:

‘This was fucking weird.’

Despite that, neither of them lost sense of their humanities, and Madi didn’t appear physically hurt as a cherry on top. They solely changed sizes comparatively and nothing else, as far as they could tell. But for the smaller half of the pair to get even tinier at such a large scale was ridiculous, more than either of them ever imagined. Nevertheless, they tried to keep it together for both of their sakes.

Jake slowly continued to unravel Madi from her textile prison, eventually smoothly transferring her from fabric to flesh and feeling her skin and scarily little weight on his palm. The visual of his long fingers towering above and able to curl over her was also quite nauseating. But chundering by a friend, especially one as close to him as her (in every sense), would not be a good look.

For this to happen to someone as sweet as her and it being possible at all just made him sick and confused.

“Holy shit, Madi,” he breathed, blowing her hair back with his voice. For once in his life, he was glad to have chosen water over a soda earlier. Even if it wasn’t the same kind – the one Madi had wasn’t a favorite of his from the get-go – spreading anything across her that would drill this in her more than it already had would’ve shot his already high guilt and pity further into the sky. “How in the fuck—?”

“Ugh, do I really need to explain this again!?” Madi exploded, now second-guessing her assumptions of Jake’s intelligence. Perhaps he was more the jock stereotype than she thought with the flinching and look of astonishment by which he reacted to her, both of which shaking her as well. “What part of ‘A fucking soda did this to me’ did you not understand? If you didn’t get that, then why in fuck did you pull that shit? Did you really just want to get it off me? Did you think you’d get me off by getting it off me? Did you make me wet to get YOU off!?”

“Jesus Christ, Madeline. Chill,” Jake shushed her in a fruity voice, putting his snake-like finger up to his mouth before bringing it close to hers – his fingertip eclipsing her entire head. “I know the fucking soda did this to you; I want to know why. What kind of chemical makes people shrink and shit?” Madi couldn’t help cringing, curling into herself, having overreacted for no reason. However, her cowering soon became a cover for the blushes that Jake then caused to appear. “As for the, uh, ‘getting off,’ you’d have to be some kind of freak to get off to a doll or, I guess, being a doll, in your case. Though I’ve got to say, you are pretty adorable, Mads.”

“Please, no,” she pleaded, slumping her shoulders with her face still in hiding, knowing that her smallness was now a large part of her, despite how much she wanted it to be otherwise. “I know I probably don’t look so human, but I’d still like to be treated like one, ass wipe.”

“‘Look’ is just the tip of the iceberg. I’m not the biochemist here, but I think I know enough science to know that you shouldn’t even be functioning fully: talking, hearing, seeing, and all of that good shit.” Jake brought his Madi-holding hand closer to himself as he extended his syllables and examined her in astonishment. “What. The. Fuck?”

Meanwhile, Madi instinctively scooted further and further into the flesh wall Jake’s fingers made behind her, even though she couldn’t go anywhere else without falling to her demise and knew it, too. The thought of being overtaken by his battering ram nose or brushed by his enviable eyelashes without him even trying was just too much for the little lass.

“Yeah, uh, could you, like, not with that? ” she attempted, nearly meeting the stubble surrounding Jake’s lips and chin before he looked down at her, noticed her apprehension, and backed off, bringing her to a somewhat distant, somewhat calming eye level. “Thank you. Being comparatively short to most people in normal life was hard enough, even though I was supposedly average on charts. The last thing I need now is a close-up, okay?”

“Right. Sorry,” Jake apologized, even noting to talk more sotto voce.

Just because she wasn’t flinching at his volume for whatever reason, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t still loud. Sure, the packed stadiums and arenas for games and competitions with their high volumes probably set a standard for her, but Jake knew that this could’ve been another type of noise, and then one could add all the nonsense the body does on its own to make it even louder and more detailed. He wondered how much she could hear and see now.

“It just makes no sense how you’re like this,” he reinforced. “You’re fucking minuscule.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Madi scoffed back, also lowering her own voice but still audible to the relative giant’s ears. “I think that’s been stated enough.” Her tough outer shell hid how hard the truth just kept hitting her. Seeing nearly all her curled-up frame in her reflection in Jake’s eyes was almost vomit-inducing, especially when he rolled them in response to her sass.

“Yeah, but do you really know how tiny you are? Do you know what could happen to you like this or what could’ve happened? Hell, I don’t even know how that fucking phone of yours called me,” he said, lightly nudging it out of Madi’s grasp onto his palm next to her, somehow also muting it in the process. “I can barely see the thing. I could barely see you by that can. But I did, so everything’s pretty much going in your favor so far, huh?”

“How about no? I’m still like this, and it’s not like I didn’t already have enough stress going on in my life.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s a way to fix this, probably one as quick and obtainable as whatever in that drink caused this. We need to get you out of here, first.”

“And, exactly how did you plan on doing that?” Madi pondered aloud, noticing how Jake had nothing with him, aside from his clothes.

“Oh, uh, er—” Jake struggled to come up with an answer as Madi’s scenario hadn’t been a possibility that he had or would’ve considered. Since these were the cards he was dealt, he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “Shit, what are we going to do?”

“‘We?’ Why are you asking me? Jake, you know I can’t do anything! Look at me!”

“Don’t blame me for that! This is a two-way street, and you could’ve fucking warned me about this!”

“Are you saying that you would’ve believed that a fucking soda fucking shrunk me to…” Madi paused to estimate her new size. Through all the time she had had to adjust to it, figuring a number for it never came to mind. However, remembering how much of a mountain Jake was to most people, she soon realized that basing her little length on his large one was futile. “…whatever size I am now? You barely believed that I was here full-sized when you walked in! What the fuck would you have done differently!?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe brought a fucking bag or some shit?” Jake countered. “You didn’t need to open the fucking soda, Madi!”

“Are you blaming me for this!?” Madi shrieked, not wanting more negativity placed on herself. She ran her hands through her hair before setting them on her face and continuing, muffled, “What did I do to deserve this!?”

“This wouldn’t have happened, otherwise, would it!?” Jake barked back before immediately regretting what he said – it made evident by his elongated face and Madi’s trembling. “No, I-I didn’t mean that. Well, I kind of did but not to hurt you. This… This is just crazy, alright? I don’t even get why a recalled drink was even still available to you so late in the game, literally.” He then attempted to console her, curling his free hand directly behind her back as an assuring gesture, mostly because he was sure anything else would damage her. “I know you did nothing wrong. This probably could’ve happened to anyone, and don’t you worry. This will pass, and, just like you wanted, I’ve got you.”

Although she was unsure of whether or not that was meant to be an apology, Madi pulled her hands away at his sweet remarks, and for the first time since they had first met, she saw Jake with not only beauty but also novel capability. He hadn’t been so profound with her since their one class together way back when. Any overshadowing thoughts she had about him being a typical jock went right out the window, and she had never felt more blessed to have a friend.

However, she wasn’t as appreciative of his following comments, and the smile that shined on her face soon vanished.

“But, really, how do you want to do this?” Jake inquired. “I ask because I, uh…” He paused with a groan, not sure how to explain himself without making their scenario any more dramatic than it already was. “…I have one idea, but I think any of yours would probably be better.”

Madi, having watched him remove the hand behind her and slide it down from his nose to his chin, sensed that his something, whatever it was, might be bothering him but couldn’t tell why or be sure. Yet, knowing that the time without being noticed by nasty Nash outsiders was running out, she just went with it.

“Okay?” she accepted cautiously. “Well, I really don’t want people to know about this, so the safer and more hidden I am, the better.”

Jake attempted to hide his discomfort with her answer. His idea had technically aligned with her wants, but he had this feeling that she was not going to like it one bit.

“Alright,” he could only sheepishly respond. “Well, um, you’re the science major, so you, er, go on and figure out what’s best for you, whatever you want to do.”

“Sure.” Her reply was positive, and now she was just as positive that Jake had not only a bother but a problem. Another big problem within her oversized insanity; how wonderful. But rather than letting it boil over, she let it simmer in her subconscious, followed his suggestion, and began thinking of places to hide with him.

It took an uncomfortably short period to realize hiding with him more so meant hiding on him. Madi managed to keep a cringe inside and prayed Jake’s notion had nothing to do with that via some trap card out of his ass. Still, despite her ingenuity, she couldn’t think of one, and, like with all those math proofs from last year, she could only work with what she was given. In any other circumstance, having Jackson Averill at her will would be a dream, but the fairy-like femme floated in a nightmare… or purgatory… whichever was worse.

No possible, present view gave Madi a full vision of what or, more validly, who to plan from. He was so much to take in at once, so she asked to better see it all.

“Um,” she beckoned, “can I check out the vehicle provided for me?”

Initially, Jake didn’t catch her drift, but it didn’t take him long to click and nearly blush at her wording. It wouldn’t be the first time she called him a ride, and while this was something else, her maintained humor was a relief.

He gave her in return a prying smirk as if to ask ‘How?’, and all Madi had to do back was a couple of motions for him to become a model. She fluttered her hands his way to get him to back up, stopping when he reached the end of their row of benches. A lowering motion then directed him to set her down on said end bench. Words couldn’t describe her gratitude in knowing that if her voice or any tiny sounds she made went inaudible to his ears or any normal-sized ones were too much for her, then they would still be able to communicate somewhat.

If he stayed alert for her. God forbid him from getting distracted.

As she shook that fear out of existence, and once she and her things were gently set onto the hard surface, Jake gave her a bit more space and took a few more steps backward so that she could see him all at once. With her new perspective, really trying to not depress herself over her lack of creaking and noticeable shadow on contact, her primal instincts kicked in, unable to handle the visage of an Adonis in front of her.

Like his facial features, the years of football and weight training had done wonders for his physique. While Madi had already seen sides of him that only a few were blessed enough to observe, seeing their outlines and envisioning them bare and visible at this scale gave her chills.

Madi gestured for Jake to spin around to check if he genuinely had no pockets. Upon one rotation, especially with his phone snapped to his pelvis under his waistband, she sadly confirmed her hypothesis with a sigh – a bitter contrast to the gasp she gave to the sight of his global glutes. He truly lived up to his tight end position in and out of sports, and Madi would need a thesaurus made for a postdoc to describe his front side. The things his body had done to hers were incomparable to present possibilities, and she didn’t know how to feel.

Little did she know that Jake was pondering the same thing.

When the giant jock came back around from his turn, rather than seeing an inquisitive Madeline, he found a disgruntled one instead, and the smug look on his face fell off. Jake could only figure that her suspicions had finally meshed with his, and thus he slowly crept up and knelt on one knee before her to not frighten her even more.

“Have you come up with anything?” he asked timidly, resting his forearms on his level thigh.

“Only if your teammates aren’t as rowdy on a bus ride as they are on the field,” Madi remarked, looking up at him in bittersweet wonder, knowing fully well that if someone shook him around while she was on his person, then she’d be in deep shit. “What chance do I have of getting back to Kingston alive if I went under your hat or by your collar or something?”

“Uh, well, if we had lost tonight, I’d guess 75% or so?” Jake calculated, rubbing his chin in thought. “No one would probably want to talk about it, and they’d keep to themselves unless Coach decided to bag on everyone, which would only get them even more in their feelings.”

But they didn’t lose. If Madi hadn’t been following the score while caring for Cari, the Knights’ sore losers’ chaos she ran through that erupted afterward was enough of a tell on its own, and the look on Jake’s face made her brace for the celebratory yikes that was likely the Royals on their side.

“But the bus was lit as all fuck when I left it,” Jake continued, “and I can already envision Coach or Big Q tousling my hair or Chad going in for a chest bump once I get back. Hell, he gave me three on the field after my scoring play alone, so, uh, I’d rather not risk it.”

“Well, fuck!” Madi cursed herself, kicking her bag off her ledge in anger. Luckily, Jake was watching her every move intently and moved quickly enough to catch it. Otherwise, they both would’ve most likely forgotten it there for some soul to find, trash, or worse. He was even kind enough to carefully put her fallen clothes and phone in it for her, feeling less like storing doll accessories and more like spice sprinkling than his liking. Madi, meanwhile, was fuming too much to notice. “You might as well give me your idea, then,” she succumbed. “We don’t have much time for much else.”

“You know this could’ve been a lot easier on both of us if you had just let me bring backup,” Jake reminded her, setting her bag back down next to her and hoping to God that she’d just let him call someone for help.

“Don’t try to diverge from this by bringing up something you had control over – still have control over,” she countered, crossing her arms and cocking her head to the side. As sweet as his situational submission of silence was, she couldn’t physically stop him from doing anything if she tried. Not that she could before, but she definitely couldn’t now. “I saw you fumbling with yourself about something, and if it’s about this, then it can’t be much worse than what I’m already going through, right? Just lay it on me, dude.”

Jake sighed at her relentlessness, recognizing that she still had so much force, so much determination, even with such diminutive dimensions. She had moxie, and he liked that. He liked it so much that he was willing to put her wishes over his own and keep her new look a secret, for now, despite how dumb doing so actually was.

“Can you just promise me to not say anything until I explain it fully?” Jake hoped with a defensive slump and scrunching face. “It’ll make sense with the backstory… probably.”

If one could even call it that, his preface wasn’t much, and the time to ponder it was slim to none. But Madi hadn’t yet a reason to not trust his judgment – the calamity with the cleaners was questionable but not totally repulsive – thus, she shrugged, expressing her tolerance.

Like her with him previously, Jake knew that he wasn’t going to get better out of her, and so he began. “Okay. I have an idea, and, frankly, it’s some divine intervention or some bullshit how this shit with you had to happen on the one day I decided to be a stylish bastard.”

#g/t #my writing #sideline #sw #giant male #sports and smut; what it do? #happy new year!

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Outside the Rain - Harry Styles Series (Part 20)

Part 19

You groaned as you threw the remote to the opposite side of the bed. Being bedridden for over two weeks meant that you’ve practically seen every single thing on Netflix, you wanted, and now trying to find anything to watch was a struggle. You tried reading, but you couldn’t focus. Your Mom was still taking care of you and it was nice, but she was getting to be annoying. 

The swelling in your knee had gone down, but it still hurt like a bitch. Your surgery was scheduled for the end of the week and while you couldn’t wait for it, you were also super nervous. The near future of your career as well as the girls, depended on the outcome of this injury. A decision had still yet to be made about the upcoming tour, but you knew it most likely wasn’t looking good. 

You just hoped everyone was okay with postponing it by a few months. You hated that this happened, you hated that you would be the reason to halt this comeback, but you knew if the doctor said you couldn’t tour, your manager was not going to let you tour. You hadn’t really spoken with the girls much other than a few texts here and there.

You weren’t sure if that was them keeping their distance because they’re upset or if they were just trying to give you space to heal and rest. Either way, it still hurt you. Another issue that was going on was there was something off with you and Harry. Ever since that last night with him, he’s been acting distracted. Phone calls were kept short and sweet, texts were the same way. 

You knew he was probably worried and he felt bad about not being there to help take care of you, but you could tell there was something else going on just by the tone in his voice. You had no clue what it could be or if it was something you said or did. And sitting there with no distractions, only having your thoughts, was not the best. 

“Hey, honey,” your mom smiled walking into the bedroom. “I brought you some soup and a sandwich.” 

“Thanks,” you sighed sitting up on the bed. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked placing it on the table next to your bed. 

“I’ve been better,” you sighed. 

“I know you’re over this laying in bed thing, but just a few more days, maybe another week and then you’ll be able to move a little more,” she said. 

You nodded and started nibbling on your sandwich. 

“Have you spoken to Harry recently?” She asked. “Do you know if he’s coming for the surgery?” 

“Um, I think so,” you said. “At least, I hope so. I sent him the information.” 

“Is everything okay there?” She asked. “I mean, it just seems like you two aren’t really speaking to each other much?” 

“Oh, we’re fine,” you said. “He’s just busy and then letting me rest. That’s all.” 

She gives you the look of unsureness, but doesn’t question you any further. You force a smile trying to stay optimistic about it. If your own mother could sense something was up with your relationship, then there probably was something going on. 

**

Harry was having his sister over for dinner, while he was in London. Not only did he want to see her and spend time with her, he also had something he wanted to talk to her about. He knew he was probably overreacting and he definitely was making it worse by acting the way he was towards you. He kept telling himself you wouldn’t notice because you were probably sleeping or binge watching Netflix, but deep down he knew that you were wondering what was going on. 

It was halfway through dinner when Harry finally decided to bring it up. 

“Gem, I need some advice,” he sighed. 

“So, that’s the real reason you cooked dinner,” she joked. 

“Ha, ha,” he rolled his eyes. “But seriously, I need... advice from a girl’s perspective.” 

“And naturally you thought of me,” she raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, I wasn’t going to call Mum,” he said. 

“Good point,” she said. “But why didn’t you just ask your girlfriend?” 

“Because it’s about her,” he sighed. 

“Okay,” she said. “What do you need?” 

“Why would a girl keep a photo of her ex boyfriend in a clothing drawer with no other pictures?” Harry asked. 

“Huh, I was not expecting that,” she said. “I mean, there could be lots of reasons. Maybe it’s been there since they were together and she just forgot about it. Or maybe she just wanted to keep the picture because it was from a good memory? Or- honestly I don’t know. Why did you snoop through her things and find one?” 

“First of all, I wasn’t snooping,” he said. “I was getting her some joggers to wear after she hurt her knee and I found a photo of her with her ex in the same drawer. I know it’s probably nothing... but I couldn’t help but feel like maybe it was something. If this guy broke her heart as much as she said he did, why would she want anything like that... and why hide it away in a drawer unless she didn’t want anyone else to find it.” 

“Well, did you ask her about it?” Gemma asked. 

Harry looked down at his plate of food, “No.” 

“Harry Edward Styles,” she groaned. “You’ve got to be bloody kidding me! When did this happen? Like two-three weeks ago? And you haven’t brought it up to her? You are such a dumbass sometimes.” 

“Gee thanks, feeling the love here Gem,” he said. “Part of why I didn’t bring it up is because I didn’t want to like upset her potentially when she’s already dealing with all this.” 

“At least that’s what you’re telling yourself,” she said. “You and I both know it’s because you’re afraid of what the answer might be on why she still has it. You’re worried that she still has feelings for him or did have feelings for him recently, etc, etc.” 

He doesn’t answer, which basically confirms her theory. 

“Look, the only way you’re going to feel better about this is if you talk to your girlfriend about it,” she said. “And you should also prepare yourself for getting an answer that you might not like... but I mean, do you honestly believe that she still has feelings for him?” 

“No, I don’t,” he sighed. “I know she loves me and wants to be with me... but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t also love him, too.” 

“Can you not throw yourself a pity party just yet and wait until after you talk to her?” She sighed. “You’re going for her surgery right?” 

“Of course, I wouldn’t not be there,” he said. 

“While that’s technically a double negative, I get what your meaning and I’m glad you’re still going,” she said. “But I probably wouldn’t bring this topic up until she’s not on pain meds and the two of you can have a proper conversation.” 

“Well, I’ve waited this long, what’s another couple of days, right?” He joked. 

Gemma rolled her eyes at him before going back to finish her dinner. 

**

You were at the hospital getting prepped for your surgery and Harry had yet to arrive. You hadn’t spoken to him on the phone in a few days, so you were starting to worry about him actually coming. You couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t come, though. Either he was running late or something super important came up... or he was just really upset with you. But still it didn’t matter what it was, you couldn’t believe he wouldn’t be there for you on a day like that. 

Your parents were there and keeping the girls in touch with everything. You had met with what seemed like every doctor in the building ever since you had arrived. They each went over the procedure and what it would entail. What recovery would look like and the of course, taking another MRI to make sure everything was good to go. 

You were hooked up to an IV and now it was just a waiting game until the start of surgery. You could tell your parents were also wondering about Harry’s whereabouts, but neither of them brought it up, not wanting you get you worked up. However, you were already there, while you were concerned as to what is was you had done to cause the weirdness between you and Harry, you were mostly pissed at this point. 

You needed him there and he was nowhere to be seen. Not even a single text or phone call. When the nurse came to take you to the OR, you knew he wasn’t coming. Sure he might show up after or once you’re home, but you wanted him there before you went in. And it wasn't there. 

Your parents gave you kisses on the head and well wishes before the nurses pushed your bed out of the room. Just as the nurse was pushing you down the hallway, you heard a voice from behind you. 

“Wait! Y/N! Please, wait, Excuse me,” they called out. 

The nurse stopped and turned around. You peeked behind her, seeing Harry standing there with his bags and out of breath. A smile spread across your lips as he walked over to you. 

“I’m so sorry,” he sighed. “My flight got delayed and then we to stuck in traffic.” 

“It’s okay,” you said. “I’m just happy you made it.” 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he whispered. “I’ll see you when you get out, love.” 

“I love you,” you smiled. 

“I love you, too,” he whispered kissing you quickly before the nurse finished pushing you down the hallway and through the doors leading to the OR hallway.  Harry sighed turning around seeing your parents staring at him both with unhappy expressions on their faces. 

It was going to be a long couple of hours. 

**

Slowly getting back to writing! :) 

#One Direction Imagines #Harry Styles Imagines #Outside the Rain

[rksaememories]

✰ MAY EVALUATION, ‘19! performing ⇢ dalla dalla, by itzy ( solo ) “keep your head up, just keep on dreaming!”

       TRIGGER WARNING: hospital mentions, negative thoughts!

another month, totally gone. may had passed by in an absolute blur and saerom found herself struggling to keep up once again. so maybe this time round, she hadn’t wound up in the hospital due to bumping her head, but she did wound up there exhausted, just like last time. to her, it’s almost shameful, as a dancer, to not be able to keep up as she used to. what kind of a main dancer couldn’t keep up with choreography? basic choreography at that. what if she made her debut and this sort of stuff kept happening? she couldn’t do that, she’d be a liability. they would have to kick her out of the group and maybe even the company.

these where the sorts of thoughts that plagued her mind amidst her time in the hospital, attached to an iv. she eventually found peace in her dreams, nodding off pretty quickly and catching up on much needed rest. a hospital bed, sitting upright was better than the floor of a dance studio. still, saerom had an evaluation to combat and this month wasn’t going to stop her from achieving that. even if she was tired, no, exhausted and her mind was filled with negativity, she still needed to do this evaluation. and even if dancing was the root cause of her problems. she still loved it.

despite the difficulties she had to overcome in may, saerom had managed to learn an entire song and it’s routine. it was different, singing and rapping whilst dancing, not that she couldn’t do it, she was just used to putting her all into dancing. it’s nice to have something else to focus her energy on when the thing that saerom loves the most clearly hates her guts. the month comes to a close and saerom finds herself walking into a practice room in front of various trainers she knows. she’s bright eyed, rocking a fresh hair colour and cut. her signature, short hair has been traded out for two twin tails, high up on her head, with black extensions to accentuate the length. long hair is usually something that makes saerom somewhat uncomfortable, but for this routine, she’s willing to make a sacrifice. that and maybe it might distract the judges on how awful she looks and feels this month. to match, she wears sporty, cool looking athleisure wear with a new pair of sneakers her parents recently brought for her. that should do the trick.

in an alternate reality, this song is her jam. it’s her anthem. saerom introduces herself and what she intends on performing and after a few quick questions from the panel of trainers, saerom gets into position and cues the music. standing center stage, saerom closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. don’t fuck this up, sae. she thinks to herself.

dda-dda-la-dda-la-dda-la, dda-dda-la-dda-la-dda-la

the moves come as she remembers learning them. saerom’s execution, even when down on herself is always sharp and clean, with that bit of added flair which screams lee saerom. as she slides across the floor, she locks eyes with one of the trainers. she wears a catty, charismatic smirk on her face as she moves into the opening verse of the song. a rap.

people look at me, and they tell me. they look at my looks alone and say i’m a punk. so what? i don’t care, i’m sorry. i don’t care, don’t care, really don’t care, because ...

her hair whips around her. saerom is thankful she bobby-pinned the heck out of these twin tails, the last thing she needed was one of her ponytails flying off and landing at the feet of one of the trainers. that would definitely leave a lasting impression, wouldn’t it? her charismatic and cool expression leaves her face, replaced by a wide, passionate smile. two of the members exude that type cool, charismatic energy, whereas the vocalists definitely sound more chipper.

i don’t care for love, there’s much more fun out there in the world. sisters tell me i still have a long way to become mature. i’m sorry sorry, i don’t want to be mature, nope.

her voice is soft, under-developed but definitely there. thankfully it matches, since the concept of the song was supposed to be teen girl crush. if saerom is lucky, she can get away with this one, just this once. she’s sure she’ll have to work on her vocals in the future and by the looks of things, with her relationship to dance deteriorating before her eyes, this girl might just become a singer yet. the chorus is fun and upbeat, and saerom jumps to the beat, her twin tails fly around her, just not off of her head. the thought looms in the back of her mind.

just pretty, not attractive at all. i’m different from the kids, i’m different. don’t measure me by your standards alone, i love being myself, i’m nobody else, i’m different. i love myself, something’s different about me, yeah. i love myself, something’s different about me, yeah. i’m different from you, yeah.

of late, she often finds herself being self-critical of her performances. not always does saerom think of nice things. this time round, she knows that this isn’t her best effort. something isn’t quite right, something is rather off. she doesn’t know if it’s her and the way she’s dressed and styled, or if it’s her dancing, singing or rapping. maybe it’s just saerom turning into a bad, bad egg.

bad, bad i’m sorry i’m bad, i’m just the way i am. it’s such a little time to care about what others think, i’m busy doing what i want to do. my life, i will live my own way, don’t you care. cause i’m special, yeah.

the charismatic and cool element of the song returns. she whips her hair a little more and finds herself sliding across the smooth ground of the dance studio. on her way up, returning to the routine once again, saerom; whilst wearing that smirk of hers, throws a wink at one of the trainers. halfway through the song now. saerom could of just done half of the song and stopped here, but here she goes, pushing herself again and again in hopes for a different outcome.

i don’t care about what others think, i like my style cause that’s me. sisters tell me i’m daring, i’m sorry sorry, i don’t want to change, nope.

the cute vibes of the song replace that of the cool, and saerom finds herself continuing to push through and persevere, even though she feels as though she could break at any second.

just pretty but not attractive at all, i’m different from the kids, i’m different. don’t measure me by your standards alone, i love being myself, i’m nobody else, i’m different.

the vocal heavy portion of the song has raised and saerom knows that she’s not going to be able to hit that note without cracking her voice and going totally off key. but she can’t stop or back out now, saerom has to finish the song on a high note. but she doesn’t like her chances.

don’t care what people say, i know myself. i’m talking to myself, keep your head up. hold your head up and go after your dreams. just keep on dreaming.

keep your chin up, we got your back. keep your head up, just keep on dreaming. keep your chin up, we got your back. keep your head up, just keep on dreaming.

the song moves into somewhat of a chant; catchy lyrics with a dance breakdown of sorts. it’s supposed to be fun, leave people wanting to dance and stop their feet to the rhythm. saerom knows she should be listening to the lyrics, ingraining them in her memory. keep your chin up. saerom sings, smiling brightly. keep your head up, just keep on dreaming. she finishes the breakdown by following the original choreography, throwing a thumbs up at the trainers who were probably writing down horrible notes about how lacklustre this routine was, and how bad of an investment saerom ended up being for them. they were probably thinking even worse things. this wasn’t the way saerom intended to end her routine. why had last month been so god damn easy for her? what had made this month so unbelievably difficult.

just pretty but not attractive at all, i’m different from the kids, i’m different. don’t measure me by your standards alone, i love being myself, i’m nobody else, i’m different.

i love myself, something’s different about me, yeah. i love myself, something’s different about me, yeah. i’m different from you, yeah.

as the song comes to a close and saerom pushes through, trying her best to put her all into finishing the song on a strong note, she feels as though she’s being enclosed by an invisible box of sorts. it’s coming down, over her. saerom’s chest tightens and her throat begins to ache. her finishing pose has her holding her hands over her head, like a crown. heavy the crown is. she stands upright once given the instruction to do so and she immediately begins to feel her legs shake and quiver, struggling to hold herself upright.

relief washes over saerom the moment she leaves the studio. she thinks the fresh air and the lights will calm her. she’ll see some of her fellow trainees and she’ll be able to put her mind at ease, but it’s the dread that follows that pushes her overboard and under. saerom frantically searches for the nearest restroom, crashing inside without hesitation.

#✰ ┋ performance. #✰ ┋ evaluation. #rkmay19eval #( this was a Whole Mess )

[darknesstodawnuniverse]

Whumptober Day 17 - Withdrawal

So this has taken ages to get posted. Life got in the way and then I broke my arm...so yeah. I do plan on doing all 31 days of the Whumptober prompt list, even though its November. We are back into the Modern AU for this one. The story of why Athos got sober. 

You can find this on ff.net and Ao3 for your reading convenience as well.

Read the rest of my Whumptober 2017 prompt fills here.

Athos just paced at first.

A restless prowl around the small room. He told himself that it was just restless energy and worry for Aramis that kept him from relaxing.

It absolutely had nothing to do with his body already yearning for a drink.

He wasn’t in complete denial. He knew he had a problem. He knew it wasn’t a good thing that he couldn’t sleep without a few beers and a whiskey chaser (or three). He knew it was unhealthy that he rarely remembered his off-duty nights because he drank so heavily on them.

But he never got behind the wheel. He never drank on duty. He never hurt anyone.

Until today.

After today, he would never drink again.

Porthos watched Athos pace, restlessly moving around the room. It wasn’t a large space. A small, enclosed unit with a window into the hall. It had blinds, but Athos hadn’t yet bothered to close them. It looked like every other room in the hospital honestly.

“How bad will it get?” Porthos asked Lemay as their doctor stepped up next to him.

“Hard to say. He said he’d gone out and downed half a bottle of Jack before coming back to have me check him in, so he probably won’t start really showing symptoms for a while yet.  What happened on this mission?”

Porthos sighed, closing his eyes and seeing Athos and Aramis both covered in blood, Aramis with an oxygen mask and too pale skin.

“Things went sideways…Aramis is in surgery.”

Lemay arched a concerned brow.

“I’ll get you an update on him,” the doctor assured. “And I’ll take care of Athos.”

“Can he do it? Can he get sober? Athos’s been drinking as long as we’ve known him… It’s never been this bad but it’s… It’s gotten worse lately, I guess.”

“He seemed determined,” Lemay replied simply. “Which is good because his success here will largely depend on him. At the end of it all, he needs to want to be sober more than he wants a drink. I’ll do what I can for him, but I won’t lock him up. If he asks to leave, I’ll try to reason with him but won’t restrain him.”

Porthos nodded. He didn’t doubt Athos motivation. He had seen the look in his eyes when he had realized what this nasty habit had caused.

Athos wouldn’t give up.

Hours later…

Athos curled on the bed, shaking and fighting the urge to rip put the IV Lemay had taped to his arm.

He closed his eyes and remembered why he was here.

“I’ve got eyes on the target,” Aramis’ voice whispered over their comm. “Outlaw, are you ready to receive the package?”

“Affirmative,” Porthos replied steadily.

Athos swallowed, pacing down one alley way and into the next. His part in this was to keep the patrolling guard contained.  If anyone stumbled upon Aramis, the whole mission would be blown. This whole thing had to be tied perfectly. Aramis had to take out their target at the exact moment Porthos snatched the package – in this case a spy who wanted to defect – and then cover Porthos retreat from the small army of men who would swiftly try to kill them.

Athos paused, wiping a hand across his brow as he leaned against the wall. He glared down at his shaking hands.

This mission had taken longer than planned. It was supposed to be 48 hours. It had been 72.  Athos hadn’t been this long without a drink since basic training. He had, admittedly, been drinking more and more as of late. The time it took for him to start yearning for another drink was getting shorter and shorter. It had never been a problem before now.

“Diablo, I’ve got heat signatures closing in on your position.” Treville’s voice snapped across the line. “Rapier, deal with it.”

Athos frowned, glancing around. He’d been patrolling the area, but now wasn’t sure exactly how far he’d wandered from Aramis’ position. He retraced his steps down the alley and looked around again.

“Rapier, get to Diablo’s position,” Treville barked.

Athos took off at a run.

“I hear them on the stairs,” Aramis hissed.

“How long before we can execute?” Porthos snapped back.

“Twenty seconds,” Treville replied sharply. “Rapier, what’s your status?”

Athos was running, scanning the buildings, looking for the one that Aramis had chosen as his roost. How had he wandered so far? He finally spotted it two blocks away.

“Rapier, where are you?” Porthos growled.

“Too far,” Athos whispered to himself as he sprinted towards the building.

“They’re on the roof,” Aramis’ voice whispered across the line. “Haven’t found me yet.”

“Abort,” Treville snapped. “Diablo, abort!”

“Negative,” Aramis hissed. “This is too important. I can still make the shot. Outlaw be ready. Top, on your mark.”

“Ten seconds,” Treville stated sharply.

Athos sprinted, feeling his stomach twist and head start to spin.

“Five.”

There was a shout across the line and then the familiar sound of one of Aramis’ Desert Eagles discharging.

Silence fell.

“Execute.”

A shot from Aramis’ rifle cracked through the stillness, followed swiftly by several more. Then it went abruptly silent.

“Package secure,” Porthos reported a few tense moments later. “That was a little closer than I found comforting, but we got away clean enough.”

Athos hit the stairwell, sprinting up. A wave of dizziness caught him off guard and he had to stop, bracing his hands on his knees.

“Diablo, report!” Treville snapped.

There was grunting and cursing over the line and then a very out of breath response.

“A bit...” another curse, “busy.”

“Rapier, where the hell are you?” Porthos demanded.

Athos started moving again.

“I’m almost there.”

He burst out onto the rooftop with his gun up. But only eerie silence greeted him. He rounded the enclosed stairwell to where Aramis had been perched and blew out a harsh breath.

There were four bodies collapsed all in the same general area and only one of them was moving.

Athos quickly covered the last few steps to Aramis, who was struggling to drag himself away from the other three bodies and leaving a trail of blood in his wake. His rifle was knocked over and hanging precariously half over the ledge, such lack of care spoke to how desperate the fight had been.

“Nice of you to show up,” Aramis teased with a breathy chuckle. His words bore no heat, but Athos felt struck anyway.

“What’s his status?” Porthos demanded. “Is he alright?”

“We need…” Athos had to pause to swallow moisture into his suddenly dry throat when he saw the amount of blood seeping through Aramis’ fingers where he had a hand pressed to a wound low on his back. “We need emergency evac. Diablo is down.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Aramis scolded with a grin and jerk of his chin at the other three bodies. “Those three are much worse off.”

Athos glared him into silence and Aramis just shrugged, collapsing back against the rooftop while Athos dug a pressure bandage out of his pack and replaced Aramis hand with it. When he drew his own hands back they were coated in blood – Aramis’ blood. He watched the marksman blink slowly, gaze a bit less focused than it bad been a moment ago.

“Hey, stay with me.” Athos snapped, sharply tapping Aramis’ cheek. “Stay awake!”

Athos stared across the darkened room and brought one of his hands up into his field of vision. He could still see the blood if he looked hard enough. Aramis’ blood.

Another wave of nausea hit, and he groaned, tucking his arms around his waist to ride it out. He’d already vomited out anything of substance an hour ago.

But he wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t give up. He would accept whatever pain came with this. It was no less than he deserved. And there was something so much more important he was fighting for.

“What the hell happened?” Porthos shouted, rounding on him once they whisked a terrifyingly pale Aramis away from the evac chopper that had been sent for them. “Where were you?”

Athos shook his head, fruitlessly trying to wipe his hands on his pants. But the blood had started to dry. It wouldn’t be so easily removed.

Porthos snatched him up by his shirt, dragging him in close. The larger man’s eyes bore into his angrily.

“I can see your hands shaking. You’re sweating and fidgety. How long’s it been, eh? How long since your last drink?”

Athos met his gaze squarely but couldn’t find the words to respond.

Porthos shook his head in disgust and shoved him away.

“You choose, Athos. You choose right now which is more important – that poison or us.” Porthos pointed towards the doors Aramis had been rushed through only moments ago. “He counted on you... I counted on you to have his back. He’s in there because you couldn’t do your job! You aren’t going in the field with him again unless you’re stone cold sober. So choose.”

Then Porthos turned his back on him and walked away. 

Athos had found the nearest liquor store and downed half a bottle of Jack Daniels before he even knew what he was doing. When he’d realized he was standing in a dirty alley, bottle in hand, nearly shaking with the relief of finally getting a drink, reality had crashed down hard on his shoulders. He should have been with his brothers. He should have been with Porthos, waiting for news on Aramis.

He’d thrown the bottle across the alley, watched it shatter, and made his way back to the hospital. He’d walked straight up to Lemay and asked to be checked in.

He had made his choice.

Porthos jumped when a hand settled on his shoulder. He blinked up blearily at Treville.

“Aramis is out of surgery and awake. He’s asking for you.”

Porthos stood up so quickly he nearly lost his balance. Treville steadied him and then pat his shoulder in comfort.

“How’s Athos?” Porthos asked.

Treville sighed.

“He’ll get through it,” the older man promised. “He’s strong and determined.”

Porthos nodded, scrubbing a hand across his eyes.

“Aramis is waiting,” Treville urged. Porthos didn’t need to be told again.

He found their sniper curled onto his side, propped on pillows. His eyes were closed, but as soon as Porthos stepped into the room, they opened.

“Hey, how’re you feelin’?” Porthos greeted. He grabbed a chair from against the wall and carried it over to the bed, so he could sit.

“Like I got stabbed…or shot…which one was it?” Aramis replied groggily. His usually sharp gaze was dulled with pain medication and lingering anesthesia.

“Stabbed,” Porthos informed him.

Aramis hummed an acknowledgment and blinked heavily at him.

“Where’s Athos?” he asked eventually.

Porthos sighed.

“He’s checked himself in with Lemay.”

Aramis frowned in confusion.

“Was he hurt?” he asked, worry creasing his brow. He started shifting like he was going to try to rise, so Porthos leaned forward, pressing a calming hand against his arm.

“He’s not hurt. He’s…well he’s…trying to get sober.”

Aramis still looked confused for a moment, but then his muddled thoughts seemed to align.

“He is?” the sniper asked in surprise.

Porthos nodded.

“Just…for now? Or forever?” Aramis went on.

“He was talking like it was going to be a permanent change,” Porthos answered.

“But why?” Aramis asked in bewilderment.

Porthos rubbed wearily at his eyes. He never enjoyed talking to a medicated Aramis. It was always jarring to see the sniper’s usually sharp, quick mind slowed and befuddled.  

“You, mostly. A bit of me, perhaps.”

“Me?”

Porthos met his gaze.

“A bit of a reckoning for him, I think, finding you bleeding out on that rooftop.”

When Aramis still looked confused, Porthos narrowed his eyes.

“Do you even remember what happened?” he wondered.

Aramis’ eyebrow twitched.

“It’s a bit…hazy,” he admitted with a bit of an embarrassed grin. “Damn pain meds…always muddle things up.”

Porthos grinned a little in response, but sobered quickly as he recalled the events that brought them here.

“He was supposed to be covering you, but he was out of position. He got distracted with…” Porthos shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know exactly what happened. But he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Three men cornered you on the rooftop. You shot one with your handgun, but had to cover me and the package. That allowed the other two to get the drop on you.”

Aramis was frowning now, gaze reflective as he seemed to laboriously shift through his drug-weighted thoughts.

“When Athos got there, it was all over. You’d taken them out, but were bleeding heavily. You were unconscious by the time I got there.”

Aramis’ gaze shifted around the room, taking in the various monitors before he looked back at Porthos.

“You blamed him for this?” Aramis realized.

Porthos sighed and rubbed at his eyes again.

“He should have had your back, Aramis.”

“What does any of this have to do with his drinking?”

Porthos stared at him, realizing belatedly that Aramis hadn’t seen the signs Porthos had when they’d gotten off the chopper. He’d been too busy being unconscious.  

“He had the shakes, ‘Mis. Sweats. Twitches. All the signs of withdrawal. He didn’t have your back because he got distracted by how long it’d been since he had a drink.”

Aramis’ eyes widened in surprise.

“When we got here and they took you away to surgery and I realized what was going on…” Porthos shook his head. “I nearly laid him out right there.”

“But you didn’t,” Aramis questioned curiously.

“I wanted to,” Porthos admitted. “But the look in his eyes…he knew what he’d done. He knew what his addiction to that poison had cost. So I gave him a choice. The drinking or us. I told him he couldn’t have both, not anymore.”

“And?” Aramis prodded.

“He chose us.”

Athos cleared his throat, rapping lightly on the door that led to Aramis’ hospital room.

“It’s not as if it’s got a lock,” came the chuckling response. Athos reached for the handle. “Honestly, Porthos, I don’t know why you’re even kno…oh…”

Athos stood awkwardly in the doorway, staring at Aramis, who was sprawled on his side, propped on pillows, messing with a tablet.

“I thought you were Porthos,” Aramis pointed out needlessly.

Athos just shook his head. He wasn’t Porthos...obviously.

Aramis assessed him with that calculating look Athos had only ever seen snipers use.

“Are you…?” Aramis trailed off with a vague wave of his hand.

“Three days sober? Yes.” Athos answered. “Lemay told me I could walk around, stretch my legs.”

As if cued, his legs trembled and Athos swiftly took the seat next to the bed. Aramis eyed him knowingly but didn’t comment.

“How are you?” Athos asked, looking the marksman over. His color was back and his gaze sharp, which meant he’d talked them into giving him the weaker painkillers. Aramis didn’t like having his senses dulled.

“Alright,” Aramis replied easily. “Ready to get out of here.”

Athos grinned a little. Aramis wouldn’t be Aramis if he didn’t grow quickly restless with inactivity.

“How are you?” Aramis wondered.

Athos sighed.

“Getting there,” he replied.

Aramis nodded slowly, watching him closely.

“I want to apologize to you Aramis.”

“You don’t have to,” the sniper replied immediately.

“I want to,” Athos countered.

“Athos…”

“You have always been too forgiving, Aramis. I will allow you to forgive me this, if you allow me to apologize.”

Aramis sighed and waved him on and Athos cleared his throat. He met the marksman’s gaze and was wholly unsurprised to find no judgement there, no recrimination, only the same warmth and brotherhood there had always been. Seeing it made the Athos confession flow easily from his lips.

“I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten. Or perhaps had refused to realize,” he began. “I told myself that it wasn’t affecting my job. I wasn’t being irresponsible. No-one was getting hurt so why shouldn’t I continue drinking? Only ad time passed I continued to drink more and more. And the time I could last between drinks got less and less.”

Athos paused, running a hand over his mouth and down his chin. He forced himself to hold Aramis’ steady gaze as he went on.

“I knew things were bad going into the op that night, but I did think I would be fine to do the job. I never would have put you or Porthos at risk if I thought myself truly compromised.”

“I know, Athos. Of course, I know that,” Aramis assured fervently.

Athos let out a shuddering breath.

“I overestimated myself,” he admitted. “I got distracted, caught up in my own head and strayed out of position. I didn’t even… I had no idea how far I had gone until getting back meant your life or death.”

Athos closed his eyes and shook his head, hating himself for what his addiction had cost – for what it had almost cost.

“If you had died…” Athos whispered in horror.

“I didn’t though,” Aramis reminded.

“Because you’re you. Because you’re the toughest son of a bitch I’ve ever known. You survived because of you, Aramis. But you nearly died because of me.”

Athos leaned forward, gaze earnest.

“The drinking is over. I will never let you down in such a way again.”

“I know you won’t,” Aramis replied sincerely, his dark eyes speaking clearly of forgiveness already given.

In the face of it, Athos was stunned to feel his eyes start stinging.

He didn’t deserve a brother like Aramis. Few, in fact, ever could.

“I’m thinking of changing my code name,” Athos announced suddenly, desperate to regain some sort of equilibrium.

“To what? Teetotaler?” Aramis asked with a snort. When Athos merely fixed him with a glare Aramis shrugged. “Too soon?”

“Whiskey,” Athos corrected mildly.

Aramis’ brow furrowed in confusion. They both knew it was Athos’ drink of choice.

“So that I never forget and never go back.”

Aramis held his gaze and nodded.

“Whiskey, Outlaw, and Diablo…I like it.”

#whumptober #ficlet #whumptober 2017

[cantankerouscanuck]

This has been life for the last 10 years. Going through the motions, just trying to get through the day, putting in more effort into being alive and wondering what the point of it all is. When does the struggling end? When does the hurting stop? When can I stop pretending that I'm okay when I'm really miserable?

WARNING: very long and depressing and mentions of blood/self-harm

There's this discord server I run, it's part of a RP I've run for several years now. It started out good, but lately it's being going downhill thanks to me and the thousands of tons of emotional baggage. The usual routine now is I come up with plot points most of them don't like, this upsets me, I manage my emotions terribly and just like that everyone's in a bad mood.

Why's this a big deal? For a start, this server used to be one of the few safe places I had. With things the way they are now, degenerate alcoholism is tightening it's hold on me. But because this is my server, I'm responsible for keeping it going. And that means I'm apparently the only one who can do the job.

There was a time I could do that. Then came several moments that would come to define my life;

The first was an incredibly toxic relationship. Me, the pariah of every school I've ever been to, meets someone that says they were in love with me. While it did end, it's the manner in which it ended that stung; she went back to her vile ex without telling me and literally said "I don't think it'll be a problem, we can still be friends". I've been pushed around and treated like crap all my life and then she does that? I was borderline suicidal ever since. My ability to trust others died too, I've been constantly paranoid that literally everyone I meet is secretly plotting to use me like a disposable tool. And I really mean everyone who's so much as acknowledged me as an actual human.

Secondly, there was the year I lived with my brother. Fresh out of high school with no job, my parents figured the best course was to throw me out of the damn country and get my brother to get me ready for facing the world. He never asked too much from me, it was all rather fair and reasonable. The source of friction came from my inability to communicate in a way that he understood. That led to me not letting him know when I couldn't afford my share of the rent. The communication errors stems from how I "had to be less of a burden" for the family when I was growing up and that meant I was not allowed to feel any negative emotion but let everyone else rant and rage at me. So I've never healthily dealt with anything that's gone wrong with me since I was 13 and my brother was stuck with me. I really did try to be a good roommate, but my best wasn't enough. While I'm not surprised he kicked me out, the way in which he did so gouged out more of me; we were back home for Christmas and that's when he tells me that I'm not coming back with him, even though he said I was before we flew out and he still had most of my stuff. Just added that to another reason to never trust anyone ever again.

Another big part of why I'm a mess are my jobs. Despite my best efforts, I've only ever gotten dead end jobs. I was a good employee, got along great with my co-workers (the waitresses at this restaurant I worked at liked me because instead of flirting with them, I actually did my job) and I had a tendency for bringing snacks to the break room. All I got to show for it was a terrible paycheck and a mangled body. My jobs gave me carpal tunnel syndrome, chronic knee pains and a horrendous spine. But heavy labor jobs are all I can get, so I go to work with these terrible pains and my job is essential so no Quarantine time off to recover

Then there's my parents. My dad has no faith in me and makes that clear as he constantly criticizes everything I do, blames mishaps at work on me, and expects me to be responsible for literally every single thing (my sister once left her passport in the kitchen after she got it for setting up her bank account. Dad said it was my fault for not putting it back). My mum on the other hand did believe in me, but she didn't really know how to talk to me and vice versa. A lot of the times when she got mad there was actual justification for it, but something i recall clearly was when I had absolutely terrible moments. There was the first time I got called in to the principal's office (I was writing a hit list of my class that picked on me the whole year) and the time I couldn't sleep because my nightmares were both realistic and had a very deep resonance. Both times, she didn't even raise her voice. Just hugged me as she asked me to remember that she'll always believe in me.

These factors of my life are the most defining moments, they've shaped me into the god-awful horrendous mess of emotions and paranoia I am today. Biggest reason I'm typing this out is because ive hit my breaking point

This one guy on the server I run has been "calling me out" for awhile and that's been greatly upsetting me. First off, it's shattered any safety I've felt in that server. Secondly, all he's doing is reminding me of how bad I am which I already know

A lot of people kept telling me to go see a therapist, but it took me years to find one I could afford. And only a few sessions in and Quarantine kicks in so I'm not allowed to see her

If anyone's made it this far, I suppose you're wondering why I bothered making this. Quite simply because i dont know what else I can do. Because of how I've never been allowed to properly process issues my whole life, I don't know how to conventionally communicate. Sending pictures, songs and videos at random to try and tell people how I'm doing is really all I know, the other option being pushed too far and losing what little of my cool is left

There are times I feel like no one acknowledges what ive been through as "real pain" just because ive not been to tertiary education, or been physically abused, or the fact it's all in my head. A lot of people don't seem to understand that because it's in my head, it follows me everywhere. A lot of people don't seem to acknowledge that i really am trying. A lot of people keep telling me "just move on"

dont you think i wouldve moved on if i knew how?

#this is bad #this is why we can't have nice things #this is my life #this is fine

[book-n-bean]

What would it be like without tv?

Every night, we put the tv on and watch it until it’s late or we’re too tired to stay up any longer.

Since when did everyone just switch on their tvs at night after dinner and just watch?

What’s it like without the tv? Without the noise? When you have to entertain yourself? Would you spend more time with the people you love, would you read more? Would kids do more homework just to have something to do?

I’m not saying I’m not grateful for technology, I just think it’s so sad to be in this position every night, it’s so empty and boring and sad.

It’s just going to get worse as I get older too. Everyone connected to technology more and more. How long will it take for our world to be made out of technology? We’re already working on trees that glow in the dark to provide light and save electricity?

I don’t know.

Lately I’ve just been feeling like life is so empty and sad and pointless, and maybe that’s me being a little depressed and hopeless; but it’s true. What should we be excited about in life? Our futures? Because our futures are the same as everyone else’s, there’s really not much we’ll do that other people havent. And of course, that doesnt mean we wont enjoy it, i dont know what it means.

Maybe there’s something wrong with me - I FEEL wrong. Like im so much more up in my head than i should be, but i cant figure out how to come back to earth. I cant even remember if this is normal, to spend so much time thinking; even when im talking to people, doing things, i’m in my head. It’s worse when im listening to music, or doing something that doesnt require concentration. Reading is a distraction, and watching things can be a distraction too; but then i feel strange when I stop doing those things. I feel blank and empty like there’s nothing waiting for me beyond the book or the screen. Like the world is so quiet, unturning, people are frozen out in the street where they were walking, smoke comes from the exhaust of cars...but they dont move. And then time just skips, and suddenly it’s a couple of hours later and ive lived and so have the people in the street, the frozen cars are different to the ones before and the light outside the window is different. I know i lived every moment that i seem to have skipped, and i can remember each and every one of those seconds, but it feels like nothing happened in them at all...

I think i need help, but it would be so hard to talk about this. No one would understand, they couldnt help...it’s like that feeling i used to get, where it felt like my cells were freezing, through my chest into my left arm, into my palm. It felt like my blood was freezing, and it hurt. It would throb through me, some kind of icy breeze, and then it would linger...then disappear. My counsellor didnt understand that, i cant remember what she said; but im sure i would have remembered if it had been useful or interesting/important.

What do i do? I feel like ive got so many problems, but maybe im not looking at the big picture. Maybe i’m looking at every individual problem as it hits me and they just keep banking up as i fail to immediately solve them. That’s another question though, how far do they bank up? Have i actually been solving any of my problems, or have i just been side-stepping them and saying “good enough”?

I know i need help...maybe, and maybe i want help...but how do i get it? Therapy has never helped me before, ive always been better off working things out on my own, talking to my mum about things to get them off my chest and then doing the rest on my own. Who do i get help from? What would it cost? I could go to a school therapist, but i’d have to skip class for that, it would get weird. I dont want to skip class - that would stress me out. And last time, the school counsellor didnt help, but then again, i cant remember having big problems the last time i went...i think i’d been dating james for 2 months when i went to her; that’s such a long time ago, around about now.

Maybe this is normal...it’s just being a teenager, right? I dont want to worry my mum either, im okay, im dealing with it; even if that means struggling...as long as im just dealing with it. Im trying to focus on music, i know i should be trying to focus on school but im not interested right now. School feels empty too, i go to a building, entertain myself on the bus twice a day, talk to people i call friends, sit through six classes and take notes, pretend to/actually listen, crush on people who dont notice me, and then i go home and do it all again the next day. For what? An education, to be social; whatever. See what i mean? Everything feels pointless.

Even my possibilities seem close-ended; my endless possibilities. Breaking up with James was meant to make me feel open, see all the options out there. It doesnt feel like that. Sometimes i get a flash of that feeling, realising that there are so many people to love in the world and I could probably have a lot of them...but that door is as closed as ever because of my crush on the boy who’s taken; my heart is already dedicated to him...and he’s going to have to break it. I dont want him to, but if im going to move on, he’ll have to break my heart first. Maybe it’ll be indirect, maybe i’ll do it for him, telling myself he’ll never notice me, that im not like her and she’s better than me, the simple fact that it probably means nothing when he looks at me, oh and the lack of him noticing me. Yea sure, we text a lot occasionally, when i start the conversation, we tease each other and joke, but at the end of the day, what does it really mean? Anything? I dont know.

That’s the answer to all of my questions: I don’t know.

I’m not going to get help, not yet. At least I know I’m not depressed, something’s wrong but it’s not that. Luckily, I’m not suicidal, and I don’t want to self-harm; I tried that. In the shower, with the shaving razor, two little red lines, running blood, the sting, it didnt feel good, it didnt help; and I regretted it, I wanted it to go away. I won’t be trying that again, at least not for a while.

I just don’t understand, when did this all happen? And why? What started it - and how do I stop it? Melbourne Music Tour was perfect, I felt alive again, life felt electric and full, lovely and full of opportunities, friendship, warmth; experience. It was 7 days. I had seven days of life. It has been almost 7 days since. I have had seven days of emptiness. I could say it’s a cycle, but it’s not. It was a long, flat line of nothing, and then a 7 day blip, a promising little heartbeat...the world has gone flat again.

I’m kind of getting sad writing this, negativity and all. And it’s not helping, I feel the same, fuzzy head, tired, bored, it’s late (11:07pm, so not really that late for me, but im still tired). Im surprised about how much ive written though, how all of this is just flowing and ive just been letting it all out; ive barely stopped.

Maybe i am a little depressed, sadness comes easily. I do feel sad, deep down, it hurts. And when i do feel sad I know it’s deep, it’s the kind of sadness that opens a ravine in your chest and makes you want to hug something close to you, tight, to close the gap, make it feel better; to have something to hold onto while you’re being ripped apart from the inside out; and when you have no one that’s a little hard to do.

I want to tell myself that I’ll be okay, the thought lingered in my head, but I don’t feel like I will be right now. Im not interested...in life? I dont want to die, i just dont feel interested in doing anything im doing, not really. Even my hobbies are all dropping away. What are my hobbies? I spent one day writing in the holidays and i havent since. I read a bit...but its not very fun. I havent painted anything for months, watching Glee is a good distraction, but its more a way to pass the time than a way to entertain myself. Music is my only real hobby, i enjoy it, i love playing guitar, feeling the song, learning piano, looking at sheet music, recording my voice memos on my phone; if anything can get me through, it’s music. Maybe that’s the way out. I’m planning on buying a proper microphone, to record myself and sing into and...ive been thinking about starting a youtube channel, to have somewhere to put all of the voice memos i record. Maybe people will like it, maybe i’ll like it. It feels like the only step, in any direction, that im planning on taking in my life right now; everything else seems blurred and slow motion, walled-off. Music seems like a road to follow...

I dont know how to end this, i dont know what to say at all. I feel like there’s a lot more to say, but i know ive already said a lot, and i also know that theres nothing else materialising in my head right now; just the distant feel of thoughts. Im scared as well, we just watched a movie, there were dead people in it, it was gory, scary; i didnt like it. So now im paranoid and scared. I’ll go sit in my room, against my headboard, with the wall next to me; it feels safe there.

Maybe i really do need help - i sound insane. Im not, im just going through stuff...maybe i’ll end up talking to mum about it, but for now im going to take the weekend to chill.

[taylorwritesnonstop-blog]

Musical Memoir - IV. Development

“Welcome to the city with too many roads You're not gonna know where to go Just follow all the pretty lights Get lost till it feels right The places you will go” -Patrick Watson, “Places You Will Go”

My sense of self was adrift. Living on my own for the first time, struggling with my surfacing bipolar disorder, and left with a tarnished vision of the world, I felt lost, alone, and out of control. I had just exited a mentally draining relationship, a toxic cycle of emotional warfare where I felt my words and body weaponized against me. I was searching for validation in all the wrong places, destructively offshoring the love I denied myself. Securing the funds through morally nebulous means, I got myself a ticket away from all the negative influences that were dragging me down, away from my little bubble and the catastrophic political upheaval of 2016. I was circling the drain of existential contemplation and coming to terms with the Earth shaking notion that the world was more unjust and ugly than I had naively assumed. Unable to cope with the personal nightmare of Donald Trump’s election to the presidency, I impulsively booked a ticket to visit an old friend in Vancouver the weekend of the inauguration.

Reuniting with my friend Abbi, with whom I had played in orchestras together for years, brought me back to less complicated times. It was so fun to finally be able to hang out minus the restrictions of adolescence; now we were young women who smoked pot and went out on the town in dresses too cold for the frigid air and heels. We hit a classy bar for dinner and drinks (the legal drinking age in British Columbia being 19), then to a comedy club to watch two of our sex-positive, feminist, stand-up idols perform. Afterwards we went to the Gastown neighborhood of downtown Vancouver, where the streets were barricaded to make way for late night foot traffic. We walked from one bar to the next until we settled on one to hang around until closing, sitting on barstools and flirting with a handsomely tattooed and bearded hipster bartender. I discovered one of the truly best drinking foods, Poutine. We ended the night drunkenly giggling over the ridiculousness of thigh chaffing tights and matte liquid lipstick, only to realize Abbi had left her wallet at the bar. We ditched the heels and ran back to retrieve it, barely catching the last bus back to her campus.

The next day we headed out, Sharpied posters in hand, for the International Woman’s March in protest of the Trump presidency. Joined by 15,000 others, we marched through the streets of Vancouver, plastering the newly built Trump tower with our protest signs. It was the first big protest I had ever been a part of, indeed, it was the largest single day protest in US history, joined by millions of supporting voices around the globe. It was an extremely empowering and heartening experience, and we commemorated it by seeking out one of the only tattoo parlors that was still taking walk ins. We got matching tattoos of the symbol for feminism as a reminder of the day and all it stood for.

“Always a riddle in the world she says Always a riddle inside my head Always a thing to wonder in the way we come to be Oh it's a big old place for me yeah It's a big old world indeed Kicking my heels and wondering how I've been here so long” -Ben Howard, “In Dreams”

In contrast with the boiling tensions at home, Canada felt like a friendly, laissez-faire, and polite cousin to America. Vancouver was an oasis, a heaving metropolis abutting Pacific Northwest splendor from every direction—the Puget Sound, the Pacific Ocean, the coniferous rainforests.

In one day, and without the guidance of my local friend (she had classes to attend), I hopped several busses and traversed over the inlet and past downtown to North Vancouver. I waited for the last bus, more of a van really, to carry me up to Lynn Canyon Park. 

What lay waiting for me was a place of dreams, a real life version of the fantastical Rivendale of Lord of the Rings fame or a Bon Iver album cover come to life. Here, the evergreen needles of massive conifers were always damp with the droplets left behind by rolling fog and the freezing mist that was created at the base of cascading waterfalls. Wooden stairs and boardwalks made a path through a canopy of pines, dotted with flourishing lichen and moss along with well-established patches of gritty, glacial ice. Sunlight filtered through the trees to illuminate the misty air before falling on dense, lush ferns growing from the dark soil and carpeting of old needles and fallen pinecones that covered the ground. 

Exploring my way into this beautiful wilderness by myself was so liberating. This place felt as if it should have been an impossibility—a rainforest where snow was ever-present, an entire world and a short bus ride away from the big city. I made my way to the park’s central attraction—the suspension bridge that spanned the length of the canyon right above the roiling cauldron of the biggest waterfall.

I stepped onto the first board, and despite all the assurances of the safety of the structure and rational assessments of the number of tourists that come here every day and leave unharmed, I still felt the thrill of adrenaline hit my body as I felt the bridge move underneath me. I stepped forward into the chasm, the bridge swinging and teetering with every step forward that I took. I looked down into the churning whitewater where tons of water surged over the edge of the cliff each second, creating a glacial maelstrom of a thousand shades of turquoise as each drop mingled together once again in the basin. I felt so small and powerless in the face of such magnificence, witnessing the tireless, eternal evolution of nature reinventing herself. I also felt the relief of realizing my own insignificance, of seeing the panorama of time eternal spread out before me in the form of this canyon, carved out of unyielding rock over years and years of the river relentlessly forging its path ahead. I took comfort in the water’s continual pilgrimage towards the ocean, indifferent to all the tiny lives that it passes by on its journey.  

#vancouver #lynn canyon #2016 election #protest #womensmarch #music #music blog #patrick watson #ben howard #travel #travel blog

[swipestream]

An Excerpt from Soda Pop Soldier

Call of Duty meets Diablo in this fast-paced, action-packed LitRPG novel from the author of GALAXY’S EDGE.

Gamer PerfectQuestion fights for ColaCorp in WarWorld, an online combat sport arena where mega-corporations field entire armies in the battle for real world global advertising-space dominance. Within the immense virtual battlefield, players and bots are high-tech grunts, using drop-ships and state-of-the-art weaponry to wipe each other out.

But times are tough and the rent is due, and when players need extra dough, there’s always the Black, an illegal open source tournament where the sick and twisted desires of the future are given free rein in the Wastehavens, a gothic dungeon fantasy world.

And all too soon, the real and virtual worlds collide when PerfectQuestion refuses to become the tool of a mad man intent on hacking the global economy for himself.

SODA POP SOLDIER by Nick Cole is available in paperback from Castalia Direct for $19.99. It is also available via Kindle and Kindle Unlimited on Amazon.

The war starts at 6 A.M., in-game time. By 6:45 we’re losing Hamburger Hamlet as our entire line begins to disintegrate.

It isn’t a total collapse. Pockets of resistance hold out in key positions, buying ColaCorp time, expensive time, to fall back and reorganize. On my right flank, Kiwi holds a high hill overlooking the Song Hua river basin. We call that hill WonderSoft Garage because of the small power station and vehicle spawn depot located there. WonderSoft had made the capture of that hill and power station a primary objective in the last three battles we’d fought at this end of the basin.

And it looked like they were gonna try for it again today.

Over BattleChat, Kiwi swears as he burns through the ammo that an air resupply Albatross barely managed to get through. In my mind, I can see empty lager cans parading around the workspace that is Kiwi’s keyboard and monitor, as ambient in-game sound resounds in a metallic symphony of ammo brass expended in adult-sized doses. If the sound of auto rifles and explosions is a kind of music, and to some of us it is, then Kiwi is Beethoven.

Through graphically rendered feathery willow trees and the game-supposed heat waves of the day, I can barely make out what’s going on up at the top of the hill in brief glimpses. Three fast-attack WonderSoft Goats, their version of a jeep, and a Thrasher light mech are burning. Thick oily smoke belches from the mech, and a moment later it explodes in a shower of sparks. More WonderSoft Goats and Thrashers climb the road to the bridge that leads to our side of the river.

WonderSoft infantry scramble from cover, racing to other cover, as Kiwi fights hard to keep them from crossing the choke point at the bridge and capturing WonderSoft Garage. It’s about to get real intimate, real quick.

“Command, we’re gettin’ killed up here,” shouts Kiwi over BattleChat. His transmission is broken and distorted by automatic weapons fire in the background. “I’m down to three grunts,” he continues. “Request reinforcements or evac, A-S-A-P! If you’ve got fire support, I’ll take it now, but you’d better drop it right on top of my position, your choice, Command.”

Minutes earlier I’d requested Command point two transports of grunts our way as reinforcements. One of our dropships got jumped by a flight of WonderSoft Vampires as they’d approached the LZ. The other, piloted by RiotGuurl, had gotten away.

I hope.

RiotGuurl is as good a pilot as I’ve ever worked with. Losing the first transport hadn’t been an easy choice for her, but when a WonderSoft Vampire caught your electronic scent, there weren’t many options left for a transport squadron other than to split up and run like hell to get away from that wicked ground attack jet.

Since then RiotGuurl was maintaining radio silence. I know she’s chasing every nook and cranny in the jungle-clad hills that surround the basin on all sides, flying her gunship way too close to the computer’s representation of the ground, looking for a route back into Hamburger Hamlet so we can resupply and reinforce the river crossing. Maybe even help Kiwi.

“Be advised, Command, it’s just me now. All my grunts are KIA.” Kiwi again. “Two ammo packs left and multiple Softs inside the wire.” Kiwi never gives up. Even when he’s being overrun. Maybe it’s an Australian thing. Once this war is over, I plan on taking some of my winnings and heading down under to spend some time in Gigaboo Flats at the Wonky Boomerang, Kiwi’s favorite post-battle watering hole. But hopefully the Cola Wars will never end, or else how will I get paid?

“Kiwi, evac not possible at this time. Sorry about that, son.” It’s RangerSix, ColaCorp’s tactical commander. The fact that he’s overseeing our little firefight reinforces how crucial this battle really is for ColaCorp.

Using my targeting monocular, I scan the sloping hills and tall grass behind and above Hamburger Hamlet for our commander’s avatar. RangerSix is the kind of guy who can change a battle with a basic rifle kit and some explosives. As usual I can’t find his hiding place.

Across the river, WonderSoft artillery begins throwing everything they’ve got at us. Head down inside my command post, I crank my speakers to full ambient in-game sound, cutting off Catherine Wheel’s seminal late-twentieth-century album Ferment. I’m waiting to hear RiotGuurl’s turbines. She’s Kiwi’s only hope now.

“Sixty rounds left. How about fire support, RangerSix?” It’s Kiwi.

“Negative at this time.” I hear the quiet frustration in RangerSix’s smoke-stained voice.

“Die in place again, huh?” grunts Kiwi.

Behind me, in the detailed squat bamboo and stone village that is the game designers’ representation of a fictional Southeast Asian river basin village, a place we call Hamburger Hamlet as a nod to the often bloody struggles for online supremacy that take place there, our armor rolls through, retreating farther to the east. We’ve been holding this side of the river, waiting for our massive Charger IV battle tanks to cross the muddy brown shallows under heavy mortar fire. Now, it’s time to bug out.

WonderSoft Garage has always been the key to control of the river crossing at Hamburger Hamlet. There’s no bridge, but the river’s shallow enough to get most vehicles across. Now that the overwatch Kiwi was providing at the garage is on the verge of being taken, the battle, at least here alongside the river, is lost for ColaCorp. Any of our units on the far side of the river aren’t getting back to our lines without an airlift. The game day still promises more fighting. It’s Saturday, and the network goes big on coverage for the weekend. But to lose good armor this early would spell disaster for whatever Command has in mind for us to do next. We’ve gotten the Chargers back to this side of the river. That’s enough for now. We’ll have to fight another battle somewhere else.

“Afraid so, son,” says RangerSix to Kiwi over BattleChat regarding any kind of assistance. Or to be more specific, the complete lack thereof. “Sorry.”

Kiwi doesn’t reply.

An Excerpt from Soda Pop Soldier published first on https://medium.com/@ReloadedPCGames

[viralhottopics]

If I hadnt met Michelle Obama, I might not be where I am today

The first ladys campaigning on education took her all over the world. Here, some of those she met over the years recall her golden touch

Isha Sesay

A presenter and correspondent for CNN International. She travelled with Michelle Obama in Liberia and Morocco last year for the making of the CNN documentary We Will Rise: Michelle Obamas Mission to Educate Girls Around the World

It will be a strange and sad moment for me, a woman of colour, when Michelle Obama leaves the White House. To lose the imagery of a black first family and all that Michelle Obama has bought to the table, all she has actively and routinely worked for. Ive been in the States now for 11 years now but every time they stepped out as the first family it got me. It never lost its potency. She is such an active and participatory first lady. No one knows what kind of first lady Melania Trump will be. No one is saying she wont carve her own path, but Michelle Obama was very special.

I first met her in 2014 when I was invited to the White House to attend a formal dinner for a US/Africa summit. All the heads of state from Africa came to DC along with their first ladies and I was asked to moderate a panel for Mrs Obama and Mrs Bush at the Kennedy Centre. Later an invite came to the formal dinner, which was thrilling. At the White House you wait in line to be introduced and when I got to Mrs Obama she said I almost wore that same dress tonight! And I say No! and she says Yes! and she gave me the biggest hug. She was just amazing, very tall, very warm, she just scooped me up into this big hug the very first time I met her.

The Obamas celebrate people of colour, they want to include them. Both she and the president are skilled at knowing what they can achieve by aligning themselves with other successful people of colour, how it amplifies the message of what is possible. I think they almost do it as a public service. They understand that every time they have Beyonc with them, or John Legend or Jay Z, the message goes further and it opens the minds of kids in the inner cities to the possibilities and I think thats smart.

CNN discussed various projects with the White House and then settled on the first lady going to Africa, for her last overseas trip. [In the documentary Michelle Obama, along with Sesay and actors Freida Pinto and Meryl Streep, meets and speaks with young north African women who describe their struggles to get an education.] I got an email asking how I would feel about travelling to Africa with the first lady and practically had to pick myself up off the floor.

When we were in Liberia I kept watching how she was trying to connect with the girls who spoke, really watching them and willing them on as they struggled in some cases. It was very moving because she really wanted them to feel safe and able to share. Before we arrived I asked the White House about the protocol for the girls who would meet her. How should they address her? Could they touch her? I was able to tell them that from the White House point of view, once youre in the bubble so to speak [through security], once you are in the room with her, youre good. So the girls could touch her, refer to her freely, there were no restrictions placed on interactions with her at all.

We went to hear her talk at the Peace Corps [the US governments volunteer programme] in Monrovia and she just walked into that space and practically blew the roof off with her energy levels. I will say, and Im 41, that whenever Im with her and I listen to her speak you walk out and you are charged by being in her presence, by hearing her words of motivation. Its not just the words she utters, its her conviction and its her life story that backs them up. In Morocco I saw how willing she was to share her own insecurities, her own challenges with the girls. She said to them: Were all girls here together. Were all going to share. How many first ladies in the world can you imagine just busting in and saying: This is girl-talk time? And it resonates authentically. I think maybe thats the difference. Other people say it but she means it.

I last saw her for a special screening of the film at the White House. She was really mischievous. I told her that in Morocco I had been in the souk late at night and as I was wandering around a guy asked me: Are you an Obama? and I looked left and I looked right and I said: Yes, I am! and she roared with laughter. And then she walked into the east room and was doing her intro for everyone, welcoming Meryl Street and Andra Day who did the song [Rise Up] and then it got to me and she said: And by the way, Isha here has been passing herself off as… I almost died.

I am not surprised by her popularity at all. Not now that Ive met her on a couple of occasions. I understand it and I think if more people had the opportunity to spend one-on-one time with her there would be more people clamouring for her to run, because she is that amazing. I mean when she gave that speech during campaigning, when she just laid out her heart and said how offended she was by the Trump video, and the speech she gave during the conventions. I think those speeches really elevated her. I wouldnt want her to stand though. I think shell be far more effective outside the machinery of government. Look at what Hillary Clinton went through and the double standards that were forced upon her. Now imagine what would happen to a black woman the intersection between gender and race is just a whole other ballgame.

I asked her while we were working in Liberia: What will your post-White House years look like? and she said: This. This is what shes committed to doing lifting up girls and ripping off the roof and removing all the limitations girls feel and others impose on them and expanding their horizons. I hope thats what shes able to do. Its what shes good at and she can make such a difference.

Isha Sesay is the founder of WE Can Lead, a non-profit organisation working in Sierra Leone to educate and empower girls.

Tamanna Islam

A 15-year-old student at Mulberry school in east London. After visiting the school in June 2015, Michelle Obama later invited a group of students, including Tamanna, to the White House in November that year

Before she came, there was such a buzz. I was in the main school hall with 300 other students. Everyone was quiet, everyone eagerly awaiting her arrival. When she walked on to the stage, we jumped to our feet clapping, shouting, crying. She brought this incredible vibe and the atmosphere was just electric.

Throughout her speech she made eye contact with everyone, and gave these little smiles. It made it feel so personal, like she was just talking to you. And then, at the end, she hugged every pupil in the front row, including me! She pulled me close, looked me in the eye and told me: Im so proud of you.

I was one of the 20 students selected by my teachers to travel to the White House in Washington DC. When we met her again, she recollected every single detail from her visit: how special it was to see us waving the American flag, how moved she was by our performance of Still I Rise [the Maya Angelou poem]. It was nerve-racking going through all of the security, but once we were inside, Michelle made us feel like we were visiting a friend. In addition to meeting her, we were introduced to lots of senior women working at the White House, such as in the justice and crime department. It was so inspiring and enlightening to see so many women and people from ethnic-minority backgrounds in positions of power.

Michelle Obama understands what it is like to be a young Muslim woman in Tower Hamlets. Your story is my story, she told our school. Growing up in a working-class environment in Chicago, she faced her own sort of unfairness, but she worked hard and showed the world that she could do anything. And if girls like us can raise our aspirations, it shows the rest of Britain, the rest of the world, that we can do anything.

Since meeting her, Ive started to seek out what I can do to make a positive change in my community. She taught me I have a responsibility to use my voice to break down negative stereotypes of Muslim women, and make change for the next generation after that. Her charisma, her energy it makes you feel like you can take on the entire world.

Dr Vanessa Ogden

Headteacher, Mulberry school

We had been approached by the American embassy a couple of months prior about the possibility of helping to launch a project on girls and education, but had no idea that Michelle Obama was involved in any way. Over about a two-month period, it became apparent that we were one of the top two institutions they were looking at and I still had no idea who was fronting the launch. We eventually found out about the visit in May 2015, and had just three weeks to get ready for her arrival in June! I learned a lot in those weeks about how to manage high-level security. One of my favourite, and most surreal, moments was standing in a school conference room, debating with special ops and secret service officers about how to manage the security in a working school environment. Of course I was nervous I had a responsibility to make things as good as they could be, and it was a very high-adrenaline time. But more than anything I just felt hugely appreciative, so grateful for what this could bring to the school.

For me, the most important aspect of the first ladys visit was making sure that every girl at Mulberry should have some kind of interaction with her, whether it was watching her speech, presenting gifts or performing a song. The whole thing, from start to finish, was for the girls. It wasnt about Mrs Obama, it wasnt about the other important people there, it was absolutely for the girls.

Thats the thing about the first lady she has no ego. These visits for her are completely non-hierarchical. Theyre about the person shes meeting, the people shes addressing. She connects with people because of who they are not because of who she is.

For example: one of the things that made the planning so complex was that we arranged to live-stream Michelles speech into the sports hall, so that every girl who couldnt fit in the main hall could experience it at the same time. It was Michelles idea to go and surprise all the girls gathered in the sports hall at the end of the speech. Thats what makes her so special she thinks so carefully and prepares so well for each visit. They had no idea she was coming, and when they saw her, they went absolutely wild.

We visited the White House in November, as part of a 10-day cultural trip to the US. Students underwent a rigorous selection process to take part, which involved attending an after-school civil rights programme, a written application, making a speech in front of a panel of teachers and finally being interviewed by myself and the governors.

After a tour of the west wing and a cuddle (and a selfie) with Bo [the Obamas pet dog], the girls sat down and asked Michelle questions, all of them quite serious. At the end, Michelle leaned forward and said, eyes glittering: Now come on. Lets talk about the things you want to know. For 15 minutes the girls and Mrs Obama chatted on a personal level, as girls and women do every day. Im afraid we made a pact to keep our discussion secret, so I cant reveal if Barack Obama does the chores.

Myesha Haque

A 17-year-old student and aspiring lawyer, who hosted the first lady when she visited Mulberry school

I couldnt believe she was there at first. I had to keep blinking and blinking. Out of all the schools in the UK, all the schools in London, she chose to come to Mulberry, our school! As deputy head prefect, I had been given the responsibility to host the first lady. Because of this, I found out about her visit earlier than any of the other students, which was so hard to keep secret. After taking photos next to the American flag, we began our tour of the school. Even just walking beside her, I was star-struck by her charisma and charm.

Walking into the main Mulberry courtyard with her was an absolutely awe-inspiring moment. The flags were waving, there was cheering, there was clapping. Four hundred students all trying to get a glimpse of her. As she met people, her eyes lit up. Her face, her body language was so uplifting you could just see how happy she was. We walked on to our Year 9 project area, where our choir, conducted by a Year 9 pupil, sang Something Inside So Strong and another student read the poem Still I Rise by Maya Angelou. While the girls were performing the First Lady hugged me to her side and murmured to me, I cannot believe this. This is amazing. I was nervous, but that warmth really comforted me. She felt like a friend, even though shes in high power. That hug was an experience Ill never forget, one Ill cherish for a lifetime.

Her story, of growing up in a working-class environment in Chicago, has made me realise I can all overcome all barriers and challenges in my life, that I can achieve anything. Weve been inspired as Mulberry students to carry on her Let Girls Learn campaign, even after she stops being first lady. Mulberry and Michelle were besties now. Were linked for life.

Ronald Ligon

A 19-year-old graduate of Harper high school, Chicago, and a member of the US military. He met Michelle Obama when she visited his school in April 2013, and was invited to the White House in June that year

All I said was that my favourite food was french fries. But that was enough to make her face split into a big smile and laugh: Thats my favourite too! She got up and hugged me just because I get the same satisfaction from french fries. It was too funny. I just felt like awh, oh my God, this is wonderful.

The first lady came to my school nearly four years ago. She sat down with a group of about 20 of us and asked us questions about our lives, about what its like to grow up in the south side [of Chicago]. For someone that has so much power, she cancelled all of that out. She told us to relax, slouch if we wanted to, make ourselves at home. Im a regular person trying to make a change, just like you are, she said. We didnt have to use big words or act proper to get through to her, we could just be ourselves.

For about three hours we talked to her about the violence in our communities. She wasnt surprised she grew up in Englewood [Chicago] and lived through a bunch of shootings around her house but she was hurt that we have to go through it every single day.

Honestly, If I hadnt met Michelle Obama, I might not be where I am today. Pretty much two weeks after I returned after visiting the first lady in the White House, my family got into a big fight with other people in my community. We ended up losing our home, and for about four to five months we were homeless. The first couple of months I was really low. I didnt want to go to school, I didnt want to do anything. I had no hope.

But then one day I came back to find my mom on the couch crying, saying that she couldnt provide for us, that she had failed our family. It hurt so bad to see her so sad. I remembered, then, how Michelle had told me that no matter what hardships you have, theres always a strong possibility you can overcome them. Looking at my mom sitting there crying, I decided to step up. I got back into school and I got a job working eight hours a day, seven days a week. I got enough money to fix things for my mom and get the house were living in now. I graduated from school and I enrolled in the military. I got back on track because of the first ladys words, because of the honesty and trust that she put in me. I try not to remind myself too much about those times, but whenever Im in a deep situation I always look back on that moment.

Im still not over how Donald Trump won and how were going to lose both the first lady and Barack Obama as well. Im so happy I got to meet her in person, twice, but Im really going to miss them.

Fouzya Toukart

She met Michelle Obama in Morocco in June 2016 as part of her Let Girls Learn initiative and the CNN film We Will Rise

Im the first girl in the family to get a baccalaureate and the first girl in the village to get a BA. I come from an illiterate family: my parents are farmers in the village, they are poor people. Getting an education was like a war for me it felt like everyone was against me. The mentalities in my village are all the same: girls have to marry and have kids and stay home and cook, like machines, and thats it.

In primary school I was top of my class but my family decided I would not go to secondary school. It was really hard for me, but I went on a hunger strike when I was 12 and I convinced them to let me go. The secondary school was very far, seven kilometres each way, and I was the only girl. In the beginning my parents were not convinced, but after I kept getting the highest grades, I could see in their faces that they were satisfied and proud. I got a BA in English in Marrakesh, and my goal is to get a doctorate and be a translator and linguist I speak Amazigh, Arabic, French, English and Japanese.

I met Michelle Obama in Marrakech in June, just when I was doing my final exam, and meeting her was like a push for continuing. The thing I remember most is that she saw me and said: Yes, I read a lot about you and I remember you that was really awesome. I also met Meryl Streep and Freida Pinto, and they were very kind-hearted and friendly too. Later I had a week in Washington DC it was my first time flying anywhere and met Michelle Obama again there. They say Washington gets busy and loud, but it was super fun.

Michelle Obama has helped so many people, and shes always been the person who fights for something which is very good for our society. With education were going to find solutions for so many problems in life. My message for all the girls around the world who dont have the opportunity to go and study, I just want to tell them that if I can do it, they can do it too, whatever the boundaries they can be overcome.

Cindy Sanders

A counsellor at King college prep in Chicago. Fifteenyear-old schoolgirl Hadiya Pendleton, who attended King, was shot and killed in 2013

I met Michelle Obama during Hadiyas funeral. She felt compelled to come to Chicago and pay her respects to Cleopatra and Nate [Pendleton, Hadiyas parents], not necessarily as the first lady but as a mom, to support another mother who had lost her child. It was very moving that she would put all of her stuff on hold for the funeral. Two years later she spoke at the graduation of the class that Hadiya would have graduated in. It was a bittersweet graduation because of this, but everybody was excited, because weve never had a speaker of this calibre. The students will remember that for ever, that Michelle Obama was the graduation speaker for their class. She talked about how she came from just this community, and how the students have so many options, and that anything is possible with an education. We all got to take photos with her and talk to her. She congratulated us, and thanked us for doing a great job with the students.

Having a first lady from the south side of Chicago means everything. Shes like the peoples first lady, and shes definitely Chicagos first lady. She was very personable: she was giving hugs, she was giving motivation. And not just surface motivation; it was because she had been in a Chicago public school. And to see what she accomplished, having a similar background and a similar upbringing it was powerful. Its very inspiring to see that with hard work and determination you can be anything.

In Chicago the whole issue of gun control is so polarised: people are getting killed by guns, and we need to do something about this. We dont want parents losing their teenage children. I have a teenager too in the city of Chicago and so we definitely need to speak up on that. And when you have the first lady championing causes it definitely puts some weight with it.

Ill miss her being in that office, but the good thing is shes still going to champion those causes shes still going to care about helping children reach higher, and having counsellors support them. Shes tough but shes also down to earth. And well miss her putting on her jeans and being on Ellen and challenging her to dance-offs.

Kyra Caldwell

A 19-year-old former student at King college prep and friend of Hadiya Pendleton

When my friend Hadiya passed, Michelle Obama ended up coming to the funeral. They had a few people in a separate room before the funeral started, and she came in went around and shook our hands. I was with a friend and we were so nervous we were about to shake hands with Michelle Obama, the first African American to be first lady in the White House. She came over and gave us both hugs, and gave us words of encouragement. The fact that she hugged me was just crazy to me. Usually youd think people who are famous would act fake, but she was the complete opposite when I spoke to her it was very calm and normal, very natural. She also came to speak at our graduation and gave a really motivational speech, which was really exciting.

Our school had done this FAFSA challenge [a video for the Free Application for Federal Student Aid]: it was Scandal-themed [after the US TV political drama series] and we sent it in to Michelle Obama. She then sent it to the cast of Scandal and got them to make a video telling us how good our video was. So you had [characters] Olivia Pope and Huck and Abby saying we did a good FAFSA challenge thats something Ill always remember.

Its very reassuring that shes another woman of colour from the south side of Chicago. I feel like once youre born and raised here you always have a connection to it, wherever you go. She went to the same high school as my mother, so it makes it seem more real: anybody can go anywhere, no matter where youre from. I also attended Tuskegee University in Alabama, and I found out that she had also spoken at a graduation there, so I was thinking: Is this a sign that Im going to be the first lady next time?

When I think of Michelle Obama, reassuring is the word I think of. Shes brilliant she went to two Ivy League schools [Princeton and Harvard Law School] and has done all these great things. Its definitely something to look up to. Im now studying occupational therapy, and after this the plan is to go to a really good physical therapy school so I can get my doctorate. Michelle said we can do anything, so I believe it.

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#If I hadnt met Michelle Obama #I might not be where I am today