#good luck with your term paper this year i guess

[pluviophile-lina]

god help me wash my hair i look terrible and i need to see my psychiatrist today

#but maybe if don't wash my hair i'll save some time for both of us #she'll be like #yeah you're fucked #good luck with your term paper this year i guess #that'll be 70 dollars

[constantinerkives]

PAIRING: Swim Team Captain! Yoo Jimin x Photojournalist! Fem reader _________________ WARNINGS: College AU, tsundere Karina, strangers to lovers trope, and fluff. OC is Pisces-coded but has a Capricorn rising sign and Capricorn Mercury because I am too, random I know but anyways, profanity, Jimin is aloof but cute and I like it, profanity, that's pretty much it, I guess. _________________ SYNOPSIS: Who knew falling into the pool was one surefire way of getting the swimming team captain's eye. _________________ A/N:

You asked I shall deliver. I based this one-shot on a song: Rose, by Taeyong and Seulgi. Have fun reading!

"Will it be okay for you to fill in Ryujin's stead?" Wendy, the senior EIC of the school paper, asks with her fingers knotted atop her office desk. "She got sick two days ago. I know it's sudden, and I understand if you don't-"

"I'll do it," You tell the older girl with a polite smile, "If my memory serves me correctly - she was assigned to take pictures of the inter-school competition of our swimming team, yes?"

Wendy mirrors your smile, albeit warmer. Her posture relaxed. "Yes. Yes, Y/N. And it's this weekend." 

You recount your task, "Then you're in luck, Wendy. I'm free this weekend." 

The brunette heaves a sigh of relief, "Good. That will be all, Miss Choi. You can go." You bowed your head in acknowledgment before exiting her office and proceeded to the university library to meet with your friend and confidant: Yunjin, who needs a copy of your captured photos for the school paper. 

"There you are," You whisper and sit next to the younger raven-haired beauty who's busy typing on her laptop. "What did Wendy want from you?" The latter inquires without tearing her eyes from the screen. "A substitute for Ryujin," You answer her as you lean next to her; eyes following the sea of words that showed events during the last competition. "Are you almost done?"

The raven-haired beauty mutters something decipherable, and you just let her be. 

"Okay," She stretches her back and gestures an open palm toward you. "The USB?"

You arch a brow at her, "Please?"

She mirrors your expression, "The USB, please, Y/N?"

A teasing grin graces your lips as you fish for it in your jacket pocket and give it to her. "Jeez," The latter grumbles before plugging it into her laptop. "Where and what?"

"Here at our university. I'll be taking the pictures of our swimming team." 

Finally, Yunjin tears her eyes off her screen and blinks at you. "A sports-based competition?" She muses, "That's a first." 

Indeed, for years that you've been a photojournalist, you were assigned to academic-based competitions. "That means you get to see Yonsei's pride." 

"Younsei's - what?"

She gives you a look, "For a journalist, you're not updated with the times here, Y/N. What would Wendy say?"

You scowl at her, "You can't blame me for being assigned to Academics, Yunjin." You brush her off, "Anyway. What about Yonsei's pride?" She curls her lips to a sardonic smile before typing away and presenting you with a photo of the team wearing Yonsei's varsity jackets and swimming trunks. There are four of them, and three of them are familiar to you: Sungchan, the first one on the right. Hyunjin is first on the left and Minjeong who's standing next to Hyunjin. 

You're familiar with the three of them. All except one. A girl standing in between Minjeong and Sungchan. The girl possesses fair skin, a small face, a V-shaped jaw, big yet fierce dark brown eyes, and a lithe physique. "So the team is the pride of the university?"

"No," She zooms in the photo of the girl. "She is. That's Karina Yoo, their captain." 

"She looks mean," You observed, and Yunjin chuckled, "You're not wrong."

Your jaw slacks, "Really?"

The latter hums in agreement and pauses. "A bitch is an appropriate term, bestie." You frown at her, "That's a bit too much." 

She scoffs at you, "Try interacting with her this weekend, and we'll see." 

"Whatever," You huffed and eyed your USB, "Are you done uploading my pictures to your folder?"

Yunjin unplugs it and places it atop the table. "Yep, thanks, girl." 

You observe the team from the bleachers with your camera in your hands as cheers ricochet against the walls of the spacious gym upon seeing your team make their appearance from the ground floor. Yonsei's team wore their signature swimsuit with the university's logo placed on the left lower front area of the men's swimming trunks, while for the women: it's located on the right upper breast of their partial bodysuit. 

You're not too far to get a clear shot. 

The girls of your university squealed when Sungchan flexed his toned body. Although impervious to such behavior, you can't help but admire the body of the swimmer before moving your gaze onto Minjeong, who waved at her fellow peers. Both men and women cheered for the auburn-haired girl while Hyunjin put his arm around Sungchan, who also waved to Yonsei's students.

"That's three of them," You tell yourself amongst the noise, "Where's the captain?" 

As if the universe answered, she finally appeared, and you swore you were about to go deaf due to their screams and cheers amplifying. 

Your eyes followed their gaze, and your jaw slacked. 

Karina Yoo's photos did not do her justice; she's drop-dead gorgeous in real life, and her lithe body is just a bonus to the grace that the girl exudes. You examine the captain. She couldn't be older than twenty-three.

"KARINA! KARINA! KARINA!" The students chant as she stands beside Minjeong - awaiting their opposing team while she converses with her team by huddling them. You take it as an opportunity to take their photo. 

But as you take another shot, Karina's eyes flicker in your direction.

Did she? Uncertainty and confusion seep into your thoughts as if you were shamelessly caught. 

You instinctively put your camera down. 

She returns her gaze to her members and continues speaking while they nod. You zoom the lens and take their photo. But this time, you don't put your camera down when Karina's sharp eyes look in your direction. There's something about her gaze that makes you fix your relaxed posture; as if she's looking through your camera, and it makes you feel small - that intense gaze of hers. 

You didn't take a picture and instead put your camera down. Perhaps the captain's sharp, piercing gaze meant that was enough as she and her team moved away from each other, but she stayed next to Minjeong and leaned close to the shorter girl's ear. The auburn-haired girl's eyes flicked in your direction before saying something to the taller girl. 

Paranoia creeps into your body. It's not like you have done something wrong, right? You were merely doing your job as a photojournalist for Yonsei. You tear your gaze from the pair and see the team they're competing against. 

You take it as your cue to descend from the bleachers as Karina's team makes their way to their assigned benches, leaving Hyunjin alone with his competitor. 

While descending from the bleachers, you can feel someone's eyes following you as you make your way to the indoor pool with your camera ready. You didn't dare look in fear of seeing that intense gaze as the referee blew his whistle for the two representatives of the opposing team, and make their way to the edge of the pool's ledge. 

"On your mark!" The referee bellows, "Get set. Go!"

You ready your camera. 

Sometime later, it was the captain's turn. 

Your peers chant the captain's name as she made her way to the pool's ledge. 

Due to your proximity to the pool's side, you locked eyes with her, and you swallowed harshly under her harsh gaze. 

"Jeez," You mutter as you tear your eyes from the older girl. "What's her deal?"

"On your mark!" The referee once again bellows, "Get set. Go!"

True to her title, Karina Yoo is Yonsei's pride. And so is the other members - they won and will be competing for the nationals three months from now. 

After the game, your peers went down to take pictures with the winning team. By this time, they change into dry clothes with towels draped over their shoulders, and you are standing next to the pool, checking your shots, when you hear your female colleagues scream Karina's name from behind. Out of curiosity, you look back to see a group of them running toward you - correction, you look in front to see the captain approaching them, leaving you beset on both sides.

Before you can react, one of them pushes you aside. Your eyes widen, and you instinctively put your hand where you're holding your camera up as you fall into the pool. 

"Oh no!" One of the students yell as you surface up with a gasp, look at your dry camera, and sigh in relief. "Are you okay?" One of them asks as they approach you intending to help. 

"Yes," You gasp, "Take the camera - be careful with it, please?" The student nods in compliance and takes your camera. 

You can feel holes burning on the side of your face, and without thinking, you look to the source and see Karina standing at the edge of the pool with wide eyes, her posture stiff and rigid, as if repulsed by the sight of you violating their pool. 

You flush under her gaze and reluctantly take the students' hands as they help you out of the pool and hurriedly take your camera from the other student. 

"Thank you," You tell them with a flushed face as you hastily exit the gym - facing burning with shock and humiliation. 

"Told you," Yunjin sneers, "A bitch." 

A whine leaves your lips as you slam your head against your desk. "Shut up - at least the students helped me." It's been a week since the minor incident, and you told Yunjin after you change into dry clothes in the university dorm. 

"Yeah," She snorts, "While the captain just glowers at you as if - what did you say?" She snaps her fingers, "Ah, as if you contaminated the pool." Then, she snickers. You glare at her while her lips curl to a teasing grin. 

"Whatever," You poke your tongue at her, and she relents by putting her hands up in mock surrender. "Look at the bright side," Your friend counters, "At least your camera's safe." 

"Yeah," You half-heartedly agree, "But I think I'm traumatized."

"Should I book your therapy?" She quips, "Oh wait, you're broke."

You scoff at her, "And? So are you." She stares at you, and you mimic her reaction before you two giggle as more students occupy the lecture hall. 

"Alright, students!" The professor says aloud as soon as he enters the room. "Take your seats - we have a new student joining us this semester." 

Murmurs echo while you and Yunjin share their curious looks as the older man looks at the entrance door. "Come in and introduce yourself." A familiar figure enters the room, and the class erupts with cheers and yells as Karina stands before all of you in casual wear in all-black: a cardigan with white accents, a tube top, denim jeans, and chunky sneakers, her hair is styled to a low, neat bun as she eyes the class, her gaze instantly meeting yours. You flinched and looked away from her and at Yunjin, who, in turn, looked at you. Both faces express surprise. 

"The fuck?" Yunjin mutters while you return to the new student, gaping. 

"I'm Karina Yoo," She announces, her voice is steely and attention-grabbing. "But most, if not all of you, know me as Yonsei's pride." 

The class yells and whistles in agreement. The professor holds his palm up, and the class quiets down. "Alright," Your professor gestures a hand at the vacant seats, "Thank you, Miss Yoo. You may take any seat." The captain bows her head and ascends to the elevated rows of seats with each student eyeing her expectantly for her to sit next to them. 

You quickly turn to Yunjin and grumble: "Just when I thought I'm finally free from what happened last week." She snickers at you, "Sucks to be you, my traumatized friend." 

A muffled pained groan reverberates from your lips, but you quickly stiffen as the captain walks past your row and takes a sit two seats above you. You sigh in relief and return your gaze to your professor preparing his presentation. 

"That bad, huh?" Yunjin observes as she takes out her laptop. 

"Yeah," You whisper. 

There it is again, that familiar burning feeling; as if someone's burning holes in the back of your head - it's the same feeling. But you chose to ignore it. Thirty minutes into the lecture, you couldn't ignore the feeling anymore and slowly peer over your shoulder. You almost jumped from your seat upon locking eyes with the swim captain. Her notebook lay forgotten. Instead, she was looking at you while the side of her face rested against her fist. Your skin prickles at the intensity, and you can feel your face flushing as her lips visibly curl upwards before slowly moving her gaze to the professor.

You quickly looked away from her and tried to focus on the discussion. But Professor Lee's words came and went out of your head. All you could do was mindlessly take notes and pictures of his slides and promise yourself that you'll go over your notes tonight. 

It went on for days; you could've been used to it now. But you're not. 

"I'm not being delusional, right?" You lock eyes with your friend, looking for reassurance. "I mean, it's not like I did something bad. I fell on the pool, for fuck's sake." You vent while the latter closes her laptop and sighs. "Have you tried asking her what's her problem?" 

You give her a look, "Are you kidding me?"

The raven-haired girl shrugs nonchalantly, "I mean - if you want an answer from her, just ask her directly." 

"Easier said than done," You mutter while she yawns. "I'll just ignore it, I guess? I mean, no harm, no foul, right?"

"Yeah," The latter looks at you, her relaxed expression turning serious. "But if she does something that makes you uncomfortable. Tell me immediately." On cue, the microwave dings. Dinner's ready. You're currently in her apartment; you can work together on your paper for the interschool competition due tomorrow. 

"I will," You smile at her and stand from her couch to grab your dinner. 

"Oh - come on!" You yell as the copies of the printed announcements; the latest news regarding the competition get whisked away by a couple of rushing students late for class. You put the other documents down on the floor, but not without putting your phone on top to ensure it doesn't fly away as you begin picking them from the floor. 

"Hey," A slightly deep feminine voice calls your attention, "You missed this last one."

"Oh?" You turn around and freeze as the captain of the swimming team holds the copy for you. You gawk at her while she moves her line of sight to the paper she's holding. 

"I look good in this photo," She remarks before looking at you. Her voice sounds softer this time. "Not bad for a picture taken from quite a distance." 

"Thanks," You smile politely at the older girl as you grip the papers you're holding to calm your nerves. She raises her brow and gently flaps the paper. "My hand's getting tired. Aren't you going to get it?"

"Right," You stammer and wince at the sound of your voice as you tentatively take the paper from her, and the latter walks away without saying a word. 

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding as you looked at the paper she gave you before putting it with the rest. And as you continue your day, you couldn't help but replay the odd interaction you had with the captain. 

"Weird," Yunjin muses as you take your designated seats for your proceeding lecture which is in ten minutes - but something's out of the ordinary. 

There's a rose atop your desk with a pink ribbon tied around its stem. 

The taller girl looks at you with a playful grin, "Someone's into you." 

You roll your eyes at her and sit down, "Must be for another person." You say as you carefully examine the rose to ensure there's a tag - and that it's for the right person. You freeze in your seat, and Yunjin bends to read the tag in perfect handwriting and snickers. "It's yours, Y/N." 

A frown creeps in your features, "But who-"

"Keep it," She shrugs and leans closer, "What else does it say?"

"Nothing," 

The raven-haired hums and takes her seat next to you. "Anyways, keep it."

You look at her with a questioning look, "Why?"

"As evidence that someone has a good eye and chose my BFF, duh?"

You let out an exasperated groan and playfully pushed her shoulder. "Oh, shut up." 

Yunjin was about to say something when she closed her mouth, and her expression became guarded. You furrow your brows and slowly follow her gaze, "What's the matter-" Your words die in your throat as Karina takes her seat next to you. Your eyes widen to the point that they were about to pop out from their sockets and snap your neck in Yunjin's reaction; eyes asking for her aid. 

"Karina," Yunjin softly clears her throat, "What's the sudden change of places?"

"So I can see better," She answers curtly. Yunjin arches a brow, "You don't seem to have a problem being two seats away for the past couple of days?"

You sit there awkwardly while the two exchange cold pleasantries. 

Karina shifts in her seat and looks past you, "I'd like to sit here so I won't miss any key points in the professor's lecture. What's it to you?"

Yunjin opens her mouth, but you look at her, head shaking sideways. 

The latter huffs, "Alright then, enjoy the view." 

"Thanks," Karina monotonously replies as more students pile into the lecture hall. You look down at the rose and shrug, "Alright Yunjin," You delicately pick up the rose and insert it into your tote bag carefully. "I'll keep it, my bedside needs decorating anyway."

From the corner of your eye, you can see Karina looking at the rose before tearing her gaze as the professor enters the venue. 

"Alright students, settle down and prepare your books, notebooks, laptops - whatever you need to keep notes. We'll begin shortly."

Forty minutes into the lecture, you missed the previous slide. 

"Crap," You mutter, and just as you're about to ask Yunjin if she copied the previous slide, Karina slides her phone next to you. 

The screen showed a picture of the slide you missed. "Here," She whispers. You blink at her while she continues to take her notes. She must've sensed your staring and sighed, "Are you going to copy that or what?"

You snap from your reverie, "Right, right. Sorry - thank you." You whispered to her and copied the slide she pictured before sliding her phone back to her but made no move to put it back in her bag. 

"I saw that," Yunjin whispers, and you jump from your seat.

"Next slide - is everything okay up there, Miss Choi?" The professor calls. Your cheeks redden as all the students, including the captain, turn to look at you. Your cheeks burn, "Yes sir, sorry." 

He hums, "Moving on..."

Sometime later, it was lunchtime; you and Yunjin decided to eat outside of campus. 

"So Chaewon recommended this restaurant," She opens the door for you while you carry both your laptop bags, "They sell good meat here and noodles here." 

"You've been mentioning her a lot," You comment as you take a vacant table. The latter makes a face at you before looking at the menu displayed above the counter, "What do you want to eat?"

"I'll take spicy chicken and jjajangmyeon." 

"Cool. Sit here. I'll go order." 

You open your laptop, "And I'll pay you later." The taller girl hums and goes to the counter while you work on your task. "Do my eyes deceive me?" Another feminine voice speaks from the side. You look up from your screen, "Giselle," You greet the captain of the debate team with a smile as you close your laptop. The Korean-Japanese mirrors your smile as she inserts her hands in her jacket pocket. "It's been a while, Y/N. Are you going to eat alone?"

"No," You gesture a hand towards Yunjin who looks back and sends the other a wave. "Yunjin's eating with me. How about you? Are you going to eat alone?"

The brunette shakes her head sideways, "No, I'm also going to eat with someone." The door opens, and Giselle looks back. "There you are, Karina." 

You fought the urge to drop your smile as you locked eyes with the captain of the swimming team. "Giselle," The captain regards, "You invited someone for lunch too?"

"No, no." She chuckles and pats your shoulder, "This is Y/N, the photojournalist who came with us four months ago for the nationals." She then gestures a hand towards her friend, "Y/N is this-"

"Karina Yoo," You finish for her with a polite smile, "We're classmates in Professor Lee's class." 

There's a look on Giselle's face that you couldn't decipher as her eyes lit up.

"Ah, I see." She looks at Karina, who seems busy looking at the menu, and then looks at the two of you. "I'll order for us." 

"Alright, alright." Giselle agrees, "I'll go get us a table." Without another word, Karina left. The debate captain looks at you with a knowing smile as Yunjin arrives at your table with iced tea, "Hey, Gi." Yunjin greets her with a grin as she puts your drinks on the table. "Hey Jen," She gives you another pat, "I'll see you two around campus, yeah?"

A hum leaves your throat as you watch the latter take a sit two tables away from you and Yunjin as more people enter the restaurant. "So," Yunjin clears her throat, "Care to tell me what was Karina sharing with you during Professor Lee's class?"

You shrug and sip your beverage, "Nothing, it was just the slide I missed." 

"Okay, but what about the time your documents flew away?"

A frown graces your lips, "She was just helping." 

Yunjin hums, and you lean closer. "What? What is it?"

"Nothing," She nonchalantly replies, "It's just that Karina's overall mean attitude seems to tone down with you, that's all." 

"Astute observation, Yunjin." You roll your eyes at her, "Maybe she's just being a decent person? We're classmates, after all."

"Oh, yeah?" She challenges, "How come she doesn't give a damn about others?"

You open your mouth, but no words come out to your defense, and Yunjin's smirk makes you close it. 

"I don't know," 

"Be observant, Y/N." She clicks her tongue, "Who knows, maybe you got the Yoo privilege." 

You look at her incredulously, "I beg your pardon?"

"Yoo privilege," She snickers, "You like it? I made it while I was making my astute observation, and by that, I mean you have the privilege of her toning down her attitude toward you. I mean, she could be the one who placed the rose on your desk three days ago." 

You know where this conversation's going. "Are you saying that she likes me?"

"Maybe," She grins, "Observe her, Y/N. Observe how she acts with others; how she acts with you. Then you'll know."

You consider that as the waiter arrives with your order. You sense a familiar from the side of your face. You look up from your food and meet her dark brown eyes.

And this time, you didn't flinch.

You took Yunjin's advice and observed the captain. 

It wasn't hard to observe her. She was never far from you, which made it easy to detect whether she was looking at you before talking to her friends. 

But that still doesn't account for the roses on your desk. You tried, but with the number of deadlines piling up in journalism, you had to put your observation on pause. 

"Jesus!" You snap as one of the student's coffee spills on your shirt. Murmurs echo in the hall upon witnessing an incident. "God - I'm sorry-"

"Forget it," You snap at the student as you pull the drenched fabric away from your skin and gesture for the student to go away, "Just go." 

"Sorry again." The man says before awkwardly walking away while the others lose interest and walk away. "Fuck," You swore as you run your hand through your hair. "How the fuck am I supposed to go to the press conference looking like this?" You hiss as you swing your bag to the front to get your wipes. You hear footsteps approaching you and you scowl thinking it's the man who spilled coffee on you. 

"Man," You sigh without looking in their direction. "You don't need to come here and-"

"Y/N," Your ears perk at the familiar tone, and you slowly turn around to face Karina standing before you with her fist securing her monogram jacquard jacket. 

"Karina," You greet with slight surprise, "What are you doing here?"

She shakes her jacket, "Wear this." 

"I beg your pardon?"

Instead of frowning, she keeps her face calm and uses her other hand to gesture at your shirt. "I can see the outline of - well, you know..."

You look down, and your face flushes, and with your other hand, you cover your upper body while the other takes her jacket. But you stop upon seeing the logo of her jacket, and sheepishly look at her. 

"What's wrong?" She inquires. "I can't take this - it's expensive." 

Karina shifts her weight on the other foot. "You'll be late for your press conference if you don't take it, Y/N." She tells you with a tone that leaves no argument. Without another word, she leaves the hall, leaving you with her jacket. 

A frustrated sigh leaves your lips as you look at the expensive article of clothing before delicately donning it. 

"Woah," Yunjin muses upon seeing you enter the venue. "I know that isn't yours, Y/N. Whose is it?"

"Karina's," You take a seat next to her. The latter let out a mock gasp. "Yoo privilege." 

"Shut up, Yunjin." 

After the conference, you stop by the EIC's office only to be greeted with roses and a freshly brewed ice latte on your desk. 

"There you are!" Wendy grins as she stands next to you, "I receive our handler's feedback. You and Yunjin did a great job on the inter-school paper!"

"Yeah," You answer distractedly, "Who brought these on my desk?"

"Ah," Wendy frowns, "I didn't catch her name." 

Her?

You turn to your EIC, "Can you describe her for me? What was she wearing?"

The older girl pauses in thought. "Well, she was wearing a brushed ribbed knit top, white denim jeans with a beige tag on its left pocket, and black boots."

Exactly what Karina wore when she gave you her jacket. 

"I see," You mutter, and Wendy's face contorts with curiosity, "Why'd you ask?"

You brush her off, "It's nothing, thanks, Wendy." 

The latter smiles, "No problem," She then turns to leave the room. "Enjoy your iced latte!"

Once the older girl is out of sight, you quickly take the rose with a tag on it, it read:

I'm rooting for you at the press conference; I hope you like iced latte to savor your victory. 

-yjm

"YJM?" You move your line of sight to the iced latte, and beads of cold water slides down from the plastic cup. A smile creeps on your lips as you bring the cup's straw to your lips and take a sip, allowing the iced beverage to slide into your throat smoothly. You sigh in refreshment and place the drink on your desk. Your hands take the roses, careful from the thorns that could prick you as you study the delicate flower. 

"Yunjin will hear about this." 

"No way," She cackles, "So she lent you her jacket and even sent roses and an iced latte to the office? Damn, Y/N. You won in life." 

You carefully pick up the jacket and raise it, "How do I clean this?"

Yunjin takes the clothing from you, "Leave it to me. I know a place where they clean luxury clothing." 

"Alright," You sigh and collapse on her couch. "Oh, and Y/N?"

"Yeah?" You answer aloud as Yunjin makes her way back to the living room. "Did you know Girl's Generation is having a concert in Gocheok Sky Dome?"

Your ears perk, and you sit up straight, "No? When?"

"Two days from now," She tells you and frowns, "You didn't know?"

You give her a look, "I'm not updated - I've been busy." 

"Right," She sighs, "Why?"

"Chaewon got a ticket for me - I can give it to you if-"

"Woah, Yunjin," You stop her by grasping her shoulder. "She gave it to you. You're the one she invited to go with her. It would be rude if you gave it to someone else." 

Her features remain concerned, "Are you sure? Chaewon would understand-"

"Yunjin," You exasperated a sigh, "It's fine. She invited you."

A genuine smile graces your lips. "I'll be fine. Just remember to make a fan cam for me, yeah?"

The next day, Yunjin gives you Karina's jacket: freshly cleaned and neatly pressed. 

While conversing on your way to Professor Lee's class, your eyes shift to the entrance only to be greeted by Karina leaning her back against the wall next to the door. 

"Oh shit," Yunjin snickers quietly, and you nudge her by the elbow. "Sh,"

"Karina!" You call out and was about to give her jacket back when she cuts you off. "Just give it to me after Professor Lee's class." 

Confused, but you comply as she enters the room. You and Yunjin follow suit as your peers begin to fill the lecture hall. 

While the older man is discussing, Karina slides next to you, startling you with a jump as she ducks her head and drops her voice an octave lower. "I have something for you after class. Is it okay if we remain after everyone else left?"

You tear your eyes from the presentation to look at her. Your cheeks heat up as you meet Karina's soft, warm gaze, but her attractive face swims with uncertainty at your would-be reply. 

A soft smile creeps on your lips, "Sure, Karina. What is it anyway?"

Her features soften, and surprise etches on your face as her lips quirk to a playful smile. That's a first.

"It's a surprise," She winks before returning to her original position. 

You gape at her, surprised by this new side of her. You can't wait to know what she has in store for you after Mr. Lee's class. 

Fifty minutes later, the older gentleman dismisses the class. Everyone left except for you, Karina, and Yunjin. 

"You go first," You tell the raven-haired girl. Yunjin flashes you a grin before getting her bag, but not without whispering: "Yoo privilege" against your ear before leaving.

You huff at the latter as you get the paper bag containing Karina's jacket and hand it to her. "Here you go, Karina." 

The older girl looks at the paper bag and smiles. "Can you stand up?"

How odd, "Sure." 

You comply with her innocent request and hand the bag to her. "Here you go," 

Her lips tugged to a downward smile and retrieves the bag. "Thanks, Y/N."

You let out a hum while you two stand in silence. A sigh leaves the older girl's lips before she laughs lightly - and it sounds pleasant like chimes in the wind. 

"Ah - this is not what I envisioned it." She guffaws and scratches her nape. You can't help but chuckle at the older girl's disposition. "Take your time," You assure the raven-haired beauty as she inhales sharply. Is she new to this? How adorable, you thought to yourself as she closes her eyes and puffs her cheeks. 

"Ok," She opens them and clears her throat. "I'm afraid that I've made a bad impression when we first met, Y/N." She sighs, "Which is why I'm going to change that tomorrow."

Tomorrow? What does she mean?

On cue, she brings out a bouquet - well not really. More like two tickets wrapped in pink silk with a pastel ribbon secured around it. 

"I hope you like concerts, Y/N. Especially Girl's Generation."

My, did your heart skip a beat?

"Will you be my date for the concert, Y/N Choi?"

"Yes," You breathe, and Karina's smile morphs into a delighted grin. 

"You just made me the happiest girl, Y/N." 

Fin.

#karina x reader #constantinewrites #aespa x reader #kpop oneshots #kpop imagines #female reader #yoo jimin x reader #yoo jimin #karina x fem reader #yoo jimin x fem reader #Yoo Privilege

[alatismeni-theitsa]

Hi Theitsa! half Greek in America here, looking for translation help and you're the only blogger I know 😭

long story short: my family on my mom's side all practice Greek folk magic, with my great-grandma and(possibly my great aunt)apparently being "completely" a witch.

i grew up with it but i'm still learning the language and my family disowned me for being gay so I can't ask for help with research.

the most commonly used term for "witch" is "magissa"/ μάγισσα right?? is μαγεία more common for magic in general? when I'm using Google translate γητεία seems to be the most common term for folk sorcery.

and i see the practices of Circe referred to as μαγγάνεια??

thank you for your help if you know anything, I know it's a niche topic.

bless you!!!

Hii! Dear anon I'm very sorry for what your family did to you :/ That's nor fair at all! May you thrive and be always blessed in your life!

This topic is not niche, actually! The average Greek in the country has some basic contact and knowledge of such stuff either by doing some or by hearing of them. I haven't talked a lot about Magganeia/Vaskaneia in Greece so let's do a Masterpost!

(Greeks with deeper knowledge please add to this post and let me know if something is inaccurate! All I have is "average Greek" knowledge but well, someone has to make the start.)

People throughout Greece (as in the whole Balkans and the Middle East tbh) practice a lot of customs to bring good energy and good things to them or expel bad energies and bad things. The most prevalent being the ritual of xematiasma (the prayer for which needs to be passed down by the opposite sex on a full moon), or customs with bridal koufeta for young girls to attract a good groom, reading the coffee and the palm, explaining dreams (and having recorded oneirokrites), giving new year talismans for good luck (mati beads, pomegranate charms, horseshoes) and hanging them around the home, or baking a pie to St. Fanourios if you want to find something you lost etc etc.

Traditionally such practices in Greece are intertwined with local customs and herb knowledge and it's not a big "issue" like it would be for USAmerican (cultural or practicing) Evangelicals. In Greece it's acceptable to do many things that in the US would be considered "witchcraft" but here they're just "tradition".

For Greeks the basic stuff I mentioned in the first paragraph is widely accepted to the point many of them have fused with church practices through the centuries. Coffee shops where one can have their coffee and palm read - although not many - have lots of customers. Tarot readers also have a good clientele. I've heard Greeks dismiss such stuff as "nonsense" but rarely dismiss them as "evil". Actually, the comments about such practices being evil here are very tame and usually connected to the church - but not in the US way.

Our Church might have cried about such practices in the past but... who listens to the church on these things! :P (only a few do) Our insistence on keeping folk practice led to Greece having no witch hunts or any witches burnt for at least a thousand years now!

Map of witchhunts in early modern Europe (source)

There is a line here, too, of course. Like, if one uses a heart from a mouse wrapped in an oak leaf bathed in frog bile to expel the bad spirits (a spell I just made up) that's officially "witchcraft" and we find it weird at best. More mild stuff like burning wishes written on paper or letting garlic absorb bad energies and then burn it are middle ground and not outright condemned - I feel the Greeks have a great tolerance of what is considered "folk tradition" to them.

The fear of being "pagan" in recent centuries is a Western panic. Traditionally Greeks and their Church were most worried about harmful spells (which included harming an animal or human in the process) and calling demons to do your bidding. If you called a saint for help in a non-harming spell... hmm that wouldn't be that worrying I guess. As long as you didn't ask a priest's opinion, you'd be fine :P

The sum of acceptable and unacceptable practices by the Greek public can be called "μαγγανεία" or "βασκανεία". Because they include unacceptable practices as well, the words have a negative connotation.

"Μαγεία" for Greeks is connected more to the Western archetype of a wizard with a tall hat going around with a big rod shouting "abracadabra". It's connected more to fantasy and fairytales. Traditionally I don't think we used μάγος/μάγισσα for people who did such practices. Even today I've yet to hear Greeks who call themselves witches say "κάνω μαγικά".

I'd say μαγγανεία or βασκανεία are the appropriate terms for what your great-grandma practiced. The spells are traditionally called γητείες (sing. γητεία). The word γόης which now means "very charming man" meant "sorcerer" in ancient years. We just use it metaphorically today. These words all have the same linguistic root.

Nowadays I haven't heard men call themselves "μάγος" but some women call themselves "μάγισσα", and they do "ξόρκια" (comes from εξορκισμός, exorcism - the English version of the Greek word). I think "μάγισσες" practice more Western types of magic because they learned the spells from Western European or US books and videos. I don't know if a practicer of Greek folk spells would be called the same.

I must note that all the above is the reason why when USAmericans practice Greek customs to worship the Greek gods and call themselves "pagans" feels a bit unsettling to me. I suppose if you add crystal balls and tarot and crystals to the practice that would shift it more to the "witchy" side (although as a Greek I'm quite flexible :P) But more than once I've seen USians call themselves "pagans" for simple acts of worship which are very much non-pagan. Having a home altar with the gods along with some blessed items and candles burning... is Basic Christian Orthodox stuff too, a tradition unbroken from ancient years (εικονοστάσια με καντήλια, κεριά, λουλούδια, κομποσκοίνια).

At the same time, I understand that in their society this can be called "being pagan" so I'm not saying that my view is the only one that matters in this. But some knowledge of the Greek culture always helps if you're practicing its customs. It will also help the Westerners stop calling Orthodoxes "savage pagans" for our religious practices after a thousand years :))))

Thanks for making it this far! Get a small bonus: a great article on ancient Greek "bindings/wishes" which is in Greek and it will be probably still fine if translated through Google.

Some things might differ between areas and eras so that's why I welcome other Greeks to comment here with their own experiences and stories of "witches" (or whatever they called them) if their areas had any.

#vaskania #magganeia #folk sorcery #witchcraft #masterpost #answered

[getinthefuckingcarkitten]

It's short wait for her at Harper's office, as always. The doctor is surprisingly accomodating whenever she stops by, and Avery isn't sure if it's the money talking or something else that makes her so cooperative. This makes all interactions with the good doctor so very uncomfortable.

"How have you been?" Harper asks, smiling pleasantly. She has one of those unsettlingly calm faces. It might be comforting for something else, but to Avery it's like a still lake. Probably swarming with bacteria and parasites, that is.

"Fine." Avery is always curt to her, albeit polite. "I just want my prescription. I have work today until later, and i'm all out of my medicine."

"On a sunday?" Harper's eyebrows shoot up. "My, that must be stressful."

"You're also working on a sunday." Avery points out, with a hint of a frown on her face.

"Yes, but i like my job." Harper gives her another one of those unnerving, placid smiles.

Avery doesn't like the implication of her words, but she keeps quiet. She needs to stay on the doctor's good side, at least until she gets another supplier.

"And you're in luck." Harper says, getting up to grab something in a cabinet behind her desk. "I've just gotten samples of your prescription, so you don't even need to go to the pharmacy."

She holds out two little bottles of pills, unlabeled, unlicensed opiates. Likely stronger than the stuff she could buy anywhere else. Avery can't help but get a bit excited to feel that high again, as her tolarance built up over the years.

"That's nice." Avery smiles carefully. "How much?"

"Because it's you... I guess £20000 will do." Harper decides. "A discount for a regular. So?"

"Hey, that's steep." Avery frowns, but Harper seems completely unfazed, as always.

"You can always just grab the usual." Harper shrugs, setting the bottles down on her desk, then getting in front of them as she leans back on her desk. "Ah, i hate to see you looking so sad. I can give you a prescription for the pharmacy for the same price as always, or..."

"Or?" Avery raises an eyebrow at the doctor. She doesn't like her tone, but if it's a good offer...

"You can help me with research, and i'll dock the price." Harper's smile widens a bit as she says it. "Answer some questions for me, and i can do it for around... £15000. What do you say?"

Avery has blinks a little. That big of a discount, just for answering some questions? It had to have a catch, but... The temptation of something that could give her a decent high was too strong.

"Okay, fine, but make it quick. I have work." Avery hurriedly replies, and Harper's claps once like a little kid.

"Okay, great! Let me just..." The doctor turns and grabs a clipboard and pen from her desk, scribbling something on the paper. "Whenever you're ready."

"Let's get this over with already." Impatient, Avery has to hold back from rolling her eyes at the pretense of profissionalism.

"Right, first question. What drugs do you usually take?" Harper asks, and as Avery shoots her a glare, she explains. "Drug is an umbrella term that describes medicines, too, as i'm sure you know. I'm not implying anything here, miss Avery, please don't be offended."

"You know that already, then." Avery huffs, but Harper just chuckles a little.

"For the purposes of research, i can't assume anything about the subjects. Now, if you'd be kind to tell me..." She insists.

"God, fine." Avery reluctantly lists them, by brand rather than name, to emphasize their legal status just in case that file falls in the wrong hands. Harper seems a bit amused by this, but doesn't comment on it.

"You smoke, correct?" Harper asks, and Avery takes a moment before nodding.

"Just occasionally." She adds, making Harper shoot her a look. Whatever, she didn't need to prove anything.

"What about alcohol?" Harper continues.

"...Socially." Avery replies, and Harper sets down the clipboard.

"Miss Avery, i know i said i shouldn't assume anything about the subjects, but i'd like it if you were truthful." Harper almost sounds like she's begging, and Avery hates that it could work if she didn't know better. "Don't worry, nobody else is going to see this, and your name won't be on it. It's... Personal research."

Avery lets out a loud sigh as she looks away from Harper's pleading eyes.

"Fine, yes, i do drink more than socially, but i'm not an alcoholic or something! Put that down exactly like that!" Avery half-growls, her impatience getting the best of her, and she hates even more that Harper seems pleased by that.

As Harper takes her time writing, Avery looks at the watch on her wrist. She'll run late if the good doctor doesn't pick up her pace.

"Are we done?" Avery asks, not bothering to hide her irritation anymore.

"Two more questions." Harper grins at her. "Do you often mix alcohol and your usual drugs?"

"...Sometimes, so what? You said it'd be fine if the dosing was on the low side." Avery grumbles.

"It's usually fine, don't worry." Harper shakes her head. "Last question, how do you usually feel when you do that?"

She stares at Avery intensely, making her feel even more reluctant to answer.

"I feel fine." Avery replies, but Harper doesn't even bother writing it down. She wants details, clearly. "I don't know, i feel relaxed, my head feels lighter for a moment. Is that what you want to know?"

"A little more, if you will." There's a glint of something in Harper's eyes that Avery can't quite discern, maybe just a sick curiosity, or maybe something more dangerous.

"I... I get drunk easier. I guess. I suppose it makes me more willing to get drunk." Avery says, hoping that will satisfy the doctor, but she keeps staring behind her pink-tinted glasses, expecting even more. "Sometimes when i fall sleep like that and wake up i don't remember much, but it feels like a really good night's sleep."

Harper nods and quickly scribbles something, as Avery starts to tap her foot on the floor unconsciously, wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. When Harper looks at her again, there's an intensity in her gaze that wasn't there before.

"I have another offer to make." Harper says, her grin widening as she reached for the bottle behind her. "If you take one of those right now, i'll give you another £5000 discount."

Avery feels a chill run down her spine, something telling her that this would be a bad idea. The alarm on her phone goes off and warns her that lunch break is over, and she can't thank herself enough for setting it up earlier.

"No, i'm already late." She gets up, and Harper's smile fades a little. "I'll just pay for the samples, thank you."

Before she even finishes speaking, the money is already out of her wallet and being shoved in Harper's direction, but the doctor takes an awfully long time before reaching for the bank notes. There's an almost forlorn look on her face as she hands Avery the bottles.

"Next time i might make some ajustments." Harper says, sounding a bit defeated, though Avery knows it means it might get more expensive. Her smile is back shortly after, though. "Please tell me if it's any good."

"Yeah, yeah, i'll be in touch, thank you." Avery can't hide her relief to have ended that crazy negotiation.

The doctor's eyes fixate on her back as she leaves the office and closes the door maybe a bit too forcefully. It occurred to her, maybe a bit too late, that this might entice Harper's curiosity even more. With a shiver, she hoped that those little pills were enough to stop her from having nightmares about prodding, curious little needles and scalpels reaching for her forehead, trying to pick her head open like Harper always tried to do.

#dol avery #dol harper #dolgl #idk why i did this honestly i just like putting avery in situations. i also think she gets her downers from harper for legal purposes #also yay to harper for managing to be a creep to a woman 20 years her senior who is also a known creep. true STEM girlboss #will she ever manage to lure avery into a false sense of security she can use to her advantage? who knows! #maybe she just needs to lower some Awareness first :) #anyway i wrote this too quickly and didnt really review if theres any mistakes i'll fix it later soz

[mars101]

Act 5: -> Scene 3: Kim Younghoon

WRITTEN PART -> (1.2k) -> no ss after text

june 1st, 2002

hi travel diary i have one word to say as i start this..

wow.

STARTING THIS TRIP OFF WITH A BANG!!!

not literally sadly but idk maybe we'll get there.. :)

anyways so, there was this guy i saw at the airport and… how can someone look this good?? i swear, it was like i was looking at a statue. i think that i literally did stare at him like he was one..

he did look back at me and i winked at him, i wish i had a picture of his cute blush that he got after i winked. he sent me back a small wave and didnt look at me after it though :((

we are going on the same flight so hopefully i’ll bump into him eventually..

July 16th, One day before Yin's Wedding.

After sailing the boat for a while, Juyeon told Yin to stop by the shore near the back of the island. He told her that the four of them were going to have a small picnic.

Juyeon was releasing the anchor, Hyunjae was gathering what they brought, and.. Younghoon was still napping… Yin was lucky enough to lose rock paper scissors and be the one to wake him up.

“younghoon..? we're going to leave the boat now”

“Huh? Oh this wasn't a dream..” Younghoon sighs as he sits up and rubs his eyes slightly. With a tired smile he stands up and looks around, “Oh Yin, where's Juyeon and Hyunjae?”

“already off the boat, come on let's go! you also have to tell me how you met my mom”

“Oh do I?” Younghoon raises an eyebrow as the two of them walk over to get off the boat. “i've already asked hyunjae and juyeon, now i need to hear your story”

As the two meet up with Juyeon and Hyunjae on the beach, they find a spot on a hill with a flat area. Younghoon immediately going to lean on the tree that shades the area.

“Did Yin really ask you guys on how you met Y/n too?”

The other two men looked at each other before nodding, “I mean yeah, it's been years since I talked about y/n so why not” Hyunjae leans forward torwards Younghoon as he talks, “Are we going to get a live retelling on how you met Y/n??”

“Uhm…”

july 15th, 2002

no way…..

TRAVEL DIARY! DO YOU REMEMBER THAT EXTRA HANDSOME BOY AT THE AIRPORT???

WELL HES HERE!!!! i did not know that my luck would be this good during this trip. three men. call me what you want but i am living the dream right now

also.. you know what they say, the third time's the charm ;) ok but in terms of when i saw them would that mean juyeon’s the third man or if i actually talk to them. and i will talk to the cutie by the way, just want to make it clear that this time i will make a move on him.

i am actually a bit nervous this time it is so weird, ew usually im not so hesitant like this i should just do what y/n does and be y/n

(oh god he has me talking in third person)

good luck y/n you got this!!

July 16th, One day before Yin's Wedding.

“Fine. But I'm not telling details-”

“what?!? but they're the best part. at least leave some details in. like what my mom was wearing, how pretty you thought she was, when did you two-”

Younghoon waves his hand around at Yin. Juyeon and Hyunjae are already starting to eat while waiting for the story.

“Alright alright, I'll leave some details in, I guess.. and don't expect much. I'm not a storyteller”

“You will be” Juyeon said before shoving a spoonful of food in his mouth.

“okayyy come on, come on, let's hear it!” yin exclaimed as she got ready to listen intently to younghoon.

“Calm down, Yin. I'll get to it. I think I'll need to give some background first. It was around twenty years ago, and I was on vacation with my parents and their best friends, plus their kids too. I first saw Y/n at the airport, I think?”

“wait does that mean you were the first one?”

“First one to talk to her.. no. but yes first one to see her”

Hyunjae gulps down his food loudly, “I think I was the first one to talk to your mom. Early June was when I met her”

“July 6th for me.”

“Uhm yesterday day, July 15th..”

“happy anniversary!!” the three men all looked at yin with different emotions on their face. “okay sorry wrong joke my bad. you can continue with your story now” yin takes a sip of her water to ignore the stares.

“Alright uh, so yeah, I didn't notice Y/n at first because I was making sure I had everything. But when I did look up and made eye contact with her, I had gotten so shy. I think I had a small blush on my face” Younghoon covers his face in slight embarrassment at the way the three others are listening to him.

“Now, it's a month later, and my parents just told me I'm going to marry a childhood friend and so-”

“Woah woah woah, you're going to just skip over that?? What do you- How did- WHAT”

Juyeon's jaw dropped as he put down his plate for dramatics and put his hands out, reaching for the air.

“Oh right uh, at a dinner with my family and her's, our parents said that.. we were going to get married in a month…”

“What.”

“The.”

“flip.”

“Yeah… my exact reaction, well almost. I was the only one who didn't know, so I ran away. Sneaked on a boat and ended up here on this island. Met Y/n at the hotel from earlier, and she clinged onto me, and we went out danced on the beach, kissed on the beach, and… dot dot dot.”

yin tilted her head in confusion and looked at the other two men who were nodding their heads with a slight smile, “dot dot dot? what does that mean?”

Hyunjae and Juyeon put their hands out for a high five to Younghoon while he replied to Yin, “It's something from our time, I'm not sure if you know about it.”

“but you're saying dot dot dot, how can i not know when it's just dots?”

The three of them start to stand up and stretch as they jokingly ignore Yin, “Alright let's pack up” Juyeon looks at a nonexistent watch on his wrist, “Oh yeah look at the time Yin, your wedding is tomorrow remember!”

“wait but-”

july 17th, 2002

what a night.

younghoon is such a dream. literally. men like him are only seen in my dreams, big sighs ahhhh.

with him, i feel like nothing can go wrong.

like first of all, he's so respectful, offered to pay when yin could literally give it to us for free, always asked me first, and has a fiance.

he's getting married.

younghoon is getting married and not to me.

y/n.. you are so stupid. there always has to be something going wrong in the end, right? just why..?

synopsis = a day before her wedding day, Yin decides to find her father so he can walk her down the isle, the problem? There's three candidates: Lee Juyeon, Kim Younghoon, and Lee Hyunjae.

last/next

masterlist

taglist:

@boomhoon , @sanasour , @loonaluvz , @jaerisdiction , @cowsmicwu , @jundundun , @piripurora

#deoboyznet #tbz imagines #tbz smau #tbz x reader #the boyz drabbles #the boyz imagines #the boyz smau #the boyz x reader #the boyz scenarios #hyunjae x reader #juyeon x reader #younghoon x reader #hyunjae smau #juyeon smau #younghoon smau

[hadit93]

Hey, I hope you're doing well.

Do you think birthdays can be a good time for rituals of self improvement or career? Especially if the bday is after one's Saturn return (you can guess how tumultuous life is at this point).

If yes, can you suggest any spell or ritual to do on someone's bday to manifest the life they want for the coming year? Or maybe let go of everything that doesn't serve one's higher purpose on the day before the birthday?

Thanks in advance, and happy September 💙

I would say so, yes. I tend to work long term magic on or around my birthday. I always take stock of my life also- I tend to do a tarot reading every six months that details the next six months- but my birthday is in June and so these roughly line up to my birthday and new years automatically!

You could do many things. You could write a list of all the things you want to let go of or move away from and anoint the paper with a banishing oil. Burn the paper and bury the ashes in a graveyard or throw in a river. Then on your birthday you could write what you want to do in this next 12 months, what you want to manifest. Be realistic of course, but also, don't be too conservative! Anoint the paper and a candle (White maybe, or a colour that corresponds to your main goal) with an appropriate oil- this could be an attraction oil, an oil of the deity you work with, or a condition oil that is associated with a particular goal. Make a petition to whatever concept of Spirit(s) you work with. Wrap the petition up, seal it with thread, and place it in a jar. Regularly add things to it that line up with your goal. These could be sigils you activate and place in the jar, items of power you find and want to bring into your life, business cards of a business you want to work with etc.

Repeat the next year.

I have never done this, it is just a thought that popped in my head, although, I may do this myself! Perhaps I will wait for new years eve and perform on new years day.

Another thing you may be interested in is creating a black book in the sense of Aidan Wachter's 'Weaving Fate'. This acts as a hypersigil you utilise to influence your entire life. A birthday after a Saturn return would be a great time to consecrate the items and work with such magic.

I wish you luck, and have a happy birthday!

#ask me #magick #birthday magic #new years magick #letting go #manifesting

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || AO3 || My Website There's a soundtrack to this one if you're interested

Chapter 105: March 2001

Gerry gets back into town with exactly two hours to spare. It isn’t exactly optimal, but at least he’s able to grab a shower before rushing off. He has to double back when he almost forgets something important, and his mother tries to waylay him, but he manages to get away from her and catch the train just before it closes its doors.

Still, he’s a bit later than he’d like, and he just hopes Melanie is being optimistic.

The auditorium is crowded with families, from babes in arms to elderly folks, and it takes Gerry a good bit of scanning before he spots who he’s looking for. He distractedly thanks the student usher who hands him the folded bits of paper that constitutes a program and makes his way down the aisle to some seats on the left side of the theater, about three rows back. He’s in luck—there’s a seat next to Melanie that’s empty except for a bouquet of roses. From the fact that they’re mixed red and yellow, he guesses she’s the one that brought them.

“Does this mean you’re saving a seat for me?” he asks.

“Gerry!” Melanie’s face lights up, and she leaps to her feet and hugs him tightly. “Jesus, I thought you were still in Switzerland!”

“Luxembourg. Got back a couple hours ago.” Gerry leans over to shake Uncle Roger’s hand, then picks up the bouquet. “So, can I sit with you?”

“Duh.” Melanie plops back down into her seat and bends over to retrieve her program. Gerry notices she’s wearing the stole Alastair gave her for her ninth birthday, thrown over her jumper and jeans, but doesn’t say anything about it.

Instead, he opens his own program and skims it. There are two choirs that are more or less open—the Junior Choir and the Senior Choir—plus a Young Men’s Chorus and Women’s Ensemble, both by audition only, made up of students eligible for the Senior Choir but with a better grasp of things like pitch, musicality, and not bobbing your head violently along with the beat. This is Martin’s last year in the Junior Choir, and Gerry knows he’s planning to try out for the Young Men’s Chorus when they open up again…or has he already?

“Did Martin ever do that audition?” he asks Melanie, who would be the first to know.

“It’s not until next term, I don’t think,” Melanie answers. “It starts in the fall, after all. Anyway, he hasn’t said anything to me about it.”

Gerry hums as he skims the list of songs the Junior Choir will be singing. Unsurprisingly for the Easter term, there are a couple of songs that look to be religious, or at least trending in that direction—he knows “Because He Lives” is definitely an Easter song, and “One Song (A Song of Peace)” is probably similar—plus a couple generic spring songs, some songs that seem to just be for fun, and a single song in a foreign language, French this term. Gerry mentally braces himself for the typical childish hacking through the language.

“I haven’t heard Martin practicing any of these,” Melanie murmurs, also looking over the list.

“Well, you know, your mother isn’t well,” Uncle Roger says absently. “Martin doesn’t practice in the house so much, so he doesn’t disturb her.”

“There is that,” Melanie admits. She glances at the opposite page. “Ooh, the Young Men’s Chorus is doing ‘Diu Diu Deng’!”

Gerry is about to ask her what that means when the lights in the auditorium dim and everybody—for the most part—quiets down. It’s not like a professional performance where people understand what they’re supposed to do; it’s an amateur production, quality notwithstanding, and some people don’t seem to care how loud the crowd noise is as long as it’s not their child on the stage.

The Junior Choir, all neatly dressed in black slacks or skirts and white tops, file onto the stage in ordered rows, filling the risers as they do so, to enthusiastic applause and a few good-natured cheers. Gerry scans the group coming in; Martin, as both one of the older and one of the taller boys in the choir, is usually one of the first ones out so he can climb up and get to his spot, and he wants to get a good look at him before all he can see is eyes and hair over the row of faces going from plump to angular as they begin to change from child to teen.

But there’s no sign of him.

Gerry blinks, and looks harder—like Martin would be difficult to miss. But no, it’s only girls filing out now and climbing the risers. Martin is nowhere to be found. As the last child takes her position, the director, a man Gerry knows well by now, comes out and bows to the audience, then turns to the choir, waiting for the applause to    die down so they can begin.

For his part, Gerry is having something akin to a mental breakdown. Could Martin have dropped out of chorus without telling them…or worse, been removed against his will? It’s likely he wouldn’t say anything; he wouldn’t want them to worry. But would he let it get this far—let them think he was going to be in the concert, knowing he’ll be found out? That’s not Martin’s style at all. He’s not the kind of person to put people out, and for them to show up expecting to cheer him on would be (at least in Martin’s mind) a huge inconvenience. He surely knows by now that they will come to all his concerts; Gerry might go out of town more often than he likes, but Melanie and Uncle Roger never miss.

So it must be something else. Something must have happened to him…but what? Surely he rode in with Uncle Roger and Melanie rather than walking himself, so something must have happened to him since they arrived, but—

Melanie slaps his arm urgently, not hard, just a frantic patting to silently get his attention. Gerry turns to face her as the choir begins a slightly clumsy but overall decent (to his ear at least, not that he’s paying a whole lot of attention) rendition of their first spring song. The question dies on his lips as she stabs her finger repeatedly at the back of the program. With the lights down, Gerry can’t read it from there, so he picks up his own program and turns it to the back, then holds it closer to his face. The back of the program is where all the members of the various choruses are listed, and his first reaction is to breathe a silent sigh of relief when he sees MARTIN BLACKWOOD right there on the page, immediately above ANDREW CARTWRIGHT.

It’s awfully low down on the page, though. The Junior Choir is usually right at the top…

Gerry’s eyes flick up, just a little, and he sees the word TENOR, which is also unusual, since the Junior Choir is only two parts as far as he knows—he remembers Martin saying once they don’t start really breaking them up until Senior Choir. Then his eyes widen as he realizes that Martin’s name is on the far right of the page…and the column is actually headed TENOR 1.

He looks again, and there it is—Martin’s name listed under the Young Men’s Chorus.

Gerry—there’s no other word for it—goggles. He knows you’re supposed to be thirteen to get into that group; Martin won’t be thirteen until August. Then there’s the fact that, according to Melanie, he’s not supposed to start in it until the fall. But yet…here he is.

During the applause for the latest song, Gerry leans over and whispers to Melanie, “He wasn’t in the Young Men’s Chorus at Christmas, was he?”

“No!” Melanie hisses back. “The most complicated piece they did was ‘Dona Nobis Pacem’, remember?”

Gerry does, but he’s been wondering if he misremembered. Still, Melanie wouldn’t have said Martin was still planning to audition if he had already been in.

He can hardly concentrate through the first half of the concert, barely manages to applaud at the appropriate times, but when the Senior Choir sits down and the director announces the Young Men’s Chorus, he leans forward, anxious and eager.

Bit odd to call them ‘men’ when they’re thirteen to sixteen, isn’t it? whispers a voice in the back of his mind, sounding amused, and Gerry has to admit that it is a bit odd even if they did append young to the front, but he supposes that if they’re referring to the Women’s Ensemble they can’t very well call it a Boys’ Chorus. His eyes flick back and forth along the line of boys, young men, whatever, as they file in. There are only about a dozen of them all together, and—ah, there he is. Third from the end, he’s the taller of the two Tenor Ones on the front row. Even from where he sits, Gerry can see that he’s visibly pale and nervous, only not fidgeting in his tuxedo jacket and bow tie because he’s too much the professional to do so. But as soon as Martin’s eyes lock on the director, a whole new demeanor takes its place. He’s still pale, but he’s calm and focused. Nothing will exist for him from here on out but the music.

And what music it is! Even Gerry, who really knows very little about music overall, is impressed. For such a small group—now that they’re all out, he can count sixteen, four to each part—they fill the space, and they sound wonderful. Maybe he’s a little biased because Martin is part of it, but he never felt this way about the Junior Choir, only that Martin was one of the few good parts of it, so they must actually be good.

They sing a classic song with a lot of “hallelujahs” in it, another song that invokes the stars, and a song that has Melanie sitting bolt upright and smiling from the very beginning. Gerry surmises this is the one she mentioned before the concert. It’s obviously a Chinese song, and just as obviously about a train—Gerry doesn’t speak it, but he gets that much—and from the bright look on all the boys’ faces, not just Martin’s, they’re obviously enjoying it. It gets the loudest round of applause of the evening so far.

Once the auditorium is quiet again, there’s a single note on the piano that dies away quickly. The director waves a few beats, and then the boys begin singing a slow, sonorous song that thrums in Gerry’s chest. “Brightly beams our Father’s mercy…from His lighthouse evermore…”

Gerry lets his eyes drift shut as he listens. The song is poignant and solemn, but somehow feels…important. It’s almost as though the song itself is a beacon calling to them; in fact, it gives him almost the same sensation as that song Melanie sang a couple years back to find Martin in the park, an incident he still shies away from thinking about too hard or often. It’s a song of hope, of steadfast faith, of assuring someone that you’ll be there for them, no matter what.

And then a single clear, pure voice rings out over the room. “Throw out the lifeline, throw out the lifeline, someone is drifting away…”

At that, Gerry’s eyes pop open wide, because he knows that voice. His lips part in shock as he stares at the stage. Martin, his eyes shining green all the way from out here as they fix on the director’s baton, sings the verses to the second half of what’s obviously a medley, alone and unaccompanied and unafraid. Martin, who is always nervous and afraid of putting himself out there, who stammers any time he’s put on the spot, sings with a confidence that’s no different than when it’s just the three of them in a park or on the river bank or on top of a hill, with the unfettered pleasure of someone doing what he’s always meant to do.

And Gerry, who has heard Martin sing a thousand times, who knows his voice is like this, is utterly entranced.

There’s a beat of silence when the whole choir finishes a reprise of the chorus of the first song, and then the audience nearly takes the roof off the auditorium with their applause. Martin’s cheeks turn faintly pink as the director gestures to him, but he doesn’t duck his head or back away, which is…honestly progress.

The boys do a fast, peppy song about putting bones together and taking them apart again, and then they end with an absolutely gorgeous song Gerry’s never heard before, but he recognizes the lyrics as being one of Martin’s favorite Byron poems, “She Walks In Beauty”. Gerry’s pretty sure he’s not the only one that tears up a little.

The Women’s Ensemble goes next, and in Gerry’s totally unbiased opinion, they should have gone before the Young Men’s Chorus, because they can’t hold up. The director calls everyone out for the final song, which they do at virtually every single concert, and then it’s over.

Melanie is beaming ear to ear as she turns to Gerry. “That’s the best one ever.”

Gerry can’t help but laugh at her. “You’re just saying that because Martin got a solo.”

“No, I’m saying it because it was amazing.” Melanie shifts the bouquet to one hand and punches Gerry with the other. “Come on. Let’s go find him so we can yell at him for not telling us.”

The lobby and halls are crowded with people finding and congratulating their respective students. Melanie greets and congratulates a couple of girls she evidently knows at least in passing—as usual, they act polite but not particularly enthusiastic—but it takes Gerry a bit before he spots Martin trying to edge his way around the crowd. He nudges Melanie and points. “Look, there he is!”

Melanie shoves the bouquet at Uncle Roger and immediately starts threading her way through the crowd. She’s always had a talent for this sort of thing, and she slides through the gaps like water sliding through cupped hands. Gerry glances over his shoulder at Uncle Roger, unable to hide his amusement. “Well, she’s going to get there first. Shall we?”

Uncle Roger gestures. “Lead the way.”

Gerry is not particularly large or intimidating, so he can’t exactly shove people out of his way, and he’s not as agile as Melanie. He squeezes through whatever gaps he can, Uncle Roger’s polite “excuse me”s following him, and makes it to Martin’s side well after Melanie has attacked him in a tight hug.

“You’re an absolute ass,” she says, the delight in her voice belying her words. “Why didn’t you tell us you’d got into the Young Men’s Chorus already?”

“It—it was a last-minute thing,” Martin says, his cheeks turning bright pink. The blush gets even deeper when he notices Gerry. “When—wh-when did you get back?”

“Just in time.” Gerry comes over and hugs Martin, too. “What do you mean, last-minute thing? That’s not something you can just learn at the last minute.”

“No, I—I mean, not—” Martin swallows nervously. “It, um, over the break at half-term, Joseph White had to have his tonsils taken out, and something went wrong, so he couldn’t sing anymore. He told Dr. Clayton to run the auditions early and pick someone to replace him, and…well, I-I guess I was the only person to audition who could hit Tenor One parts who did well enough to start now?”

Gerry doubts that, actually, but he’s not going to say as much. Instead, he says, “But then you got the solo?”

“Not originally. It was supposed to be Kent Phillips, but he missed his cue one day and I just, I kind of jumped in out of habit, and Dr. Clayton asked me to take over.” Martin ducks his head, obviously embarrassed. “I know I shouldn’t have, but…”

“Yeah, well, obviously Dr. Clayton doesn’t think so,” Melanie points out.

Uncle Roger finally makes it over to them, smiling broadly. He presents Martin with the bouquet. “Well done, son. It’s a shame your mother couldn’t make it, but if you’d told us you had a solo, I know she would have been here.”

Yeah, right, whispers that voice in Gerry’s head. Gerry grunts his agreement without thinking. Melanie scowls momentarily, but says nothing. Martin, for his part, manages a tentative smile that at least looks convincing as he accepts the bouquet, even though he doesn’t actually agree with his stepfather’s assessment. “Thanks, Dad. I’m glad you could make it, anyway.”

“Wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” Uncle Roger rumples Martin’s hair affectionately. “Come on. After that, I think you deserve ice cream. Gerard, care to join us?”

“I’d love to. Thanks, Uncle Roger.” Gerry smiles up at the man and throws an arm around Martin’s shoulders. “He’s right. Let���s go celebrate, yeah? Even if you think it was an accident, that was a damned good performance and you deserve to celebrate.”

Melanie slides her arm around Martin’s waist from the other side. Obviously unable to protest, he lets them drag him outside, Uncle Roger leading the way.

Okay, the voice in the back of Gerry’s head whispers. Why this? Why tonight?

Why not? Gerry asks the voice.

Sorry, Ger. Not talking to you right now, just trying to work some stuff out. We’ll talk later.

Gerry feels something inside him warm, for reasons he can’t explain. But since his brain has just informed him they’re not going to be on speaking terms for the rest of the night, apparently—he swears he can hear someone laughing at him all of a sudden—he decides that’s a problem for later. For now, he’s going to concentrate on his siblings, and on his Uncle Roger, and on ice cream.

He can worry later.

#ollie writes fanfic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest) #gerard keay #melanie king #martin blackwood #the implication of timothy stoker

[stayathome-ts]

Man I love being really fucking angry and not being able to do much about it. (everything else below the cut, copy-pasted because there's no way in hell I'm rewriting this. You're welcome for the wall of text)

I'm so goddamn angry, why do we have to be so goddamn angry lately? Oh I know, a month straight of being behind in work, all because we got sick or some bullshit, I don't even remember now! But no, now we've got an exam on Monday, and someone told us this morning that a pseudo-grandparent of ours who we haven't seen in years died last week. So that's great! Throw another thing on top of the pile, why don't you, yeah just see how much we can stand before we break knowing that it's only one more week til the term's over.

I can't even brute force my way through it, that's not how that works, I'm left fucking angry at our brain and our body for not being able to do what we need to do despite having all the will in the world to do it.

These last couple weeks have felt like a slice of eternity, it's just math math math, more math, math math, just two more assignments then you'll be caught up, oh hey look you have a biology lecture to go to at 8:30 in the morning and then pass out when you get home, now it's time to do math again except you can't, go to the tutoring center, get something worked out in five minutes that you'd been working on for five hours, go back home, math math math, nap, math math, have a fucking breakdown, turn in homework and see you only have two more assignments, do some math and more math, stare at the unfolded laundry that's been sitting there for weeks now, math math math, turn in homework, check your grades and see that you have two more assignments, remember to hydrate oh look you have hobbies remember those hobbies? Yeah I remember those hobbies, good fucking luck engaging with them though, because guess what, you have more math to do! Except no, now someone's overloaded in the system and you have to deal with that, have fun staring at your graph paper wondering how the hell to do any of this for the next hour, do more math now that you've realized you only have two more assignments, do more math, do you think you can go to the protest this weekend? No? Well either way you'll hear about horrible things every single day, often at times when you're just trying to do stuff like eat. Do more math though, only two more assignments. Have you noticed the days kind of bleed together lately? No you don't, or at least you won't for a while because you keep switching and dissociating from it so good luck trying to bring anything about this up in therapy. Remember to work on math and get that assignment done though. Math math math, shower, eat, more math, dream about having calculator issues, think about your best friend who you'll never see again and doesn't even exist here, switch out to someone who doesn't have that problem, do more math, get distracted by the fact that holy shit you're a husband now! Isn't that great! Gotta do more math first though because you only have a couple more to go. Kiss your spouse. Comfort the kid you take care of. Plan birthday presents for him and his brothers. Stare at the laundry. Contemplate folding the laundry but don't. Pack up your bag, unpack your bag, find the chargers, put away your cane, get out the calculator and the computer and the graph paper and the notebook and the math textbook and the pencil bag. Do this problem, check it, you got it wrong, go over it, triple check, you can't find a problem, do it again, do it again, check it, you got it wrong, go get a cup of coffee instead. Check it again and oh look there's the solution, that wasn't so hard was it. Only thirty more, and two more of that before you're caught up. Remember to stay caught up on how people were tortured today and you couldn't stop them. Hydrate. Stretch. Keep your body in okay condition. Do some more math, watch Columbo or X Files while you're at it, get some dopamine from that and almost feel normal again. Dance in the hallway while you're at it, dance like no one's watching because they aren't, have fun! Have you worked on math lately? Hey by the way this friend who relies on you in some ways is bpd splitting on you and you need to talk with her for a couple hours to make sure she doesn't drink too much and knows you love her, oh by the way did you hear that so-and-so died and you never got to see him again since the last time you went to that church in 2020? You can deal with that later though, you've got math to do and it's already 11 in the morning, you've really got to get a move on now, just get the calculator and the computer and the pencil bag and the headphones and the charger and the math textbook and the notebook out and get started, you're only two assignments behind and the end of the term is only a week away just like it has been for the last. four. weeks.

#This isn't even all of it but goddamn!! #I'm pretty sick and tired of vacillating between being perfectly fine and engaging with hobbies and friends and supporting them #and being held together by scotch tape and just... doing jack shit watching the clock tick as we're unable to do the work we need to #death tw #current events tw #torture mention #covid mention #religion mention #repetition tw

[quidfree]

YOU are why I am intimidated so much by writing Bakugou’s POV lol your writing of Bakugou and Todoroki’s inner dialogue is incredible. Makes me throw up my hands, ‘see? That’s exactly how I see it! It’s already been said! What could I possibly contribute in a story of my own, lol?’

I just feel like you understand them so well. Your TLAAO is so nuanced and…admittedly, one of the few T rated stories that kept me reading despite nothing explicit (your most recent work on AO3 with the Bakugou crossover thing chewed me up and spit me out lol 😂, the line especially about people losing interest or stopping reading after the first kiss or hookup lol… I was embarrassed to say the least! But laughing all the while). Their chemistry though lol gracious, it’s intelligently spicy!

I guess what I’m saying is: I am supremely jealous of how you write them with such wit and crackling undercurrents of …idk, awesomeness. See? I can’t even adequately describe what your delicious dialogue does to me. Ooo, good word: scintillation.

Wait, I’m supposed to be asking a question. Okay, um, I talked myself out of my initial question because to ask how you get into the mind of these characters may be outside my ability right now lol hmm… maybe?…. In your opinion what do they, Todoroki and Bakugou, want and need?

Gonna go fuck off now and reread TLAAO because the story got me addicted to escaping into the agonizing slow burn 🔥 thank you so much for sharing your amazing stories and your unique POV with the world. I’m really grateful.

anon this is so flattering haha thank you. sorry for dragging you in the BL nightmare fic. and yeah, scintillation is a good word. definitely do not be put off from writing yourself because of my fic!

regarding your scrapped question about the minds of the characters, you're in luck, because i did answer a similar question like 2 years ago which i managed to dig up the answer to here

beyond that, regarding what both characters want/need... hm

bakugou wants, foremost, to Win. that's his whole fun dynamic with midoriya, right? midoriya wants to Save like all might, and bakugou wants to Win like him. now, with character dvp/trauma, he gains a more nuanced understanding of what Winning means to him- no longer just beating every opponent into the dust and laughing at them, but winning also by virtue of being a winner For Good- planting himself in opposition to the forces of evil by taking definite action for good, whether this be in kicking ass or ensuring those around him are also at their personal best to do the same, etc. still i'd argue even proto-bakugou does have more than just winning on paper as his Want- that's why he gets SO mad when todoroki doesn't fight him properly in sports fest, and why he spits on the league's offer to switch sides. he wants to be the best amongst the best, not just have the title.

what bakugou needs is more complicated. pragmatically he needs very little! and in canon he’s already had/is still displaying the kind of growth i would have said he needed early on- to become a hero ™ not just in name but in practice. when he’s at that point, what does bakugou need? maybe to continue to look beyond himself- in terms of being a hero for the people, but also in recognizing that having a community he can rely upon and bond with and open up to is in fact good for him. it’s not that he needs taking care of, even though TLC does everyone good, but i think some level of real recognition does both his ego and his fragile feelings some good- kirishima’s been such a positive influence on him bc of it. even my earliest fairly OOC tdbk works had that whole bit where todoroki gets on his ass about the fact that having people you care about makes you stronger not weaker. so i guess those two things are his needs.

todoroki, i think, is a little harder to pin down than bakudeku, since they’re helpfully explained to the audience by numerous other characters and by subtextual opposition. what he wants most consistently is probably to Do Good. originally this idea is very much just a kind of hollow motivation that exists purely in opposition to his father- enji is the Bad todoroki will be Good against- but it’s still somewhat distinct from bakugou’s winning thing, since he doesn’t care about the game in itself, just ousting his father from it. as the story progresses he very rapidly starts to take notice of the difference between him and eg midoriya iida or bakugou, who all have a lot more clear ideas of what their wants mean to them, and once he manages to unrepress a little he rapidly starts to flesh out what Doing Good actually means to him- protecting an ideal, standing for something real and alongside others, extending kindness to those who need it. 

what todoroki needs... he and bakugou are both very independent and start off very individualistic, so no surprise that i think that whole ‘people around you’ thing is a need for both of them. with todoroki, though, i think he’s less resistant to the idea of forming bonds; what he needs considering his fucked up childhood is probably more simple, like just having friends who consistently and enthusiastically care about him. that tethers him to the world, but it also heals some of the really dark things inside him that todoroki does a really good job of pushing past but deserves to actually address at some point.

#qui parle #qui repond #writing #tdbk #bnha #anon #characterisation #character study #shouto todoroki #katsuki bakugou #izuku midoriya

[subarusumeragi]

xxxholic live action movie “review”

so it was just scenes to me.

ok but actually it felt less like a movie and more like a bunch of scenes. they obviously put a lot of work in making those sets and they were very beautiful. it’s a good movie for making gifs.

it was... not like the manga at all! mostly because watanuki’s personality was so different. he was just a sad little guy. he didn’t want to get close to people. he didn’t have a crush on himawari and he didn’t hate doumeki. he didn’t scream and flail around and make funny faces. so basically he wasn’t like watanuki at all. but i will make an exception because he is very polite.

it was really funny though watanuki’s meeting with doumeki was them crashing into each other and watanuki spilling all his papers on the floor. and then watanuki was like im so sorry it was all my fault... :( which is so radically different from manga watanuki, who would’ve been screaming and shrieking in doumeki’s face. but this is a different guy.

in terms of the plot it was like... well it started off like the usual xxxholic stuff. the shop. yuuko saying a lot of cryptic bullshit. oh yeah they erased mokona from existence though so no mokona. yuuko was pretty serious throughout they didn’t have a lot of her being funny... rip.

so then the jorougumo was after watanuki’s eyes and she was creepy toward him and she had a little boytoy who was also creepy toward him (original character. do not steal) and then she put watanuki in a time loop bc she thought he Wished to have fun days with his friends and no problems forever and ever.

another funny part was how watanuki stayed in the timeloop for a while just hanging out with doumeki? like he realized he was in a timeloop then he was like oh.... but it’s kinda fun though :) and so he went to watch doumeki do archery with his tit out and then ate strawberries with doumeki for x days in a row. just for fun. that’s how he wanted to spend his time. again, not watanuki-like at all but i’m supporting him. go get your man etc etc. 

also they kept showing him purposefully ignoring himawari during this timeloop which was so funny. she was just standing there and watanuki was like ...... ok! anyway im gonna go hang out with doumeki.

the rest of the plot is.... whatever. himawari’s bad luck thing came out pretty early on bc the boytoy was screaming in her face to tell them so she did. watanuki did fall down the stairs bc of himawari later and then the jorougumo ate his eye. himawari did NOT get her little bird bc there were no Creatures in this movie. and doumeki gave watanuki half his eye... bc they had to put that in i guess.

himawari moved to the seaside. she was like i gotta leave. bye :) and watanuki was like noooo but he got over it i guess. in the end the jorougumo and her little boytoy died. and then yuuko died and watanuki became a slut, true to the xxxholic manga. i literally didn’t ask but okay.

so it was fun and i didn’t dislike it. it was nothing like the manga but it was very atmospheric and pretty to look at. it was a movie that’s for sure! ... kind of.

anyway that’s it. apparently the xxxholic manga is coming back in 2023. i can’t wait for it to go on for 4 years during which absolutely nothing happens <3

[delusion-of-negation]

personal, potentially triggering, post below the cut, needed to vent

you know how I bitch about how sections are like six months in my country? but idk if I've also mentioned that, because you have food and shelter, benefits will be cut or even ended. which at first might seem reasonable to you, until you remember what happens if you can't pay rent for six months. especially as you're physically locked somewhere and thus unable to work. like, I will note that they can't throw you onto the street afterwards, they'd have to help you get a place to live (which they could circumvent by putting you in a hotel iirc, so idek). last time I didn't have my own place, but I'd just been kicked out of my home, so I applied for benefits and couldn't claim full backpay to when I was kicked out because I was fed/sheltered (well, on paper anyway) during those months. I don't know exactly if, and if so how, they'd calculate stuff for a flat full of possessions that would be lost if I wasn't paid - not that it matters, my landlord would kick me out (they already schedule appointments when they know I'm on holiday or at the doctors or whatever, and threats if I miss them). and, if that happened to me, I'd lose everything, I have no family to take my belongings, and you're not allowed savings on benefits. when people say "we think you should go to a safe place until you feel better", or so forth, they don't understand that it isn't safe on any level - from rampant abuse/neglect, to derailing your entire fucking life. outpatient care and actual help here sucks, wait times, shit therapists, bigotry, etc. but then there's this fucked up saviour complex people have when they hear you're feeling... like, a certain way, where they call for "help" and treat you begging them not to as you just not wanting to help yourself - they do more harm than good in the process, but they feel good about themselves. so after this kind of thing happening to you, and/or after various other events that kill your trust in people, and if your situation is one of those where cliché lines like "it gets better" simply don't apply and you've started to get irritated by them, and when all of your friends are too wrapped up in their own lives and problems and prejudices and vulnerabilities to really be there for you... and so on, it becomes easier and safer to just keep everything locked up inside, y'know? and why does anybody think it'd help? in my experience, places will even fail to do the selling point (that's still up for debate, in terms of both ethics and efficacy) of keeping you away from things you can kermit unalive with - from smuggled in things, to surprisingly easy access to steal knives, scissors, the smoker lighter, shoelaces, etc, if you plan for ten seconds. do you remember how in school there was more chewing gum everywhere than basically anywhere else you've ever been since, all because chewing gum was banned? it's like that... but flavoured worse. I guess there's a lot of reasons that I can't and/or won't talk to people about feeling this certain way, and this post couldn't and doesn't bemoan even half of them. but this is notable because nobody wants to even admit that the saviour shit and the way the system is structured does more harm than good. I just want comfort, the old misery loves company, but without all of the risks and tiresome repeating of "it won't get better and- no, I'm not being a pessimist, I just know my situation more- stop getting offended that your hollow gesture wasn't appreciated" and so on. and I'm just tired of shouldering everyone else's troubles then they disappear or get angry or make things worse when I need anything more than a cup of tea and a catchphrase. sorry to yell at clouds, it just bewilders me you can be tortured for the first seven years of a shitty life, you can end up homeless multiple times and just falling to pieces, and the system still goes "well, good luck out there bro".

#anyway yeah sorry for venting and being barely coherent here lol

[unusualbill]

Nothing For Us - Chapter 3

Warnings: Blood, self harm, skin picking

Roman stretched out in the backseat absentmindedly picking at his cuticles, and praying his splitting headache would go away. Forcing himself to focus on the passing scenery, he hadn’t even noticed he was shredding his skin raw.

"I think there's crackers in the glovebox," Peter said, eyeing Roman from the rearview mirror and pretending he didn’t see him wipe blood on the velour seats.

"Huh?"

"If you're carsick, you should try to eat a little something, it'll help settle your stomach." Peter turned his attention back to the road, attempting to see past the fog that had settled in "God, I sound like my mom."

Roman turned on his side, propping his shoulder against the door and using his coat as a pillow. He let out a breath that could almost be interpreted as some sort of pitiful laugh. He was not in the mood to think about family, and certainly not in the mood to be reminded that some parents actually love their children.

Peter turned on the radio to fill the silence. The garbled sound of some generic pop song from years ago drifted from the speakers, occasionally punctuated by pure static. He fiddled with the knob, trying to find a station that came in clear. Having no such luck, he switched to the car’s cassette player.

Roman made a sour face as a cheesy love song from the 1980s began to play. He could practically smell the hairspray emanating from the band’s lead singer.

"What the fuck are we listening to?" He asked unsuccessfully attempting to ignore the song’s flagrant use of the word ‘lovers’.

"Some mixtape Lynda had once, it's been stuck in the player for as long as I can remember.”

"Are all the songs like this? All lovey-dovey and shit?" 

"Pretty much, it was from an ex-boyfriend of hers I think. Real corny shit."

"Gross."

Roman shifted positions, now laying on his back and resting his hands on his stomach. Though he had just fed, the gnawing pain in his gut has returned. The pain was dull for now, but he knew it wouldn’t last for long. The hunger was inevitable. He closed his eyes, listening as one song faded into another, trying his hardest not to think. The warm air from the heater and the feeling of cracked asphalt under the tires was almost enough to put him to sleep.

"What's our next stop?" He asked

Peter stayed silent, staring at the hills in the distance. He hadn’t planned much in terms of destination, he had barely planned on taking Roman with him. He left his fate up to the wind a long time ago.

"Whatever's at the end of this road, I guess. The destination doesn't matter." 

Roman opened his eyes only to roll them. "Yeah yeah yeah, it's about the journey and all that shit. When are we stopping the fucking car? I gotta piss."

"Oh," Peter said, ashamed about how profound he had gotten "There's a gas station in a couple of miles, the tank is getting low anyway."

Roman exited the small gas station restroom to find his companion standing in front of the drink display.

“Welcome back,” Peter said, eyeing a can of cheap beer. “Your fly is down.”

“Shit,” Roman glanced down, zipping his jeans “Why the hell were you looking anyway?”

Peter ignored him, shoving two cans of beer in his jacket.

"The fuck are you doing, man?"

Peter glared at him and nodded his head towards the cashier, who didn't seem to be paying much attention. “Keep your voice down.”

Roman rolled his eyes.

"Man, at least get the good shit." He reached past Peter, grabbing a full case of slightly more expensive beer.

"You have a good fake?" Peter asked, his tone hushed.

Roman smirked, looking at the old man behind the counter, who seemed much more interested in the crossword puzzle from last week's paper. In fact, Roman wasn't sure if he had noticed the boys come in at all. 

“Don’t need one.”

Roman sauntered up to the counter, setting the case of beer down along with a twenty-dollar bill. He gestured towards the cigarette display.

"And a pack of Marlboro Reds and some matches," He paused, chewing his lip "Lots of matches."

The cashier peered over his paper, looking the young Godfrey boy up and down.

"You got some ID for me, son?" he asked the obvious 17-year-old.

Roman glanced toward Peter a moment before going completely stone-faced.

"I don't need an ID, I look old enough."

The cashier furrowed his brow before lowering his paper and speaking slowly

"You don't need an ID, you look old enough." 

Peter turned his head away from the cashier, not wishing to be involved. Instead, he focused on the wall, reading the advertisements and trying not to make eye contact with the taxidermied bear head that marked where the restrooms were.

"You'd be happy to sell me the cigarettes."

The cashier nodded, his eyes completely vacant. He retrieved the pack of cigarettes and placed them on the counter, along with several boxes of matches. His movements were slow and stilted, like a human marionette.

"Your total is-"

Roman interrupted him, tapping the twenty on the counter.

"Twenty will be enough."

The cashier took it, placing it in the cash register.

"Twenty will be enough." He repeated.

Roman pocketed the matches and pack of cigarettes and gestured for Peter to grab the case of beer. Peter hesitantly complied, tucking the case under his arm and heading towards the door.

Roman made eye contact with the cashier once more.

"We were never here." 

Handing the case of beer to Roman to set on the floorboard, Peter climbed into the driver’s seat. "You have got to quit doing that."

"Doing what?" Roman wiped away his nosebleed as he got in the passenger’s seat. He stared at the blood smeared on the back of his hand, admiring the color. "We were never there, remember?"

Peter sighed, starting the car

"Fine, whatever. Just please stop doing the freaky roofie eyes shit. I swear your brain is gonna leak out of your fucking nose." 

Roman turned to look out at the window, his thumb brushing absentmindedly under his nose.

The feeling of loose gravel under the car's tires soothed Peter, it felt like home. The low hum of the heater reminded Peter of being a child and laying in the backseat, eyes closed as his grandfather drove over twisted dirt roads, cutting through thick forests. He could almost feel the warmth of the sun as it dappled through the trees.

Sitting at a stoplight, Peter viewed his surroundings. The sky was a muddled gray dashed with clouds that almost seemed fake. A light fog hung in the air like steam clinging to glass, it was unmistakably Autumn.

Peter thought about his answer to Roman's earlier question. He knew deep in his heart that any good road trip's destination was a feeling, a moment, not a physical place. But what moment was he hoping for? He daydreamed about coming clean and telling Roman the truth, but even in his own fantasy, he didn't know what that truth was. All he knew is that people's dreams aren't connected without good reason.

Roman broke the silence with a sudden yell and a fist to Peter's shoulder.

"Punch buggy green! No punch backs!"

Peter rubbed his shoulder, watching as a green Volkswagen beetle turned down the road beside them.

"Hey, no distracting the driver, car rules." 

Roman flashed his famous shit-eating Godfrey grin.

"You're just mad 'cause I said no punch backs."

Turning his attention back to the road, Peter paused a moment before he spoke.

"What the fuck did you call it just then?"

"Punch buggy?" Roman said, wondering if Peter was a little bit stupid "How the fuck have you been everywhere and not played punch buggy?" 

"Oh, I've played it," Peter rubbed his shoulder again, feeling a bruise starting to form "But it's called fucking slug bug, man."

"Whatever man, who cares?" Roman crossed his arms in the same manner as a pouting toddler. "Slug bug sounds stupid anyway, at least punch buggy makes sense. You see a buggy, you punch."

"Right." Peter shifted in his seat, pulling down the car's sun visor and reaching for the radio knob to fill the silence.

Roman wasn't sure what he had done to cause such a reaction, but Peter's silence made him uneasy. He looked down at his lap, picking at the blisters on his fingers. Between the dried blood on his cuticles and the fresh blood pooling on his fingertips, the smell was intoxicating. It made him feel lightheaded and nauseous and blissful all at once, it was almost arousing.

He let out a shaky breath before stopping himself from picking anymore. He stared at his bloody hands, unsure of what to do with them.

He searched the floorboard for a discarded napkin, wiping the blood away.

"Ah, shit!" His wounds burned as he looked down at the napkin, which had previously been used to wipe away french fry grease, and of course, salt.

Peter looked over at Roman, who was now attempting to shake the salt out of his wounds. “Are you okay? What did you do?”

"I, uh, fuck that burns." Roman nearly put his wounds to his mouth but stopped himself short.

Peter pulled off to the shoulder, getting out of the car. Something about stopping abruptly on the highway made Roman’s stomach flip.

Peter shook his head as he popped the trunk "There's a first aid kit in the back, just stay there and don't touch anything." 

Roman nodded, glancing back down at his hands in shame. He usually didn't let himself get that far. He watched as the blood ran down his hands and onto his wrists, paying close attention to every tear in his flesh and every drop of blood. He deserved it, didn’t he? He was a monster, a monster that fed on helplessness and innocence. He deserved to be in pain.

Roman’s thoughts were interrupted when Peter returned with a small metal box and a plastic water bottle. He opened the passenger's side door and instructed Roman to hold out his hands.

Roman complied, holding out bloody open palms. He avoided eye contact as Peter took them into his own, his touch calloused but gentle.

"I can't take you anywhere," He said, shaking his head "Is that salt?"

Roman winced as Peter poured water onto his wounds.

"Grabbed the wrong napkin, I guess."

Once the blood had been washed away, Peter took a closer look at Roman's hands. Once manicured nails now had shredded cuticles, and the damaged first layer of skin was peeling from Roman's fingertips.

Peter frowned, knowing the wounds were self-inflicted.

"Roman-" He started

Roman pulled his hands away, shaking them dry.

"Quit looking at me like that man, that's gay."

Peter elected to ignore that comment, instead reaching for the small box he had placed on the dashboard.

"Gimme your hands again."

"No," Roman said, holding his hands in his lap "Not if you're going to look at me like that." 

A voice in the back of his head told him that maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Peter raised an eyebrow.

"I just need to bandage them, I'll be quick."

Roman complied with a sigh, holding his hands limp in front of him.

Peter held a clean paper napkin to his companion's first two fingers, squeezing tight. He felt Roman's eyes staring him down as he avoided eye contact.

He raised his head to speak, accidentally meeting Roman's gaze. He couldn't help but notice the look in the upir's Godfrey green eyes. Behind the contempt and annoyance, there was a little softness, a look that could almost turn to a smile.

"You're doing it again."

Peter let go of Roman's hand, letting the bloody napkin drop to the ground below and clearing his throat.

"What bandaid do you want?" He asked, rifling through his makeshift first-aid kit. "Looks like we've got rocket ships or Sesame Street."

Roman cocked a brow

"You're joking, right?"

Peter held out the box so that Roman could view it for himself. Inside the box was a pile of loose bandaids, a handful of cotton balls, and single-use syringes tucked away next to vials of something Roman couldn’t quite make out. 

"Space, or whatever you said, just hurry up."

Once bandaged and back on the road, Roman sat with his arms crossed and his head against the window. The cool glass and bumpy roads soothed Roman as he tried to forget the events of that morning.

He could still see the look on that little girl's face, that smile with far too many teeth.

He could still taste her blood in the back of his throat.

Roman stole a glance at Peter, wondering how much his companion knew, whether or not he saw what a monster Roman truly was.

Peter brushed a lock of hair from his face, focused on the road.

Roman couldn't help but stare, his eyes tracing the silhouette of Peter's face. He brushed his thumb across the bandage on his finger, wondering why anyone would ever willingly care for him.

"Remind me to pick up a pack of hair dealies," Peter said, tucking an unruly lock of hair behind his ear. 

"Hair dealies?" Roman asked with a snort. "You're gonna call me out for saying punch buggy and then turn around and call them hair dealies?"

Peter huffed, searching for a rubber band in the center console, but finding nothing. He reached across Roman’s lap to open the glovebox, but was only met with a pile of napkins and a stack of maps.

Roman dug in his pocket, producing the hair tie he had found in the cafe bathroom.

"Here," He said, practically shoving it at Peter. "Hair tie."

Peter looked at it a moment before taking both hands off the wheel to tie up his hair. The car swerved for a moment, but Peter steadied the wheel with his knees.

"Better?" Roman asked, smiling at the sight of Peter in such a glittery accessory.

"It's a little tight, where did you say you got it again?"

"Don't worry about it."

#bri babbles #nothing for us #hemlock grove #hemlock grove fanfiction #romancek #roman godfrey #peter rumancek #I missed these boys so much

[fahrni]

Saturday Morning Coffee

Good morning!

I managed to sleep until 8AM! That’s pretty good and I needed it. Still groggy but the magic elixir should help. ☕️

New Republic

On Thursday, Tennessee Republicans had their first opportunity to show Democrats, Tennesseans, and the country their willingness to work together to enact baseline gun safety reform.

Not unexpected from the GOP in any state. They only care about children when they’re in the womb. After birth it’s game on, “good luck making it to adulthood kid.”

Techdirt

That became ridiculously clear on Thursday when Chris Best went on Nilay Patel’s Decoder podcast at the Verge to talk about Substack’s new Notes product, which everyone is (fairly or not) comparing to Twitter.

I listened to the entire podcast and I’d encourage you to do the same. Nilay is so good at asking those questions that make people squirm and he doesn’t let go. This was by no means a “gotcha” question. It’s very relevant to running a social network, which Substack Notes is.

Vox

Logan Roy is dead.

Man, that episode was amazing and uncomfortable. I love how we didn’t see him die, as it could be in real life. The kids just got that dreadful call many of us have received. We never really see an actual dead, or dying, Logan Roy. Just someone lying on the ground receiving CPR. I think it was brilliant and caught me off guard which was also perfect.

Now, what do the kids do? Do they find a way to bring Pops business into the 21st century, sell it as scraps, or run it in the ground?

We obviously don’t know how this ends but it’ll be a complete train wreck all the way to the end and I’m here for it. 🍿

Wired

Montana lawmakers voted 54-43 today to ban TikTok from operating in the state and forbid app stores from offering it for download.

I’ve been on the fence about TikTok for a few weeks now. At first I was in the die hard ban them group but I’ve been questioning that position for a while.

I wonder if their strategy to wall off content from China by keeping it here in the states could work?

Apple allows the Chinese government access to iCloud in China, why couldn’t the opposite work here?

I’d imagine the moderation team could be immense and I’d also imagine a substantially large team dedicated to tooling to make this work, but it might work, right? 🤷🏻‍♂️

The Nation

Two Sundays ago, I got a call from the Texas Tribune informing me that the board had voted to lay off the entire staff and shutter the publication.

The Texas Observer is a small progressive paper in, you guessed it, Texas. Yeah, the state that has drive-thru margarita stands that give free guns away with a purchase of $5US or more (yes, the gun part is full on sarcasm.)

Texas needs an independent progressive voice and I’m hopeful the Observer hangs around for a very long time. This is one of those times I wish I were very wealthy. I’d happily fund them for years just to make sure Texas progressives had a place to get their news.

Mozilla Blog

Total Cookie Protection is Firefox’s strongest privacy protection to date, confining cookies to the site where they were created, thus preventing tracking companies from using these cookies to track your browsing from site to site.

This is a very nice feature. Your turn Google and Microsoft.

Newsweek

President Donald Trump has such a fragile ego, his secret service agents are forced to act like “fluffers” and tell people to say nice things to him before he enters a room, Donny Deutsch has claimed.

I LOL’d when I read the term fluffer and I’m happy to know this man is super fragile. I also wonder if a few weeks in a prison cell would break him or make him and even more disgusting human. Somehow I fear the latter would occur.

Mission Local

Mission Local is informed that the San Francisco Police Department early this morning made an arrest in the April 4 killing of tech executive Bob Lee, following an operation undertaken outside the city’s borders. The alleged killer also works in tech and is a man Lee purportedly knew.

This is turning into a while story and crap like this happens every day.

Slash Film

True Detective: Night Country Trailer: Jodie Foster Headlines The Return Of The HBO Series

I loved the first season of True Detective. The second was good but not as gripping as the first. I think that’s part of why I’ve never watched the third season but I’ve heard it harkens back to the first season. I need to go play catch-up before we get this Jody Foster version. I’m really looking forward to it.

Reuters

The person who leaked U.S. classified documents prompting a national security investigation is a gun enthusiast in his 20s who worked on a military base, the Washington Post reported on Wednesday, citing fellow members of an online chat group.

How in the world does a 20 something get access to top secret documents when he’s not part of the security apparatus of the United States? What a dangerous and embarrassing situation for the US government.

NBC News

WASHINGTON — Former President Donald Trump has asked a federal appeals court to take immediate action to block former Vice President Mike Pence from testifying in the Justice Department’s probe into the Jan. 6 Capitol riot.

I’ll bet he’s asking the courts to block Pence from testifying. I’d imagine Pence, being the weakling coward he is, will take the fifth a bunch and not say much.

At first I thought he acted bravely on January 6. Then I realized he didn’t do nearly enough to stop it from getting that far. He was a witness to the planning and could’ve stopped it long before it happened.

[from-the-clouds]

Thinking of a Place (Part VII) - Kendall Roy x Reader

gif by @televisionchronicles

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Fic Playlist | Masterlist

Summary: The penultimate chapter.

Words: 6.4k

Warnings: Angst, alcohol consumption, discussions of drug abuse/addiction.

A/N: Massive apologies to everyone for the semi-cliffhanger and then delayed update. Life was very stressful and crazy, and I wrote briefly for another fandom. I had such bad writers block with this part, but I do think it is one of my favorites. Please let me know what you think.

The spires of the cathedral were jagged, jutting straight up and somehow still managing to make the church appear more threatening than the skyscrapers that towered around it. You had to tilt your head back all the way to take it in, dragging your feet up the steps.

“This is gonna be so awful,” a voice sounded behind you, and you paused your slow procession for it to catch up. “Oh, it’s gonna suck so bad.”

Stewy fell into step beside you, glued to his phone and texting frantically, trying to do some business last-minute before it would be taboo. You wanted to laugh, but knew now was not the time. Plus, your stomach was twisting itself in knots, and it might’ve felt nice to relieve some of the tension squirming about.

It only gets worse from here.

“You don’t know the half of it,” you sympathized absentmindedly. It wasn’t too late to back out, was it? You could. All it would take was to turn around, get back in the car and go home, pretend it never happened. It would be better to erase this part of your life and never look back.

Hell, you weren’t even planning to be there, until Stewy guilted you into it. It wasn’t fair.

“We should go to the funeral, right?” he had mused over the phone, catching you after work. “Like, that’s the right thing to do, no?”

You pushed back your cuticles and paused the episode of Shark Tank you had on, stifling a laugh. There was no chance you’d be able to pay attention. “Since when do you care about doing the right thing?”

“I don’t,” he scoffed, offended. “But it might make me look bad…is what I’m saying. I was on the board, I owned all those shares….it’d be bad for business, at least.”

“Yeah,” you paused. “I don’t care if I look bad.”

“Well, yeah, but you still have to go with me,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“Do I?”

“Yeah, I’m not fucking going to this thing alone.”

“Stewy, no…I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Come on, uhhh, let’s see, what dirt could I scrounge up to use as blackmail to make sure you come?” he mused. “Maybe I should hire a PI.”

“Good luck with that,” you laughed, but felt your face fall, something nagging at the back of your mind.

Even though you knew Stewy was joking, you did wonder if it was possible someone could ever find evidence of what had happened between you and Kendall. On your end, there was no paper trail. Perhaps a few spicy texts you’d shared, but even those were vague enough to give you plausible deniability, and you’d never uttered a word about it to anyone. As for him, you had no idea. But it’s not like you were going to try to find out.

“No,” Stewy said, after a pause. “You’re a good person, that’s why you’ll go. I don’t even need to guilt you. You’ll do it to yourself.” “No I won’t!,” you exclaimed in mock indignity. “You don’t know me….”

But you knew Stewy was right. Even before he’d called you, you’d already been considering it. Through all the bullshit, you had spent so many years of your life at Waystar. And it wasn’t just Kendall you’d grown close to. Gerri, Greg, even Shiv at times had all been some sort of friend. You had to show support. This wasn’t just about him.

“But… “ For all you knew, it might be crowded enough that you didn’t even have to speak to Kendall. Maybe, if you were really lucky, he wouldn’t be there. You weren’t sure what terms he was on with Logan, anyways. You knew it was the right thing to do.

“....yeah, I guess I should go,” you added.

So you went to the funeral, filing into the church alongside Stewy Hosseini of all people. You were ultimately glad you weren’t alone, just because you would’ve felt incredibly uncomfortable. You still did, of course. But you already couldn’t imagine anything worse than this.

The sound of chanting – coming from the small group of protestors outside – reached your ears from the back of the church where you sat, with your eyes cast down. There weren’t as many people in attendance as you were expecting, though there were still probably hundreds, a fair amount of them journalists, some of them there for the story, others to pay their respects – which was rather laughable if you thought about it. But besides all the suits and ties, and old white men with haggard faces, it still felt like there weren’t that many. A man like Logan Roy didn’t seem to keep friends, unless they were good for business. And even then, you’d seen how disposable members of his inner circle could be.

The service was long, and felt like it lasted forever. Maybe it was just your nerves, you couldn’t stop fidgeting next to Stewy, who gave you a couple of side-eyed glares while you nibbled on your cuticles and twisted one of the rings on your fingers, crossing and uncrossing your legs.

Marcia, Shiv, Roman, and Connor all spoke, but not Kendall. In fact, you were beginning to think he wasn’t even there, felt the persistent pinch between your shoulder blades begin to release, especially once the service wrapped up, and the priest announced that the burial was closed to immediate family only.

It made you feel a little more relaxed. Just an hour – give or take – and you could go home, know you weren’t a heartless monster who wouldn’t show up, and not have to live with anymore guilt. You were almost in the clear.

“Shall we pay our respects?” asked Stewy, standing up from his spot.

“Probably,” you said, lining up behind the long processional that fed towards the altar where the family sat.

Stewy didn’t say anything for awhile, hands in the pockets of his impeccably tailored suit. You were grateful for the silence, especially when he opened his mouth and spoke again.

“I bet Ken will be so happy to see you after all this time,” he eyed you carefully with a devilish twinkle in his eyes, gauging your reaction.

You pressed your lips together. Narrowed your eyes. I know what you’re doing.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you kept it playful.

“Well, you know…he always had a thing for you. He never would admit it to me but….I just knew it.”

You feigned surprise, before shrugging and shaking your head. “I don’t know about that. And if how he treated me is how he treats people he likes? Then I’d want no part in it.”

Stewy had been given a very vague explanation of your reasons for leaving Waystar, the headline being that Kendall had offended you one-to-many times – which wasn’t exactly a lie.

“That’s his modus operandi,” Stewy said. “Fuck people over until they leave. It’s almost like he wants it to happen.”

Stewy had known Kendall since childhood, he knew him better than you did, in a lot of ways. Still, you wished what he was saying wasn’t true.

“Yeah,” you shook your head. “I don’t know.”

After that, Stewy let it go, thank god. For the rest of the time spent waiting, he chatted with you idly, sneakily hiding behind you to use his phone and send emails. You started to zone out as he droned to you about various topics – why NFTs were the future of currency and how you needed to buy one, some club he was investing in that sold magic mushroom infused cocktails, and his upcoming trip to Dubai. Despite the subject matter, you were thankful to have him as a distraction as the number of people in the church dwindled.

And then you saw him.

The man standing next to Shiv with his hands buried in the pockets of his suit, crisp and unwrinkled. You had actually noticed him already, but didn’t even recognize him at first. Kendall.

He looked exhausted, utterly spent, eyes flickering down as he shrugged his arm forward to shake someone’s hand. And although you weren’t surprised to see him in such a state considering the circumstances, that wasn’t why you didn’t recognize him right away.

He looked….good. Healthy, even. His skin was practically glowing, his hair had grown out, speckled with far more gray than you remembered. Perhaps he’d been dyeing it all this time. It didn’t matter, because it suited him. Fuck. You were still attracted to him, which didn’t bode well. You supposed you always would be, though, whether he was a coked-out mess or a put-together, confident and powerful man. The appeal would never leave you. But it wasn’t like you still had feelings for him, or anything.

Kendall glanced around the room, as the person he had been talking to moved on, scanning diligently. And even though you tried to angle yourself behind Stewy, to remain out of sight, you weren’t fast enough. It was too late. When he saw you, he did a double-take. Then, he was locked in.

Oh, great. You weren’t sure if you thought it, or you muttered it under your breath.

Against your better judgment, you met his gaze. Something fluttered in your stomach. Kendall tilted his head, and you were a little surprised by the tenderness written on his features, warmth in his eyes, like he was only seeing you. Like you both knew something no one else in the room did. You found yourself lingering there, just for a moment longer than you should have.

The only thing that pulled you away was someone shaking you, tapping you relentlessly, saying your name. Finally, you turned away from Kendall, somewhat thankful. You still snuck one final glance over your shoulder, to find that he had also been pulled away.

“Greg!” you exclaimed when you saw who it was that had stolen your attention.

“Hey,” Towering over you, he grinned widely. “S-so good to see you.”

“You too!”

Considering he was on Logan’s side of the deal with Gojo, you hadn’t technically been allowed to talk to him. But that didn’t matter anymore. Now, he was one of the bigwigs at Waystar, carrying himself with more confidence than you thought possible. Even then, he was still just as gangly, offering you the most awkward side-hug you’d encountered. “How are you?”

“Good,” you embraced him in return. “I’m so sorry about your uncle.”

“It’s like, you know….it’s one of those things that happen, I guess,” he said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear. He didn’t seem that upset. “It’s good to see you.”

Before being pulled in different directions, you and Greg had been quite close. He was your go-to person to share a joint with during an excruciating networking event; and you, him, and Jess pretty much had therapy sessions commiserating about your nearly-insufferable bosses. Yet, you all stuck around.

“Good to see you too.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Stewy raise his hand to wave at someone across the room, phone to his ear, and he stepped away and out of your periphery. You assumed it would be the last time you’d see him that day. So much for having company.

“So like, what are you doing now, like, work-wise?” Greg asked.

“Well, you know I’m-”

“Greg, come on, we’re going now-” the click of heels on the hardwood, accompanied by a familiar voice was a dead giveaway. Shiv. Her face lit up when she saw you, her three brothers trailing behind. The line had scattered before you could even get to them.

“Oh my god,” Shiv surprised you with a rare hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, I’m so sorry about your dad,” you said as she released you.

“Yeah well, you know,” Shiv shrugged, dropping her hand. “I’m surprised you’re here. How have you been?”

“I’m good. Are you still working at-”

“I thought we had like, 20 minutes?” Greg interrupted, leaning to whisper in her ear.

“Uh, yeah. I said that 30 minutes ago,” Shiv answered, pulling her phone out to look at it. “Can you go find Tom? I’ve tried calling him and he’s not picking up.” She turned her attention back to you.

“I’m so sorry, we have to get going, this day has been so-”

“Don’t apologize, I get it,” you shook your head. You’d been to your own fathers funeral, and even though Logan was a different type of parent, you couldn’t imagine how stressful this was for any of his children.

“Thank you for understanding. Hey!” she said, like she’d forgotten something. “You’re coming to Ken’s after this, right? You should be there.”

You meant to object to Shiv’s request politely, but before you could, you were interrupted.

“Oh there she is, the girl who fucking ghosted us all,” Roman jutted in, words rather harsh, even though there was a dark smile on his face and he was shaking your shoulders. Shiv had turned away and was whispering to Greg. “Nice of you to show up.”

“Rome, I don’t think that’s helpful-” a familiar deep timbre was in your ear and your eyes flickered over just as Kendall stepped between you and his younger brother. He peered at you cautiously as Roman lost interest in offering any more verbal harassment, turning to throw a snarky remark at Connor and Willa instead.

“Hey,” Kendall said, much of the chatter and chaos around you fading. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” you said, not sure what to do. Hug him? Shake his hand? It concerned you that immediately, your first instinct was to comfort him. But the more conscious part of your brain recoiled at the thought. Do something. Say something. You were frozen, until finally, you remembered your funeral etiquette. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Yeah,” he answered, nodding. “Yeah, thank you, it’s uh…it’s pretty tough.”

You nodded, inhaling through your nose as you shifted your weight, and Kendall’s gaze flickered downward, both of you holding for a clumsy silence.

“It’s uh,” Kendall cleared his throat. “It’s good to see you, though.”

You swallowed hard, feigning indifference. “Yeah, it’s been awhile.”

“Ken, come on, or we’ll leave without you,” Shiv was backing away. Roman, Greg, and a slew of others hovering around.

“Okay, okay,” he stepped away. “Listen I gotta get to the burial but uh, I uh….you know we’re uh, having some people over at my place after - mostly Waystar people…. just, you know, for food and….” he trailed off. “Closer family and friends…..you should come. You were a big part of it all.”

“Yeah, don’t know about that.” A big part of it all? He was playing you. You wanted to make an excuse. Some reason you couldn’t make it. You were drawing a blank. No was a complete sentence, but that simple syllable lay dead on your tongue.

“It’s the truth,” Kendall insisted earnestly. “You should be there, really.”

“Uhh, okay, I guess…” you forced your lips to form a tight-lipped, reluctant smile.

“Okay,” Relief washed over his features and he stepped away. “Okay, I’ll uh, I’ll see you there.”

You turned your back to him, tilted your head back to groan, and stared at a long-haired man in the stained glass window.

Why?

— — — — —

Being back in Kendall’s apartment felt…strange. On one hand, you no longer belonged. It had been ages. It was unfamiliar, cold. Like a museum. On the other hand, it was as though no time had passed. Warmth still lingered in the space, and your eyes were inexplicably drawn to places they shouldn’t have been – the couch where he had first kissed you, the wall he’d pinned you against in the hallway. You were just lucky you didn’t have to go into his bedroom, for whatever reason.

So you spent much of your time hovering around Gerri, who you’d lost touch with – mostly after Kendall tried to sabotage his father – but that grudge had come and gone. During your years at Waystar, she’d become something of a mentor to you, and the closest thing you had to a mother besides…well, your own mother, who you only considered your mother because it was the objective truth.

But more importantly, you could always rely on her if you needed to talk shit. Over the years, that was the kind of trust you didn’t earn with just anyone, but you had a mutual understanding. What you said to each other never left the room you were in, and you always had to keep any insider information to yourself.

And at the party, Gerri did a good job of keeping you included in conversations so you weren’t forced to talk to anyone you didn’t want to – which was pretty much only one person. She spent most of the time filling you in on what had happened in and outside of the business since you’d left it, much to your dismay. Your morbid curiosity, however, was very encouraged by the information.

“Did you hear that Rava is remarrying?” Gerri asked you, under her breath as you sat next to her, nursing a bourbon and nibbling on amuse bouche.

“No, I didn’t,” you said, raising an eyebrow, though it wasn’t exactly a surprise. You wondered how Kendall handled the news, then pushed the thought aside.

“Really?” Gerri sipped on her martini. “Wow, you really did cut ties,” she said, giving you a side-eye, while still scanning the room, settling back to make sure she had noted everyone in the space and where exactly they were. She was and had always been, by far, the most capable person you’d ever known. “I thought you and Ken kept in touch.”

You snorted, scowling, and glanced over at Gerri, who was studying you carefully. “I haven’t seen or talked to him since I left.” Of course, you’d never tell Gerri the extent of your history with Ken.

Your acting must have paid off, because she moved on without issue. “That one,” Gerri gestured to Roman, who was downing a glass of champagne. “Lord only knows what will happen with that one now that Logan’s gone.”

You smirked, as your gaze flickered between her and Roman, recalling a rumor you’d heard. It was too preposterous to ever be true, and far too sordid to even jokingly bring up to her. “Yeah, who knows…”

She gave a dry laugh in response. Then sighed. “I should probably stop being so antisocial,” Gerri said, uncrossing her legs.

You nodded in agreement, standing up along with her, making your way to get another bourbon – which was the only thing keeping you remotely relaxed.

“Hey,” you felt a hand on your arm just as you took the first sip, and turned around to find Shiv with a champagne flute in her hand. “I hate to do this, but can you help me find Ken? We’re supposed to do a toast, and he basically like, vanished.”

“Shiv, I-” you began to object.

“Please?” she pressed, pouting slightly. You supposed that this wasn’t about you, at all. That she was mourning her father and you could stop being so selfish.

“Yeah, I can-”

“Whaddup sluts?” Roman injected.

Shiv’s eyes widened in a mortified expression. “Rome, can’t you at least pretend to be upset?”

“Eh, well, that’s always been Ken’s job,” he put his hand on his hip, pressing them forward and peering around the room. “Speaking of which, where is he? Sulking because he didn’t go before dad?”

“Roman,” Shiv warned, then glanced all around her nervously for anyone within earshot.

“What? Stop that, you know it was almost him just a few months ago,” he rolled his eyes.

His words took a second to land.

“Wait, what happened?” you blurted before Shiv could even scold him.

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” Roman grinned, absolutely diabolical.

Shiv flipped her hair and leaned forward, hissing at him. “Now is not the time to-”

“No, no it’s fine,” Roman said, coughing after he took an overzealous sip of champagne. “I’ll just repress the traumatic memory of finding my big brother unconscious on his bathroom floor, it’s fine-”

“Roman-”

“Hey, what did he do to you anyways?” Roman turned to you, standing wide eyed and shocked at his callousness, bits and pieces of a horrific story coming together in your mind with each careless toss of words in your direction. “Because he didn’t tell us shit. It had to be pretty fucking bad, though.”

You shrugged, trying to remain nonchalant. “I can’t even remember.”

“Bullshit, come on, what really happened? It fucked him up, like, so good.”

You couldn’t answer. God, you’d really lost your ability to deal with these kinds of people, to stay stoned-faced and unfeeling while horrible things were being said straight to your face. And Roman, of all of them, was probably the most harmless. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him. He was just an….acquired taste. A lot more bitter than you remembered.

“Come on, tell us, I’m dying to know.” Shiv had quieted, looking on.

Finally, finally, that old fire in you lit up – just enough for you to press your lips together in a coy smile as you raised your hands. “I’ve signed too many NDA’s Rome, I can’t answer that.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Ugh, whatever, you….so fucking cryptic, too good for us, now?”

“Fuck off,” you rolled your eyes, shoving him playfully. “I’ll find Kendall,” you nodded at Shiv.

It was a little concerning to know that he hadn’t changed in the slightest since you’d last spoken, you thought somewhere along the way he might try to be….or get better. But they were Roys. None of them would ever really thrive.

After doing a turn about the apartment and being unable to find him anywhere, you finally decided to try his office, figuring he might be in one of the more closed off areas of the space. Shiv putting you up to this seemed like a sick joke, but thanks to Roman’s big mouth you got the impression that neither of them actually knew anything, which made this whole situation less humiliating.

The office door was ajar, which meant that he probably wasn’t inside if all he wanted were a few moments of privacy. You poked your head inside and saw nothing at first glance, until your eyes caught a small form hunched in the corner of the room.

Sat with his knees to his chest, folded in a ball, head parallel with the ground, he was a sight.

“Hey,” you said softly.

One of his palms swiped his nose as he glanced over at you. “Oh, hey,” he answered, staring back at the floor, snorting and shaking his head. He’d been crying. He didn’t want you, or anybody to see it. Curled up and isolated, ashamed and vulnerable, a boy hiding his tears from a world and from a father that might see it and call him what he knew he was: weak.

And you might’ve told him to go find Shiv and then leave him there alone like that.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you stepped into the room, closing the door behind you. “Shiv sent me to come find you. Something about a toast….?”

“Oh yeah,” he grunted. “Yeah….I should probably get back out there.”

“You should take a second, if you need one.”

He didn't turn, didn't acknowledge you, just studied the polished marble floors. And you were bracing yourself against the wall so you could slide to sit next to him, crossing your legs when you were on the ground, back against the wall. Kendall’s shoulders sagged.

It felt like ages that you sat next to him, huddled like that, steeping in the tension, in the sorrow melting off of him.

“Is it bad that I feel kind of relieved?” he asked after a while, unmoving.

You snorted, remembering the first time Logan had ever yelled at you to fuck off, and then also a game he’d made up at a corporate retreat called Boar on the Floor. Both incidents had been mildly traumatizing, but were isolated. What it felt like to live through a lifetime of that type of humiliation and cruelty, you couldn’t imagine. “Not at all.”

"I-I’m relieved….” He reiterated. “....and I feel so fucking guilty.”

You inhaled, stared at whatever he was staring at, the wheels of his desk chair.

“He didn’t want me to speak at his memorial. His own son. All I did was let him down. I could’ve been….I could’ve been better.”

The words he spoke had a visceral reaction, you were suddenly queasy. And keeping your mouth shut only made it worse, holding back would’ve been more agonizing. “That’s not true, Kendall,” you shook your head. “He was impossible to please. People like him…they don’t change. You’d be setting yourself up to get hurt”

“Uh-huh.” Kendall’s eyes were on you, burning a hole in the side of your face, so uncomfortable and distracting that you gave in to it and stole him a glance. His expression was written with concern. Is that why you left? He had more of his father in him than he’d ever be willing to admit, a poison that was ever-spreading despite his desperation to purge himself of all that evil. And he couldn’t be sure he was capable of that.

“Thanks again for coming.”

“Oh, you know,” you shrugged. “Figured I should.”

“It means a lot.”

“Yeah.”

A bandaid had to be ripped off, one that covered a wound so deep it might start bleeding and never stop. It was better to be left covered up.

He saved you the trouble. “So uh…what have you been getting into?”

“I work at an ad firm,” you said. “In house legal services.”

He nodded, a smile quivering at the corner of his mouth. “That sounds perfect for you.”

“Yeah, it definitely fits.”

“They probably love you there, I bet.”

You scoffed. “I don’t know about that….but, yeah…it’s….you know, it’s good. I’m….happy.”

He was gazing at you wistfully. Gentle, but still so sad. He was missing out. So many things that had happened over the past year, and he hadn’t been there to see any of it. He was mourning all the time lost. But he didn’t deserve your time. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

You turned away from the intensity of his expression. It would all come crumbling down around you. All you were supposed to do was retrieve him, and instead you were sitting next to him on the floor, letting him chat you up, and getting dust all over funeral dress. Things were clearly already crumbling.

“You know, everyone’s probably wondering…” you began.

“Yeah, you’re right. We should go.” Kendall pushed himself to his feet in record speed, turning to offer you his hand, so close to your face that refusing it would’ve been rude, like that was his plan all along. And you took it, as lightly as you could.

The skirt of your dress that had ridden up, and you tugged it back into place while Kendall smoothed down the lapels of his suit. “Did it get wrinkled?” he asked you, and you sized him up, frowning when you noticed some dust on the collar.

“Here,” you stepped towards him, into his space, using your hand to wipe away the lint, looking down at his chest. “And uh….your tie is…” You reached out to tuck it back in his jacket, fingers lingering a little too long when you caught a whiff of his cologne. It had taken nearly all day to get used to being back with these people, but five minutes with Kendall and you were already reverting back to old habits. “There.”

When you stepped away and looked at Kendall, that dejected look on his face had returned, and his eyes were searching yours desperately. It hurt. You could see all the regret in his features, all the things he wanted to say but wasn’t. His eyes were trying to find something to hold onto in your own, to cling to something so he wasn’t swallowed entirely by grief.

You looked at the floor. There wasn’t anyone strong enough to confront that look. At some point, you thought you could. Not anymore. He wasn’t any of your business.

When you glanced back over at him, he’d sunk his gaze to the ground, was shrinking before you.

You would tell yourself you didn’t know what compelled you to embrace him. That your hand rose to his shoulder, on its own accord, and the words you spoke couldn’t have been from your mouth.

“Hey. It’ll be alright.”

Kendall stiffened at first, the surprise at your actions jolting through his body, as you closed the space between you and laid your arms around his torso. He was warm, he smelled like you always remembered – expensive cologne, cigarettes, laundry detergent. But the way he melted into you when he realized – oh. It was almost euphoric. His arms wound around your waist, his fingers kneaded into the fabric of your black dress. The shuddery inhale he took when his face pressed against your neck made you shiver.

It shouldn’t have excited you that much, to be so close to him again. But it did. It satiated something deep-seated within that you couldn’t seem to control today.

Kendall choked in a whimper, sounding half relieved, half in pain. “Fuck,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry. So so sorry,” he sobbed, as you both clutched at each other desperately.

Tears pricked at the back of your eyes, and you struggled to keep from crying for the first time that day. One of his hands rubbed your back an attempt to comfort you, even as he fell apart. The purchase of his hands was so sturdy….but brittle. Under any more pressure he might break.

“I know,” you answered, barely above a squeak. You couldn’t trust yourself to be any louder without crying, and Romans words from earlier were filtering back into your mind. Shifting your hand to the back of his neck, you drew him even closer. “I was worried about you. ”

“I’m okay,” he said softly.

He held you, unwavering, for an undetermined amount of time. It had to end, and it did, when you both slowly unwound from each other, swiping underneath your eyes. But his hand lingered on your waist as you walked out of the office.

Kendall stayed close to you for the rest of evening, joining in on conversations near yours, standing next to you during whatever toasts were being made. You even stood chatting to Sophie and Iverson about school while he looked on. But as things began to wind down, he disappeared again, and you started to do your rounds saying goodbye. You’d spent enough time back in this world, and didn’t need to stay.

It was your chance to slip away. And you thought it would go unnoticed, that maybe you could vanish and no one would see it happen. You had your hand on the doorknob when you heard the clip of dress shoes on the marble floor. The footsteps halted behind you, and there was a hand on your shoulder.

“Please don’t go.”

“Kendall, you should be with your family,” you turned around to face him.

“They’re going to leave,” he said, hand moving down to wrap around your bicep. “I want…can you be with me? Just a little longer.”

You felt your posture slump. He was your biggest weakness, the sorest nerve inside you. Did he know it? He had to. If that was true, you could write him off as the monster you’d tried to convince yourself he was. But maybe it wasn’t so sinister. Was Kendall capable of that? For some reason, even after all he’d put you through, you didn’t think so. You were going to give in to him, like you always did. You’d held out for so long this time.

“Okay,” you said, letting his hand trail down your arm before it dropped at his side.

“Thank you,” he said, eyes searching yours in earnest as you followed him back down the hallway.

The party, if that was what you could even call it, ended within the hour. Everyone trickled out, even Shiv and Roman, the mess cleaned up by the event staff. And you and Kendall were left alone.

This could be a recipe for disaster, you thought. Or it could be exactly what you knew it was.

“Will you uh, sit outside with me while I…have a cigarette?” he asked, after you’d spent a fair amount of time sitting rigidly on the couch in front of him.

Nodding your head, you followed him outside, crossing your arms and keeping your distance from the edge of the balcony. The lights from the city shrouded any stars in the sky, and instead created their own constellations – the glow of windows stretching out endlessly across the skyline. And the distant sounds of sirens and car horns were far enough away to be an ambiance. It was….peaceful, even with Kendall there.

But, determined to not make it so, Kendall held a cigarette between his lips, leaning over the glass railing, head hanging out over the open air. Air, so much air and absolutely nothing between him and the ground below. Standing in his living room looking out the window was different than being in the open like this. You didn’t feel nearly as safe.

“Be careful,” you blurted, reaching out to clasp a hand around his bicep.

Kendall chuckled just a little, pulling the cigarette from between his lips. “Don’t worry,” he said, but he did step away, and then closer to you. Fuck. That’s not what you had meant to happen. He really did look good, all emotional turmoil aside. Especially the grey hair, it was doing something for you, and you really hadn't expected to feel so drawn to him.

You swallowed hard and nodded, satisfied that he wasn’t – on accident or on purpose – going to topple over the edge. Backing away, you sat on the couch, trying not to shiver from the chill of the evening.

“Want one?” Kendall asked as he sat down next to you, offering you his pack of American Spirits. You accepted. You weren’t much of a cigarette smoker, but maybe it’d do something about the incessant panic nipping the back of your head. Placing it between your lips, Kendall leaned in to light it for you.

“Are you working anywhere right now?” you asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke. It seemed harmless enough a question, but something to break the uncomfortable silence. Sterile, as if you two were at a networking event.

“Uh–huh,” Kendall lit his own cigarette. “Well, I uh….I’ve got a few things going on but uh…mostly I’m just…figuring it out.”

“I’ve been there.”

He winced when you said it, and looked at his feet. “Yeah, uh….I-I know.”

You didn’t answer. You chewed on your bottom lip and took another drag.

“I uh…” Kendall spoke again. “A few months back I wrote you a letter. Did you….did you get it?”

“Yeah I did…” You took a deep breath. “I read it.”

Kendall nodded, stared at his dress shoes, hunched over in his white shirt – the suit jacket and tie long since abandoned. “I uh….I hurt a lot of people…” he said, lifting his head, turning to face you. “I’m really trying to be better now.”

“Uh-huh,” You couldn’t help but keep the sarcasm from leaking into your tone. If it was months ago you would’ve given him a piece of your mind. But you had healed….for the most part.

“I’ve been sober for six months,” he said.

That softened you. “That’s great, Ken.”

He gave you a small and bashful smile, looking out at the horizon. The quiet no longer felt as heavy. Kendall straightened up.

“You look great, by the way,” he said, looking up at you from over his shoulder.

You bit your lower lip to keep from smiling, but you couldn’t really stop it. “Uh-huh,” you answered. “Well….you do too.” It was the truth. And you weren’t one to lie.

“Uh-huh. Thanks,” he smirked and looked back at the horizon, taking another drag.

You stayed with him a little longer, but when the dress you wore had you shivering on his porch, you decided it was time to go. Kendall protested, of course, offering to let you borrow a sweatshirt, saying you could sleep in one of his guest rooms, or at the very least call a car to take you home. But you refused all of it.

You were on your way out when he stopped you, your name on his lips, the warmth of his hand around your wrist, penetrative stare all-encompassing and halting you entirely.

“I think about you all the time, you know that?” he asked. “Every day. You were so good to me.”

His words made you shiver, or maybe it was left over from being outside in the cold. Either way, you were feeling a little overwhelmed, a bitter taste on your tongue despite the sweetness of his words. You wanted to believe him, to trust him so badly. Wanted to tell him so many things.

You just nodded in response.

“Can we….I-I want to see you again…” he said softly. “It doesn’t have to be anything, I just…I really missed you.”

It looked like he was going to cry again, standing so close you could see the shine lying dormant in his eyes. “I want to be able to talk to you again, at least. Is that…is that okay?”

You looked at the floor. You knew the best thing to do for yourself was to close this chapter of your life. It seemed like loving him would only ever end in heartbreak. But he was impossible, he was inevitable.

“Yeah, let’s just…” Take it slow. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

Relief washed over him, his face relaxing and a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Of course.”

He pulled you into another hug. “Thank you,” he murmured. He felt so warm and safe, and every bone in your body betrayed you as you surrendered to his touch.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, and kind of hoped he didn’t hear it. But he must have, holding you closer, pressing his lips into your hair, then your temple. After a little more time spent wrapped in his arms, you pulled away and then slipped out the door.

You would regret this, you thought. But you were going to do it anyways.

Part VIII

#if you're reading this please come into my inbox and ask me to share the photo i envisioned while writing about grey-haired ken because.... #its something i think all kendall enjoyers need to see #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #succession #succession writing #kengirls come get yall juice #stewy hosseini #shiv roy #logan roy #roman x reader #gerri kellman #greg hirsch #kendall roy x you #kendall roy angst

[knucklescum]

Ink - Matt Murdock x reader soulmate au

Pairing: Daredevil Matt Murdock x reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, mentions of violence

Blank. Your entire body had been completely blank for your entire life. No scribbled notes on the back of your hand, no absentminded doodles and drawings up and down your arm. Nothing.

You’d had your own markings there, of course; appointment times hurriedly jotted on your hand as your doctor hangs up the phone. Hell, your arm was frequently covered in various flowers, eyes and a multitude of dicks as your old school friends showed off their artistic ‘abilities’. You dread to think what your soulmate had thought of you back then.

It had been a while since you had thought about your soulmate, their lack of interest in inking themselves up causing you to pretty much forget their existence entirely. They only came up in conversation when you’d go out for drinks with your friends or when someone you knew finally found their soulmate. You hadn’t given up searching, you’d just given up giving a fuck.

Today, you started a new case. It wasn’t often that your firm took on clients who were undeniably evil - sure, some were a little cheeky sometimes - but you guessed that this client in particular was paying the big bucks.

You had originally started at Hastings & co. as a freelance private investigator, working with Everett Hastings to find the best clients or, more correctly, the clients with the easiest cases to defend. It wasn’t long before Everett’s offers were too hard to ignore, the financial stability of working for a firm providing you with far more long term solutions to all of your daily struggles. That had been six years ago now. Now you had your very own office and effectively the freedom to find your own cases once again, as long as you stayed within Hastings’ admittedly lenient guidelines.

This case, however, you had no say in. 

Lost in thought, you barely notice the intern standing in your doorway until he gives two gentle knocks on the doorframe.

‘Miss, the client has arrived. Everett has requested that you introduce yourself.’ 

‘Yes, yes of course,’ you look up, quickly jumping out of your seat and snatching your pen and paper from the edge of the desk. ‘Is the client by themselves? Or is there a whole entourage like last time?’ 

You both begin walking down the hallway before the intern starts again, ‘No, it’s just him. But,’ he pauses, coming to a stop and leaning in to whisper, ‘I think he’s wired. He keeps fiddling with his ear.’

You nod as you make your way towards the office, ‘Okay. Thanks, dude. See you later.’ The two of you exchange small waves before you turn to open the office door, forcing a polite smile on to your face. 

Immediately, you recognise the client. His perfectly polished face had been all over the news recently - this was an extremely high profile case. You don’t hesitate in sending a smile his way, sticking your hand out to meet his.

The two of you shake hands as you introduce yourself, the situation surprisingly pleasant until you share your role at the firm with him. He scoffs as the words ‘private investigator’ leave your mouth.

‘Ralph Spentsworth. You can call me Raffie, though I doubt we’ll be interacting again.’ He laughs again, shooing you away with his hand. ‘I have no interest in communicating with an unqualified, wannabe detective.’

Turning to Everett, you shoot him a look for him to support you.

Everett coughs, nodding at you before looking back to Ralph.

‘I can assure you, Raffie, she is very much qualified for your case. She’s your best bet at walking away from this situation unscathed.’ 

‘Thank you, Mr Hastings,’ you say before gesturing to the door, ‘Should I get started?’

Everett glances around the room before giving you a curt nod, ‘Yes, Miss, that’ll be all for now. All of the files regarding Mr Spentswor- sorry, Raffie’s case should have already been emailed over to you. Good luck.’ 

-----

It was way past the end of your shift. Almost everyone in the office had said their farewells to you for the evening, although you had no idea how long it had been since you had said goodnight to your last colleague. You were completely and utterly lost in the research for Ralph’s case. It had been obvious that he was in fact guilty of a crime right from the get-go, but you had no idea just how horrific his crimes had been. As with most of the big bad clients, there was more than one crime spanning over multiple weeks, but Hastings and co. were only defending him for one particular set of crimes. Thankfully, each of these cases were heavily reported on by local news stations and papers which aided your moral judgement - but it made your job increasingly more difficult.

Shares holder Ralph Spentsworth suspected of grievous bodily harm after money laundering scheme goes bust.

Local businessman Ralph Spentsworth allegedly spotted beating woman to death.

Eyewitnesses report local business owner ‘Raffie’ Spentsworth breaking and entering before damning emergency call is made.

Shit.

How on earth are you supposed to find evidence for this guy? Wherever you look, you could only find more and more incriminating evidence. Extremely obvious evidence.

As you continue your search, Everett makes his way into your office.

‘Fantastic, you’re still here. I need to discuss something with you.’ Everett plants himself into one of the seats opposite your desk, leaning himself over to peer at you.

‘I didn’t think you’d still be here,’ you laugh as you check the time. 

23:46

‘I didn’t plan on it,’ he laughs. ‘I’m just going to confide in you, I’m asking politely that you don’t say ‘I told you so’, okay?’.

‘Hmm.’ You nod, encouraging him to continue.

He shifts his eyes around the office, clearly debating whether to continue. 

‘I shouldn’t have taken this case.’

You shake your head in both amusement and understanding as he stutters to support his statement. 

‘I’m being serious. He’s fucking evil. He doesn’t feel guilty at all. No remorse whatsoever. I’ve seriously fucked up.’

Cutting off his ramblings, you rest your hand on his as you think of something, anything to say to make him feel better.

‘Look, Everett. You’re right, we shouldn’t have taken this case,’ he looks up at you, a sad smile on his face. ‘But there’s things we can do to fix this. To make things right.’

He suddenly springs up in his seat, drumming his hands on your desk.

‘Okay, okay. I have an idea. Won’t be monetarily great for us but it’ll ease my conscience.’

‘Oh?’ You tilt your head at him, clicking the pen in your hand, ready to take notes in your now wide open notepad. 

‘We find the victim’s lawyer.’ He says, before you interject.

‘Victim? Is the victim not, you know, dead?’ You ask, confused as to just how a dead woman can be defended in court.

‘There were 3 victims. A family. The bastard killed the wife and daughter but the husband is still alive. Got a few life changing injuries, as one would, but he’s alive.’

‘Fuck. Okay, this could work,’ you say, scribbling down information onto the paper. ‘Do we know the guy’s name?’ You turn to your computer, opening google with your fingers hovering over the keyboard.

‘Leo. Leo Baker.’ Everett confidently utters to you, resting his head on his fist as you frantically type.

‘Found him. Okay-y,’ you say, pausing to write Leo’s name on your hand. Important information goes on the hand. 

It takes a good while before you find a news article specifically about Leo. You scan the article for any information at all regarding a lawyer or anything to do with the legal system, ultimately with no luck.

You continue to scour the internet for more information, eventually landing on the Facebook profile of an elderly woman who appears to be a neighbour to the Baker family, with frequent updates and statuses on the case.

‘I think I’ve got a lead.’ You say, ushering Everett over to your side of the desk with your pen. He quickly makes his way over, peering at the screen.

He seems to be a few posts ahead of you as he points at the post furthest to the bottom.

‘Lovely Leo has found himself a very friendly pair of lawyers. Not a fan of their office though, needs an upgrade!’ Everett reads, ‘Maybe send her a message? She might be able to give us the address of Leo’s lawyers.’

Everett returns back to his seat, promptly pulling his phone from his pocket.

‘Shit, I’ve gotta run. You work on that message though and keep me updated, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Goodnight, Everett.’ You wave your hand at him, gesturing for him to leave. ‘I’ll lock up on my way out!’ 

‘You’re a star!’ He shoots a finger gun at you before quickly leaving the room, closing the door behind him. 

Not long after Everett left, you formulated the perfect message for Leo’s neighbour. You hadn’t been expecting a response at such an unreasonable time, but you had received a notification in no time at all.

You frantically search for your phone in the depths of your bag, fishing it out to call Everett. You ring twice to no response, opting to text him instead.

Got the address. Nelson And Murdock. You heard of them? Heading over in the morning

Tossing your phone to the side, you pick up your pen and write the number for Nelson and Murdock on your hand, along with the building name and number.

-----

08:00

You awoke to the blaring sound of your alarm, sleepily reaching over to your bedside table to turn it off, instead knocking your phone from its place on the edge of the furniture. Sliding out of bed, you pick up your phone and turn the alarm off, preparing to start the day.

It doesn’t take long for the hour to pass, your 09:00am alarm reminding you to call the two men that you had been researching the night before, Nelson and Murdock. 

The notes on your hand were slightly faded but still legible. You rushed to enter the number into your phone’s dial keypad, bringing the phone up to your ear.

After a single ring, the phone is answered.

Before you or the person on the other end can speak, you hear a bellowing voice from somewhere in the background.

‘-op secret information is on your hand today, Matty?’ 

‘Hello, Nelson and Murdock, attorneys at law. Karen speaking.’ A woman’s voice chimes, letting out a small chuckle at the suspected madness going on around her.

‘Hi Karen,’ you quickly introduce yourself, ‘I’m the PI from Hastings and co. , we’re defending Mr Spentsworth in Leo Baker’s case. Am I right in thinking that your firm are the ones defending Mr Baker?’

‘Um, y-yeah. Sorry, why are you calling?’ Karen is understandably confused, but you’re not sure that this particular conversation is suited for a phone call.

‘This is going to sound really weird, but would it be possible for me to visit and speak to Mr Nelson and Murdock? It’s really important.’

Karen hesitates before responding, ‘I-uh, sure. Could you be here in half an hour?’

-----

You totally overestimated how long it would take you to get to their office. You had found yourself standing in line for the bakery across the street with fifteen minutes to spare, now armed with an assortment of baked goods as you made your way up the narrow stairs towards the firm. 

As you made your way down the hallway towards the door with a fairly new looking plaque on the front, you readied yourself for the oncoming conversation. 

This should be fairly simple, you thought. I’m on their side.

You barely get the chance to knock before the door swings open, a friendly, slender, blonde woman holding it open as she introduces herself.

‘Hi, come in, come in! I’m Karen, we spoke on the phone.’

You can’t help but smile at her as she excitedly beckons you inside, taking the box of treats from your hand, staring at the scribbles on your hand as she does so.

‘I bought some snacks! Consider it a peace offering. I have no idea how this is going to go.’ you anxiously admit, already feeling relaxed in Karen’s presence. 

She laughs in response, ‘Mr Nelson and Mr Murdock are just in their office at the moment, discussing something or other. They shouldn’t be too much longer.’

The two of you stand awkwardly in the reception area before Karen jolts across the room, gently creeping open the office door. You can’t make out their hushed whispers as they hurriedly end their conversation, Karen turning to face you and gesturing for you to come inside. 

You take a seat opposite the two men, sending them both what you only hoped were warm smiles. You introduce yourself as you look between them. 

‘It’s great to meet you, (y/n). I’m Foggy. Foggy Nelson. This,’ the blonde man gestures to the dark haired, bearded man beside him, a pair of dark tinted glasses balanced on his nose. ‘This is Matt Murdock, my associate. How can we help?’ 

Both men edge in closer to you, almost comically, each arm folded and resting on the desk.

You pause, considering what to say next, how to go about this conversation.

These guys seem okay. Seem reasonable, you think. You bring your hands up to the desk, immediately gaining Foggy’s attention. His eyes are drawn to the faded ink that litters your hand, seemingly trying to…read it?

You peer down at your hand before clutching it with your other, looking up to Foggy in apology.

‘I’m so sorry, it’s just notes from last night - it won’t come off.’ you say, an anxious laugh escaping your lips.

‘No, no. It’s no issue, just looked familiar.’ He utters, gently nudging Matt’s leg from under the table.

‘Oh, yeah. It’s your phone number.’ you laugh. Nervously, you shoot a glance up to Karen who has remained at the edge of the room. She offers a shrug in response before casting her eyes back to Matt.

‘So, anyway.’ Matt starts, sitting up in his chair as he rubs the back of his hand. ‘What is it that you’re here to discuss with us?’

You quickly recollect yourself as you start, ‘Oh shit, yeah. Ralph Spentworth. H-he’s-’

‘Evil.’ Matt cuts you off.

‘Y-yeah, exactly. My boss- his lawyer, Everett Hastings doesn’t want to win the case. Is there anything in particular that we can do that would benefit your defence?’ you ask.

‘Drop the case?’ Foggy retorts, earning a light chuckle from Karen.

‘No, you’re not understanding. Hastings wants this man put away. He needs absolutely zero chance of winning this case.’ You explain, your hands moving as you speak. ‘We’re on your side.’

‘You expect us to believe that the man with the highest paying client I’ve personally ever seen doesn’t want to win?’ Foggy says. ‘He just wants to hand us the case?’

You hold your head in your hands momentarily as you think of how to assure these men that you truly want to work alongside them.

‘Spentworth’s crimes are horrific. No morally sound person would even attempt to defend that man.’

‘So why did Hastings take him on?’ Matt asks, tilting his chin up ever so slightly.

‘My guess? The money. It always looks nice at first glance.’ you shrug. ‘But Hastings has realised his mistake. He can’t go through with it.’

The pair decide to discuss the topic further between themselves, leaving you and Karen in the office. Barely a minute passed before you noticed Karen analysing your hand again, embarrassedly pulling your hand to your chest. 

She looks awkwardly to the floor, shuffling her feet against the carpet. 

‘Sorry, (y/n).’ she laughs, before joining you at the desk. ‘This is so rude, oh my god, I’m sorry. But I have to ask, what does it say on your hand?’ 

Gesturing to your ink smeared hand, she looks up at you expectantly.

‘Oh, um, don’t worry about it.’ you laugh. ‘Leo Baker,’ you read. ‘And then the office’s phone number.’ 

You awkwardly extend your arm to reach Karen, showing her the notes on your hand.

‘Okay, don’t freak out. Matt’s hand- This,’ she points at your hand. ‘This is exactly what is on Matt’s hand.’

‘We clearly have the same way of remembering things!’ you nervously chuckle, trying to ignore the vice-like grip that Karen has on your wrist.

‘Matt doesn’t- Matt can’t read things from his hand. He’s,’ Karen leans in. ‘He’s blind.’ she whispers.

You make a sound of shock as she covers her mouth with her hand.

‘I- Karen! I know! I suppose I, well I guess I didn’t consider how he’d go about writing on his hand - shit. I feel so bad, I’m so sorry.’ you stammer out, desperate for this whole encounter to be over.

Before you can discuss it further, Foggy and Matt make their way back into the room.

‘Okay,’ Foggy starts, slapping his arms against his sides. ‘We wouldn’t usually, y’know, work with the opposition. But this seems justified,’ Foggy side eyes Matt, a smile gracing the brunette’s face.

‘We’ll work something out,’ Matt smiles, returning to his seat at the desk. ‘Foggy has informed me that we have another thing to discuss?’ he questions, causing you to look between Foggy and Karen for a response.

Foggy turns to look at Karen expectedly, to which she nods in return.

‘It would seem,’ Foggy begins, reaching one arm out to your hand and the other to Matt’s, ‘you two are soulmates.’

You turn to Matt in surprise, gazing at his face before moving your eyes down to his hand.

There it is. Unmistakably your handwriting, rushed and scribbled, in the exact same spot as on yours. Faded, but there.

‘Are you sure?’ Matt questions, pulling his hand back in to brush his fingers over it. ‘Maybe it’s just a coincidence?’ 

‘No,’ the three of you respond in unison.

‘That’s definitely my handwriting.’ you mutter, still unable to get past the shock. 

This man, beautifully crafted and delightfully polite, is your soulmate?

You had no idea what could possibly be running through Matt’s head right now.

A tense silence filled the room, Karen and Foggy looking from you and Matt, desperate for something to happen.

The silence continued and it was beginning to affect Foggy. He couldn’t handle the awkwardness.

‘Why don’t we, uh,’ Foggy pauses to think. ‘Let’s go for drinks?’

You turn to Foggy, a puzzled expression dancing across your face.

‘Drinks? It’s not even noon.’

Foggy offers nothing but a laugh in response as he picks up his bag from the floor.

‘Let’s go.’

-----

Maybe drinks weren’t such a bad idea. Sure, you’d mainly stuck by Karen’s side in order to avoid any potential awkwardness but, as a matter of fact, it wasn’t too bad. You were a few shots down before you ended up alone at the booth with Matt.

He held himself with such composure, charm may as well have been oozing from the man. You couldn’t help but admire him, your eyes taking in each and every detail. You were staring, and part of you sensed that he knew it.

‘I can’t believe it. You’re my soulmate!’ you exclaim, earning a chuckle from Matt.

‘I’m your soulmate. Unless this is some elaborate ruse created by the three of you to get me into your bed - I’ve been told I��m quite the catch.’ He cuts himself off, fanning his face with his hand in jest.

‘Oh yes, Mr Murdock. I am here simply to bed you, nothing more.’ you retort, joining him in his laughter.

‘So,’ Matt pauses to recollect himself. ‘How long have you been with Hastings?’

‘Everett?’ you ask in shock, ‘I’m not with Everett, not my type. Too blonde.’ you say, snatching your glass up from the table and taking a mouthful of the watered down remnants of your drink.

‘No, no,’ he laughs. ‘I didn’t mean that, (y/n). How long have you worked for him?’

You rub your forehead in embarrassment as you think back on your career.

‘Three and a half years, ish. It’s not too bad.’ you reply before taking another sip of your drink.

‘How about you? You and Foggy seem like you’ve worked together for years.’

‘Foggy and I went to school together, never really separated since. We haven’t had our own firm for long,’ he pauses, ‘but it’s been long enough to end up in some deep shit.’

‘I hear you,’ you nod. ‘I couldn’t cut it as a lawyer - I think I’d get too attached.’ 

‘How so?’ Matt interjects, turning his entire body to face you. His sudden interest in what you had to say catches you off guard.

‘Oh, well, you know.’ you say. ‘I’ve been told I care too much. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost a case, if I let someone down.’

‘It happens.’ Matt nods. ‘But it gets easier. There aren’t enough lawyers who care.’

You shrug before finishing off your drink. 

‘This rounds on me. What do you fancy?’ you ask, taking Matt’s empty bottle and placing it inside your glass.

‘No, no, don’t worry about it. That’s enough for me.’ he says, motioning to stop with his hands.

‘Can I tempt you with a cola instead then?’ you ask, desperate for an excuse to stay and chat with him.

With some pleading, you manage to convince him, taking your empty glasses over to the bar. As you make your way to the bar, you see Foggy and Karen leaning against a pool table, seemingly deep in conversation.

Karen notices your presence as you walk towards them, waving you over.

‘How’s it going with Matt? We thought we’d leave you two to yourselves for a while.’ she excitedly grabs your shoulder, pulling you in closer.

You turn back to face Matt, his head vaguely looking in your direction as he presumably waits for your return. 

‘I should get back to him.’ you say, gesturing to the man you had abandoned at the booth.

‘Yeah of course.’ Foggy laughs as you turn to the bar, shaking his head at Karen in amusement.

Once you were out of earshot, Foggy and Karen resume their giggly, hushed conversation over the pool table.

‘Two Pepsis! Pepsi is okay,’ you pause, ‘right?’

‘Absolutely.’ Matt laughs.

As you slide yourself back into the booth, your eyes are drawn to your penmanship on Matt’s hand. Slowly, you reach out to touch his hand, to hold it, to inspect it.

‘May I?’ you ask, forgetting that he probably has zero idea as to what you’re asking. ‘Sorry,’ you laugh. ‘May I touch your hand?’

Matt nods in agreement with no hesitation, pushing his arm outwards further into your reach.

Your fingers barely graze his hand before a sharp spark jolts through your entire body. Instinctively, you pull your hand away and stare at Matt with a look of amazement. 

His hand reaches out into thin air in an attempt to find your hand again.

‘That has to mean something.’ you utter (mostly to yourself) as your hand meets his in the middle of the distance between the two of you.

He shakes his head, a soft smile filing his features.

‘I’m almost certain I know what it means, (y/n).’

You look up at his face, realisation dawning on you as you piece it together. That was undeniable evidence that couldn’t possibly be coincidence.

‘We’re soulmates.’

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #daredevil x reader #request #fic requests #soulmate #soulmate au #matt murdock soulmate #matt murdock x reader soulmate

[daydreaming-away-reality]

Catching Stardust

Tadashi Hamada x Reader | ☁️ + ✨ | 3.9k

Most days, like any other university student, you would wake up tired. Unfortunately for you, that was not today. You had spent the entire night working on your lab report for one of your science courses and didn’t get a wink of sleep. At least it was handed in and done with.

(You had to double check - just in case your brain decided to get desperate and help you imagine the best case scenarios. Thinking and doing were two very different things, they were hard to tell apart when you were so dead tired though.)

It was one of those days.

“Morning, Honey Lemon,” you greeted as you navigated your way into the kitchen for some caffeine. Grabbing your travel coffee tumbler, you watched your blonde roommate in her morning stretching routine.

“Good morning, (Y/N)!” Honey cheerfully replied. “How was not sleeping last night?”

You halted your movements, looking up at her with concern. “Can you tell just by looking at me?”

Honey Lemon laughed. “No, silly. GoGo came home late last night and saw you up. I heard you shuffling around earlier this morning too. No raccoon eyes, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Thank goodness,” you said with a sigh as you continued pouring liquid energy into your tumbler. “This bio course is going to be the death of me.”

“You mean working two part time jobs will be the death of you,” GoGo corrected you as she walked out of her room. “Girl, you need time to have fun too.”

You stuck your tongue out at her. Rummaging through backpack, you noticed a missing tome of knowledge. “Has anyone seen my Medical Terms bible?”

“Coffee table.” Honey called out from the living room as she held the tree pose.

GoGo walked over to you with the heavy book in hand. You mouthed a thank you to her before taking a sip of coffee.

“(Y/N), you need to take some time to make some more friends or meet a cute boy,” Honey Lemon brought up. She exchanged a look with GoGo. “We know someone who you might like. He’s nice and funny, good looking as well.”

You gave your two roommates a sad smile. “By the time I’m ready for a relationship, a boy like that will already be snatched up by someone less stressed about their future.”

Grabbing your premade meals and a couple of snacks, you swung your backpack on.

“I work bookstore and pharmacy today, so I’ll see you both tomorrow morning. Good luck with your projects in the meantime.”

“Bye, (Y/N)!” Honey called out.

“Keep the luck, you need it more than we do,” GoGo said with salute.

Walking out of the apartment, you checked your phone for your schedule once more. Class at nine, bookstore at two and pharmacy at six. And it was already eight thirty, yay. Just your typical jam packed day, all so that you could pay off medical school tuition in the future.

Balancing everything in life was... impossible, but you were managing. 

Full course load university student, working two part time jobs, and a very minimal but still existent social life.

It wasn’t easy, but it was what you wanted. Going to med school was a necessary path to take if you wanted to help people out in your future career choice.

Just as you were arriving on campus, a voice caught your attention.

“(Y/N)…!”

You turned to see your friend Mina, another sufferer pre-med student.

“Hi Mina,” you greeted.

“Did you sleep last night?” she asked. When you shook your head, she let out a loud sigh. “Yeah, me too. Dr. Andrews is going to kill us with these lab reports and the test Thursday. I mean, I’d feel smarter if I weren’t so tired all the time.” 

You smiled. What a mood.

“Is my make up, okay?” Mina asked. “I don’t want Justin to see me at my worse - not yet.”

You glanced over Mina’s face. She had gone through the usual effort to make herself look cute. “You look fine and I’m sure Justin wouldn’t be scared off. He knows we’re med students.”

Mina made a face. “We’ve only been a dating for two months, (Y/N), two! He doesn’t know what kind of crazy we are yet. You never know when he might get skittish and ghost me.”

If you weren’t so tired, you would have laughed. 

Linking arms with Mina, you pulled her towards the classroom. 

Today was going to be just another day.

Tadashi checked over the information on his phone as he walked off campus towards the bookstore. He had been looking up information to help his robotics project and a certain book had come up in his recommendations. Deciding that the resource was worth checking out, and was worth the price, he was determined to get his hands on the book while his robot was still in the works.

Walking through the doors, he made his way to the medical section. Browsing the shelves, he kept an eye out for the particular title.

After circling the area for a while, he let out a huff. Where was this textbook?

Noticing a girl wearing a name tag, he approached her with smile.

“Hi, I was wondering if you could help me?”

She turned to him with a smile, (E/C) eyes making contact with his brown orbs.

“Of course, are you looking for something?”

Tadashi nodded, pulling out his phone and showing her the textbook information.

"Ahhh, this one. That’s a popular book with the first year pre-med student courses,” she commented. “Everyone always asks where this one is - we organize this one by title since there’s no author.”

Leading him back into the medical section, the girl stopped in an area of the bookstore that Tadashi had missed earlier. She tapped the spine of one of the books.

“This one is good resource for in depth procedural explanations,” she explained. “Not what you were looking for though...”

Scanning the shelves, the girl paused and frowned when she stopped a particular spot. 

“Is it out of stock?” she murmured, checking again. “For a textbook no one appreciates until third year, I’d be surprised if it’s sold out...” She turned back to Tadashi with an apologetic smile. “I’ll check if we have the book in stock - give me a second.”

Pulling out her phone, she typed up some information quickly. The results of her searching seemed to yield the same results.

“It looks like we’re actually out of stock for this textbook right now, although, we are restocking it,” she explained. “Would you like to request a reserve to get a copy?”

“That would be helpful, sure,” Tadashi agreed. 

“Great, let’s go fill out a form for you,” she chirped, leading him away. “Are you a med student?”

“No, I’m a robotics engineering student at SFIT,” he replied. “I’m working on something related to the medical field though.”

“Really? That’s so cool,” she exclaimed, looking genuinely interested. “It’s amazing to think how technology can incorporated into health sciences. If you don’t mind me asking, what are you working on?”

“A healthcare robot,” Tadashi explained with a fond smile. “It’s still in the works, nothing has been finished yet, I’m still working on the programming stages.”

“I think that’s incredible. I’m sure you’re capable of amazing things.”

The sincerity in her tone brought a smile to his face. For someone who didn’t know much about his project, the kind words from her were very nice.

“What about you?” Tadashi asked. “Are you a student?”

“Yeah, over at Sato Health Institute,” she responded. Sato was the top post secondary institution for health care in San Fransokyo located nearby - it even shared some programs with SFIT as Tadashi recalled. “I’m a pre-med student - if you hadn’t already guessed.”

“I might have had a feeling,” Tadashi said with a grin. “You seemed like you were familiar with things firsthand.”

The girl laughed. “Lots of firsthand experience, trust me.”

Approaching the help desk, the girl popped around to grab a paper and pen. Scrawling down information onto the page first, she then slid the paper over to Tadashi across the counter.

“Just fill out the rest of the form and the textbook should be arriving in the next three days.” 

Tadashi looked up from filling in the form, brown eyes flicking over to her name tag. “Thank you so much, (Y/N).”

“You’re welcome,” she replied. She took a sip from her coffee tumbler. Grabbing a sticky note, she offered it over to Tadashi. “If you’d like, leave your number and I’ll text you when it arrives - I’ll be working that day. I promise to use your number for professional reasons only.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Tadashi said as he wrote his number down. As he finished his form, he noticed a large medical terms textbook behind the counter on the desk next to the computer with a ton of sticky notes sticking out. “Is that yours?”

“That’s my current bible,” she affirmed with an amused tone. “Can’t survive without it.”

The two of them shared a laugh.

“Thanks again for your help.” Tadashi repeated as he returned the form.

“Just doing my job, don’t worry about it! It was great meeting you...” Her (E/C) eyes flickered down to the form and smile appeared on her face. “...Tadashi.”

As Tadashi left the bookstore, part of him was still lingering behind, thinking about (Y/N). She seemed like a nice girl and he really hoped that they might have another chance to encounter her again.

You fumbled with the door before pushing it open, popping back into the dark apartment. Hitting the light switch, you took off your shoes and checked for signs of your roommates.

Looks like Honey Lemon and GoGo were still out.

No surprise.

The three of you were always busy, whether the other two liked to admit it or not. 

Just as you were sorting things out in the kitchen and about to grab a snack, your phone buzzed.

Mina: OMG. Did you see Terry’s SNS profile update? 🤣🤣

(Y/N): What did he do this time? Do I want to know??

Mina: He put MD CANDIDATE. The AUDACITY of this man - I got a C+ working with partner project with him. My poor GPA... 😭

(Y/N): I mean...

Mina: DON’T

(Y/N): Cs get degrees 😂

Mina: RIP me. Seriously though, are you free to study for that bio test? 

(Y/N): let me grab my snack first, I’ll see you video chat

Mina: True MD candidate here

(Y/N): HA 

Letting out a sigh, you swiped a snack from the cupboard before heading back to your room. Fingers crossed you would get some sleep tonight.

“Oh, finally!”

Tadashi wiped his hands off with a rag and turned to look at Fred. Wasabi and GoGo were also looking at the beanie wearing boy, but neither of them decided to engage.

“Something up?” Tadashi asked, speaking up.

“The comic bookstore said they were out of that new series I was telling you guys about the other day,” Fred explained. “I refused to go to Richardson’s place, so apparently, they reached out to the nearby bookstore and they have a copy! I got to go pick it up.”

“The one near campus?”

“Yup.”

Tadashi paused, thinking for a moment before making his decision. 

“I’ll come with you.”

“Let’s go then, man!”

Catching up with Fred about the current condition of Baymax, the two soon arrived at the bookstore. Fred immediately beelined towards the help desk with Tadashi trailing behind him.

Just as Tadashi anticipated, a familiar face was working at the desk. This time though, (Y/N) was fairly concentrated on the stack of flashcards piled on her space next to textbooks filled with sticky notes.

“Uh, excuse me,” Fred said, practically bouncing on his toes.

That was enough to jolt her out of her studying. Shoving away her flashcards, she offered Fred a smile. “Yes?”

“I believe someone called about -”

“Oh! I know what you’re here for,” (Y/N) said, jumping up. She got up and skimmed over the bookshelf behind the counter. “Ah, here it is. Fred, right?”

At the sight of his new comic, Fred nodded happily. He quickly accepted it from you. “Is there a comic book section?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Just straight that way, it’s not a big collection, but you might find something.”

“Alright, thanks!” 

Fred turned to see Tadashi lingering around. “You coming, Tadashi?”

“There’s something I want to check out, I’ll catch up in a bit,” the black haired male responded.

As Fred disappeared, the girl turned her attention over to Tadashi. 

“I didn’t think I would see you again so soon,” she commented. “The book is not in yet, sorry.”

Tadashi smiled. “That’s fine. I see you’re here often.” 

“Yeah, when I’m not busy with classes or my other job, here I am.”

The words piqued your interest. “Other job?”

“I also work at a pharmacy,” (Y/N) explained.

“Ahh. You must be a busy person,” Tadashi said. He tilted his head towards your desk. “Studying too?”

She flushed. “Yeah. Only because today’s pretty quiet - my manager doesn’t mind as long as I’m work as I’m needed. There’s a test coming up.”

“Good luck, I think you need it.”

“I do. Thank you.”

Tadashi watched as (Y/N) moved back to sitting at the desk. As she picked up her flashcards, she looked up at Tadashi.

“How’s the healthcare robot going? Any progress in the last 24 hours?”

“Baymax finally had some supply come in for assembling,” he responded. “So, just a little bit.”

“Baymax?” she repeated confused. “Oh. Is that their name?”

Tadashi nodded.

“Baymax… I like it, sounds friendly.”

“I should probably let you get back to studying,” Tadashi commented, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“Not at all, I’m happy to chat with you.”

- Wednesday. 6PM. -  

Honey: (Y/N)?

(Y/N): What’s up, Honey Lemon?

Honey: I heard the pre-med students plan on throwing a party this weekend? 

Honey: Are you going?

(Y/N): Nah, I think I have work.

GoGo: You always work.

(Y/N): Huh, I never noticed.

(Y/N): Anyways, parties are not my scene. I’d be happy spending a free evening at home instead.

GoGo: Mina says she’ll miss you.

(Y/N): She’ll have Justin, she’ll be okay

Honey: Well, if you ever decide to go, we know a boy you can take with you.

(Y/N): Thanks, but I’ll pass. 🥰

- Thursday. 5PM. -

Unknown: Hi Tadashi. The textbook you wanted finally came in! Feel free to drop by anytime to come pick it up.

Tadashi: Alright, thanks (Y/N)!

Unknown: Yep, no prob!

Tadashi: Hey, is this your personal number?

Unknown: yeah 😊

(Y/N) has been added to contacts.

Tadashi: Hope you don’t mind if I contact you like in the future. 😊

(Y/N): Oh, I wouldn’t mind at all!

“Tadashi, hi,” you greeted, waving as the boy came into your line of sight. With a baseball cap on his head today, you almost mistaken him for someone else. Pulling out the textbook, you handed it over to him. “Here you go! You weren’t the only one trying to get your hands on this textbook today.”

Tadashi peered at you curiously as he accepted the textbook. 

“You look tired,” he pointed out.

You just shrugged with a half smile. “The bio test was today - that was gruesome.”

“At least that’s done with,” he encouraged you. “Week’s almost over, too.”

“Best part is I’m off in five,” you agreed.

 You could see your words caught Tadashi’s interest. 

“Are... are you still working after?” 

Shaking your head, you leaned back against the counter. “Nope, told them I was busy today so no shifts at the pharmacy tonight.”

“Would you like to go out with me then?” Tadashi asked hopefully. “We can hit up a café and grab something to eat?”

Good thing you were leaning against the counter, because the surprise you felt would have toppled you over.

“Oh, um, sure!” you agreed, cheeks heating up a little. “I’ll meet you outside in five?”

“Sounds good.”

- Friday. 9AM. -

Tadashi: I enjoyed my time with you yesterday. 

(Y/N): I enjoyed my time too! Although the cookies there were kind of hard... 😢

Tadashi: Yeah... I find us somewhere with nice cookies next time.

(Y/N): Just a warning, next time might be a while. My schedule is usually full.

Tadashi: That’s fine!! If you ever find yourself with free time, let me know, I’d like to spend it with you.

(Y/N): 🥰

(Y/N): You’re too sweet, Tadashi. 

(Y/N): How are you single??

Tadashi: Haha, I could ask you the same thing. Probably the same reasons as you though. I’m usually too focused with what’s in front of me.

Tadashi: Hope to see you around though.

(Y/N): me too

- Some Tuesday. 8PM. -

“And your total is 18.95,” you said, pressing buttons on the register to confirm the amount. The customer tapped their card for the purchase before taking their bags. “I hope you feel better!”

“Thank you,” the customer responded as they left. 

You waited until they had gone completely before heading back to find your manager. Spotting one of older pharmacy students, you decided to talk to them instead.

“Hi,” you greeted.

“(Y/N), need any drugs?” Harper asked with a smile.

“I’ll take them all,” you joked. “Let Aria know I left if you see her for me?”

“Yeah, go. You’re free,” she ushered, waving you away.

As you pulled on your jacket and stepped out of the pharmacy, a figure caught you by surprise.

“Tadashi!” you exclaimed. 

“Surprised?” he asked. “Thought I’d walk you home, not safe for you to walk the street alone at night.”

“I do it frequent enough,” you countered with a smile.

“Ooh, risk taker,” Tadashi said.

You laughed. “I appreciate this though, thanks.”

Tadashi nodded. As the two of you were catching up each other on what happened throughout the day, you felt Tadashi slip his hand into yours. Fingers intertwined, you could feel your heart racing.

This was something you didn’t want to let go of.

- Some Monday. 2PM. -

GoGo: Yo, Tadashi

GoGo: Fred wants to know when you’ll be back with the snacks.

Tadashi: Just stepped back on campus. 

GoGo: Took you a while.

GoGo: You seeing someone behind our back?

Tadashi: Ha. Does Baymax count?

- A couple weeks later. Friday. 10AM. -

“Someone looks cute today,” Mina commented as you sat down next to her in the lecture hall. She eyed you up and down, nodding approvingly. “Not working today?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “My rare day off besides class. Thought I’d put a little more effort in today.”

“Well, you look adorable,” Mina confirmed. She let out a sigh when she saw the professor walk in. “Let’s see if we can survive these next two hours.”

“Challenge accepted,” you said, bumping her shoulder playfully. “Although, I might lose you halfway.”

Mina gasped and smacked your arm.

You laughed as you pulled your laptop. Although the two hours went by at a decent pace, you were glad the course was three quarters way through. 

At the brutal pace your professor went, there was nothing but review for the few weeks before final exams. It was nice to know you didn’t have to teach yourself an entire unit in a week before your final.

Bidding Mina goodbye, you weaved your way out of the lecture hall and out into campus. At this point, most groups of students you saw hanging around were study groups. You would have been like them too, if you hadn’t worked so hard to make things work.

Balancing two part time jobs along with classes had you putting in so much extra effort that it usually paid off in the long run.

Yay.

Navigating your way through the streets with the GPS app open on your phone, you soon spotted the campus you were looking for.

SFIT.

(Abbreviated, because thinking through what each letter stood for was too much effort.)

Slowly wandering around as you pulled up the campus directory, your eyes glimmered when you spotted the building you were looking for. Popping inside, you clutched onto your bag, peering around curiously. There was so much science happening in this space. 

Lots of creativity too, you wondered why their tradition was to prank the art school.

Poking around, you soon realized you were lost among the many rooms and labs. Your mission was a failure. Pouting, you pulled your phone.

(Y/N): Help me, I’m lost.

Tadashi: What do you mean?

(Y/N): I wandered into the lab building and was going to surprise you with a visit, but I don’t know where to find you. 🙁

(Y/N): I didn’t think this through...

Tadashi: Awwww

Tadashi: What room number do you see? I’ll find you.

(Y/N): Lab 2B

Tadashi: omw

As you awkwardly waited for Tadashi to show up, you tried not to look suspicious. Although admittedly, you were sure you looked suspicious regardless since you were lost.

“There you are,” the soft yet deep voice greeted from behind you.

Turning around to see Tadashi, you smiled. 

“Sorry for the trouble,” you apologized. 

“Not at all.” Tadashi shook his head. He took a moment to take you in. Within his eyes, you were absolutely beautiful. He didn’t want to mess up, so he kept it to himself. He’d voice his thoughts one day. “Welcome to Nerd Lab, by the way.”

So this was where Tadashi, your roommates, and their friends all spent their long hours working.

Tadashi took your hand. “Come on, I want to show you my lab.”

Following after Tadashi, the two of you entered the elevator behind arriving on the floor of his personal lab space. He opened a door, showing you his tidy space.

“Baymax won’t be in the works for a while, but here,” he pulled out several large blueprints. The image of an almost plush like character was found in the middle. “This is going to be Baymax.”

In awe of all the labelled details and planning in place, you looked up at Tadashi.

“This is incredible,” you breathed out. “You’re incredible too.”

Tadashi dipped his head down and captured your lips for a kiss. 

Before he had the opportunity to pull back too far, you went in and gave him a quick peck as well.

Although the two of you were flushed, the loving gaze you could see in Tadashi’s eyes made you feel hopeful about this relationship.

“Can I see the medical programming?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Tadashi shyly nodded. “All the computer.” 

- Later. -

(Y/N): Do you think we should let our friends know?

Tadashi: Nah, they’ll catch on eventually.

(Y/N): But if they don’t should I just accept their blind date request?

Tadashi: WHAT?

(Y/N): 😂

(Y/N): I asked for more details one time.

(Y/N): He’s this handsome robotics engineering student, who nice and has a good sense of humor. Apparently he’s very dedicated to his work too.

Tadashi: …

Tadashi: They’ve tried to set me up with their friend as well. 

(Y/N): Hmm, maybe we were meant to be after all

Tadashi: I think so. 😀

(Y/N): 😘

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