#he’s not against women getting jobs he’s upset HE can’t provide for her.

[you-can-be-what-you-want-to-be]

How does everyone say Bj is gay when his entire personality is wife guy. There were two episodes where he almost cheated on her with other women, stopped himself, and felt weird and shitty about it. That’s not the behavior of someone not attracted to women. I’m not saying he can’t like guys, but hes def into ladies. It can even not contradict canon bc again, wife guy. You can be bi and not cheat on your wife. Or you can write fics where he does I’m not your mom. But he isn’t gay.

[hobidreams]

june 1869.

you’ve never been able to hide from him.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst, fluff? words: 2.3k contains: choices, consequences.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 21. start from the beginning?

The moment you reach your private chambers, you collapse against the door. Your heart softly shudders with strain as you finally let the first tears fall, trickling steadily down your cheeks. The bundles you carried in fall to the floor as you cover your face with your cold hands, trying to stifle the quiet sobs that seem so determined to come.

You had gone into town after your work today. Walked down, escorted by a guard that you pretended wasn’t there. (The king now insisted upon such a thing whenever you left the palace walls, but you could tell the guard thought the job much beneath him.) You had just finished picking up a few ingredients from the market traders and was on your way to see if the bookstore had received new products when your attention had been caught by the sizeable crowd gathered outside the town clinic.

“Please, please, give me medicine for my daughter!” The peasant woman clutched a child that couldn’t have been more than two years old. The babe’s crying was as raucous as the yelling, the noisy mix of voices all clamoring with want.

“I need to see someone! My side— It hurts every day. I can’t work anymore. My family’s going to starve. I need treatment!”

The physician’s assistant stood on the clinic steps with folded arms and a bitter, hard look on his face. “Are we running a charity? We need to eat too! If you can’t pay, you can’t see the doctor!” He slammed the door in their faces, leaving them out in the sweltering heat, crying out that they could pay next week or as soon as they could, they just needed help right now, but the door remained shut.

Your chest felt stiflingly tight at the sight, compassion’s hand squeezing hard around your heart because you knew you could help. You had to help. You took a step forward, ready to offer your services only to have the guard block your way.

“Su-uinyeo-nim. We must return to the palace.”

“No, I want to stay.”

He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. They could harm you.” And if they did, then his own head would likely be on the chopping block. Ridiculous.

“They won’t. They just need treatment, and I’m a physician.” You didn’t have many of your tools here but you could at least take a look, provide a diagnosis or recommend some easily obtainable herbs.

“The king would not approve of putting yourself in danger.”

You opened your mouth only to shut it. The king wouldn’t approve of a lot of things, but how could you just stand here and do nothing? These people, they needed your skills.

You took another step forward.

“Su-uinyeo-nim.” The guard’s voice was firm. He indicated for you to start walking away, towards home.

You shot him a stare, the hardest look you could conjure, but didn’t move. Not yet, damn it.

“Oh—uinyeo-nim!”

You dallied long enough. One of the women had evidently recognized your outfit and was now barreling towards you with a fire in her eyes. “Uinyeo-nim, you can help me, right!? It’s my daughter, she’s been having a fever and—”

“No, she cannot.” The guard’s glare was as sharp as the blade that the hand on his sword promised.

“Oh, please!” She threw herself against the arm the guard tried to reign her in with. Threw herself forward trying to reach you. “My daughter, my daughter will die if she’s not treated!”

“Let me—” You started, only for the guard to shove her harshly back since he could not do the same to you. She cried out, almost toppling over from the force as she clutched her baby, but he did not relent.

“We are leaving.”

He began to boldly walk towards you, practically into you, leaving you no choice in the matter. You were too afraid he might hurt her further if you did not comply even though every step away felt like a blow to your chest, like tiny fists pounding against your ribcage, making you sore and ache because the stark truth was that your inability to help her wasn’t even entirely the guard’s fault.

All those years ago, you chose to stay.

You never opened the affordable clinic mother had dreamed of. You put your feelings before the wellbeing of all those people you could have helped then, and you did it again today. Selfish. Selfish and helpless and selfish. For all the work you’ve done, it never feels like enough. There are always more patients in need and here you are, living among this extravagance and opulence but really getting nowhere. Not with the king. Not with how much change you can bring to the people.

Even your tears can only be shed here, in privacy and cowardice.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you whisper through your blurry vision, but these are just words. They do nothing in the end and every choice feels like the wrong one and that there will only be dire consequences to follow them.

“Su-uinyeo-nim?”

At Eunuch Kim’s muted voice, you startle. Hurriedly, you wipe the backs of your hands against your eyes. “Y-Yes?”

“The king has requested your company tonight.”

“Oh.” Shit. You’re in no state to face him, not for what he has in mind, but you must go. “I-I’ll be ready in a few minutes. Just allow me to… change.” You push to your feet, onto shaky legs as you sniff.

“Of course.”

The brief walk over in the cool summer evening helps to pull some of the sorrow from your mind (or at least tucks it away to be revisited later when you find yourself as always, alone). Eunuch Kim is kind enough not to probe into the heaviness about you today; he simply chats about the latest novel he has picked up in town, a study of birds that he recommends heartily to you. The king is not so kind. The second you enter his chambers, tilt your head just enough for him to catch your eye, he frowns.

“You’ve been crying.”

It’s not a question.

“I, um, simply had some dust in my eyes, jeonha.”

Searching for a distraction, you begin to undo the tie of your blouse. You’ve never purposefully let him see you openly upset, or at least not since this ‘arrangement’ began.

“Dust. Really.”

You nod, unwilling to meet his stare.

The floorboard creaks as he steps towards you. Covers your hands with his own so he can strip you instead. You can’t tell if he believes you; he is so quiet while he pulls layer after layer from you, letting the fabric drop to the floor in bunches of crumpled white and light blue. The warmth of his fingers on your skin feels like comfort, even when it’s only a prelude to his desire.

Isn’t it stupid, that some excessive part of you wants him to openly refute your lies even as you tell them? To undress your mind as hungrily he does your body until you have no choice but to be bared and free, released from the burden of your own thoughts?

“Get on the bed.”

Maybe it’s better like this. You are the only woman he has ever known in this way; you can’t let yourself be so greedy, to again let that selfish part of you want and want and want so much that appetite consumes you, bones and all. You press your palms and knees to the hard bedding. Squeeze your eyes together. Force the tears to stay back while you wait for the burn to come.

His calloused hands land on your waist, but it’s to urge you to turn over instead.

“J-Jeonha?” you question, confused when you see him already on his knees, that piercing gaze provoking goosebumps from your skin. “Why…”

His hands find your ass, urging you towards the edge of the bed. He throws the top layer of his robes aside before he spreads your legs apart, letting them rest against the wood.

What… What is he doing? You find your answer as the sokgot strips fall to the floor beneath his touch and abruptly, before your poor heart has time to prepare itself, his breath blows warm across your clit.

“Ah, this—!” Wild-eyed, you try to squirm back, hot with embarrassment that his face is this close to your crotch. It floods you with worry after worry about your scent, the possible bumps marring your skin, the tufts of hair, but he doesn’t seem to care about any of it as he hooks his hands beneath your thighs. “You’re not—”

Soft lips and a slick tongue are pressed flush against you.

Your entire body seems to quiver at the first lick; a single taste of wetness followed by a second, a third, a relentless fourth that makes liquid pleasure crest, surging upwards, a high, rushing tide in mere seconds. You buck, hands finding no support upon the sheets and part of you wants to cover your face instead, to let die the moans that surface with each gasp but that means you would miss the sight. This unforgettable sight: inky eyes between your thighs, the quick, pink tip of his tongue swiping heat directly into your veins. It feels messy before he finds his rhythm, settles into a beat that only reaffirms how he is irrefutably dominant even while he is on his knees before you, for once not breaking you apart but making you feel so dizzyingly whole you could burst.

While his fingers have learned almost every inch of you, this remains a scenario you never even thought to entertain, never even thought he would want. His pleasing only you. His putting you at the forefront of even his own satisfaction. Stop. The grip on your thigh tightens; you never want him to let go. Stop giving me hope. He does anyway with a drawn out suck, his stare as hazy and heady as if he’s been drinking the most exquisite cheongju.

Your body is taut, sweat beading down your spine. “This is— I can’t—”

“You can,” he quips back, and whatever words you could have said are stolen by orgasm. Taken, and made unbecoming moans that blow past the last shreds of your resistance now resting between his teeth.

It overwhelms you, this newfound sensitivity from being consumed; it makes you want to shirk back but he doesn’t let you. Somehow one of your legs finds its way over his shoulder and he uses that momentum to keep you against his stunning mouth, giving you what you need but never what you want. Each lick nudges you further off the edge, finding an acute bliss past every limitation you thought you had and you think, feverishly you think — it’s like he’s giving you permission to fall apart.

Tears coalesce at the corner of your eyes but you don’t notice. You don’t even know they’re there until wetness trails down your cheeks and even then you’re distracted by another peak, this one a muted swell that makes your muscles tense around his thin frame; he supports your weight without a word of complaint as his strokes finally dwindle in time with your pulses until both drop off entirely.

As he lets your leg roll off his arm, his breaths come almost as unsteadily as yours. Slowly, he retracts his wide hands from your thighs. Rolling his tongue against the inside of his own cheek, you watch him paint your taste in his mouth and don’t know what to make of any of it.

It’s only when a few tears cling to your eyelashes and blur your vision that you realize what’s happening. How embarrassing. You told yourself you wouldn’t do this on the way here and look at you now. You’re about to reach up to wipe away the tears, the damning evidence of your weakness when the king wraps his hands tight around your wrists. Pushes you back. Presses his knees to the bed as he hovers above you, all silence and heat and him.

“Um, j-jeon—”

He leans down and cuts you off with a kiss.

You gasp into his mouth but he doesn’t pull away. He is just soft, persistent, firm, and soft as he moves naturally across territory that should have been unfamiliar, but instead it feels like he’s been mapping, planning this capture for as long as you have. An impossible dream, yes, but the warm breath ghosting across your skin, lingering, is real. You open for him. For your first kiss. Your first kiss with him.

The warm fingers at your wrist squeeze harder.

“You… You can cry.” His voice is a murmur, delicate and hesitant against your lips, as if imparting a secret. “If you want.”

So you do.

You finally let yourself cry while he kisses you again and again, adjusting his angle to push you further into the pillows, releasing a wrist to cup your wet cheek. He kisses you with his nose pressed to yours, a tiny, precious moan finding freedom from someone’s throat.

Yoongi, your mind recalls, clinging to the syllables that belong to a word you’ve never dared to say aloud as he kisses you, kisses you, kisses you until both your mouths are swollen and your chest feels a bit lighter, his a bit heavier in exchange.

And when he finally pulls away, he holds you. His arms accept all your gravity for just a few lingering minutes more, a few heartbeats more, until it’s time for you to go.

[kthynes]

the caller you have reached (chris evans x reader)

pairing: chris evans x fem!reader

summary: chris was trying to drunkenly call the woman he loved and wanted to get back with but instead he reaches you, a shrink.

warning: swearing (sailor level), brief mentions of mental health

**IMPORTANT disclaimer: I won't be dabbling into the hard hitting topics of mental health in this short only because I'm not a certified health professional and so I can't be providing a written, unbiased, often characterized diagnosis towards any sort of mental health disorder because really, those types of sensitivities need proper care and output. With that being said, I do want to emphasize the notions of seeking help and not being afraid to seek help when needed. It's hard, but we all fight a battle and no battle is big or small or better or worse.

If my followers or readers do feel the need to privately chat with me, I'm here and I can you lend you an ear. Otherwise let's be kind and uplift another while we can. No harm in doing good and being better, that's for sure!

-end rant-

This short is dedicated to the following lovelies:

@princess-evans-addict

@mrs-djokovic

@slut-for-chris-evans

@saltyflowermakertaco

@bitchyslut99

@patzammit

@itskikiyooo

@maximeevansblog

Being a working adult is dreadful but the work you do is the most fulfilling kind of anarchy. You are a therapist, you work to heal and you work together with people who willingly reach out to you and your facility of care. There is that balance, the altering nuances in between that allows you to do what you do best. You advocate for good prosperity of mental health and accolade of teachable moments that fosters a safe space for your clients, not patients, but the people who deserve to be heard and not be medically categorized.

Your salubrious passion keeps you grounded. In your lifetime, you've seen the imperial impacts of poor mental health and it has been a detrimental drive in how you retreat and give back to a small found community.

"Okay." You exhale to yourself while leafing through another client chart. You're working off the clock, stuck in the renaissance of your homey office space while the outside world turns pitch black.

In the appropriate fields you jot down important takeaways from your last sit in session with heavy concertation and reasoning, you try to congregate a treatment plan all before you cellphone cries for you in venturous fashion.

"Hello?" You answer without checking the caller ID, tucking the device between your ear and shoulder so that way you could work and talk.

"Jenny!" The man boisterously shouts. "Jenny baby please talk to me! Let me make it up to you, let's just do this right, please. I'm fucked up here."

"I'm sorry but you have the wrong number." You infringe sounding like the posh, automated answering machine lady.

"Oh what the fuck Jenny — oh cah'mon don't do that, don't be like that baby." You re-verify a local number and it doesn't belong to anyone you know of. So you wonder who this man is but choose not to press further instead you tell him what is right from the knowing wrong.

"I'm not Jenny."

"Seriously?" He yells, forcing you to hold the phone away from your ear. "That can't be... This is—" He recites the number that is similar to yours but the last two digits are off.

"You got 42, not 53." It's an easy mistake to recall, a swipe of a drunken thumb could've mixed that up, so this time around, you're forgiving. Not that it happens often.

"Oh no. That's—" The mystery man trails, something about his voice discerns you, it's familiar but in a hindbrain way that you can't put a finger on. "Fuuuuuuuck."

"Wait hold on, hold up, is this Jenny's assistant, Nina?" You exhale sharply sometimes it takes more than one try and a side of convincing to get your point across and your passiveness was certainly to blame.

"No I'm not her assistant either."

"Then who the hell are you?" He exasperates. You make the snide mistake of telling him your name and he buffers for a bit.

"Oh. So you really aren't anyone of my concern then?"

"No." You mildly retort. "I wouldn't want to be anyways."

"Okay well I'm not sorry then because I'm here trying to reach my girlfriend and I can't get to her because I have you on the line being a smartass." With that accent of his you can tell he's a patriotic Bostonian. One of your own kind and that furloughs your need to engage in this mindless drivel, it wouldn't get you or him anywhere. At least that's what you tell yourself before shutting him down.

"Well then maybe you should learn to listen first, how about that?" You snap, dropping your pen before you note down angry nonsense into your actual work.

"Hey nowwww!" He yells as if he's trying to be Hank Kinsley.

"It's clear that you're drunk."

He brushes you off on the other end, enigmatic in what he wants you to know. "This is Chris Evans, you're talking to Chris-motherfucking-Evans, you hear?"

"I do now." You say tersely.

"Good." He huffs. "Good... Cause you know I'm in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and this is what I get. This is what I seemingly deserve, god you women I swear..."

Your face changes. You don't agree to be a lending ear but somehow Chris forces you to hear him out.

"I told her Y/N. I TOLD her that I wasn't ready to take the next step but that doesn't mean that I don't want to be with her. And now she throws it back in my face by getting with some other guy she once dated back in high school. And somehow, I'm supposed to be ok with it and move on, as she tells me. How the hell am I supposed to do that, huh?"

"I, um, I don't know what to tell you." You sigh somberly.

"Of course you don't!" His Boston twang begins to nerve you as there some remitting frequency of it. Hearing him obnoxiously go off, reminds you of all your shrewd New England exes who were his exact counterpart when soused. A ludicrous memory that you relive again with time and perfect harmony.

"Listen lady all I'm saying is that I fucked up. I know I did alright? I mean it doesn't take much denominational math and the plot of Lost in Translation to get that. I get it!"

Jesus. You whisper the lords name in vain as you lean your forehead against the palm of your hand while your elbow rested on top of the desk.

"So, let me get this straight, you think yelling at a random woman will help get further?" You question a little acutely for his liking.

"I don't know but it sure as hell takes off the heat, sweetheart." Something about a man calling you sweetheart grinds your gears and now your molars.

"Okay, alright, let's talk." You begin, sitting up a bit and tearing out a blank page from your memo pad; you were doing a late night consultation, a small hash out.

"Schuwaaaaa." Chris enunciates the word sure and to much of his mayhem, he’s sprawled out on the curbside, somewhere in the nowhere land of L.A. He contented but also upset and you were simply crashing his little pity party.

"What is it that you want from Jenny?" You professionally prod. "How about we start there."

"Wooooah, what is that we're doing here?” Chris gets mildly defensive with you. “I dunno you like that. If we're gonna talk then you'll have to get through my publicist first because right now I plead the fifth.”

You exhale a deep and fulsome breath. No one troubles you like him. It's sanctimoniously unnerving.

"I'm a shrink, my job isn’t meant to incriminate my clients well-being, or anyone else’s for that matter.” You address calmly. “So, if you do require some solicited advice then we can keep this call under strict confidence. You have my word, Mr. Evans and the paperwork that will follow shortly after this call.”

Silence. There is some shocking silence which is brief before you're catapulted with disbelief and more cackles. "Holy mother fucking shit. You're kidding me?"

"I can run you by my credentials if you’d like?” You mention stiffly.

"God I’ve reached a cuckoo hotline!" Wrong. That's a horrible thing to say and you'd think a man like him would've been more sensitive about his choice of words, inebriated or not.

"Far from it."

"Tell me something, alright? How many grown, adult men come crying to you?" Chris is edging with curiosity even though his eyes are betrayingly reddened after crying into a bottle of Dewars 18. He doesn't make that known to you and you never cared to ask.

"Enough to know that they cry." You simply state.

"Huh. So this is just another Tuesday for you then.” Chris scoff, the bottle making it to his lips and then swishing back down again.

"Comes with the territory except I don't tolerate drunkenness." You motely add. "Can you keep the bottle aside for the time being? Just until we're done here."

"That's understandable and oh yeah sure, sure, I won't touch it." You can hear the glass bottle 'clink' when coming into contact with the pavement.

"Now tell me about Jenny." You softly inquire.

"What do you wanna know? How we fuck or how we met?" Chris giggles like a naughty school yard boy.

"How did you two meet?" You slam the words urgently, nearly spelling out the cause.

"Oh! Oh. We met on the job." Chris chuckles punitively.

"Okay and did you guys connect instantly or was there a slow build up?" You involuntarily took notes for any PR rep of his that wanted solid evidence that would preside this call, cover your bases and your poor ass along with it.

"Instantly. Our chemistry read was off the charts." He explains with a slight hiccup. "Sorry."

"Great. So it was more so a work relationship that later grew into something more correct?"

"Pretty much."

"So when did you start developing feelings for her?"

"Um I'd say..." Chris tucks his chin, burps and then excuses himself before continuing. "Just before we wrapped up filming. But then I think somewhere in between all that I realized that she was my kind of girl, my... better half."

"And what made you come to that realization?"

"Well for one she has this infectious laugh that would have you laughing with her, there's that sound of beauty and pureness to it. And then with that, there were all the little things she'd do for me that made me think, like damn she's the one, she's it for me and that for better or for worse, I'd need her more than she'd ever need me."

Chris gets sad and you feel for him. Your pen stops moving when you were about to prescribe him some mind memory exercises. He was human. Humans hurt. Humans make mistakes. Humans stray but they also love. That's all Chris did. He loved with all of his heart to not expect the same love in return.

"You know Chris, we don't always get the love we deserve and sometimes its sucks. Sometimes you wanna kick it back with a bottle of Dewars 18 and shake your fists in the air." Chris quietly perks up at your choice of alcohol that you didn't know he was forcefully downing. He fashions a small half smile that you don't see but hear faintly. "But there's also a time and a place and things happen, people come apart, people get together, people do people and there's that fine line of letting life run its uneven course."

"I mean you sometimes have to not be okay to be okay again and I know that from my many years of helpful healing. It gets okay, never fully better and I think that's just how it is. You acknowledge your pain, your trauma and then you go on while being mindful of that transition."

"Wow."

"Hey, um, look, I actually have to get going. But if you can, just down the rest of that bottle and get yourself home."

"Are you sure?" Chris gawks.

"I mean you were already halfway through and it's not like I can physically stop you, right? And besides this is what I'm prescribing to you. I want you to acknowledge your pain, drink away your sorrows and then smash that bottle so you can be relieved from that trauma and hurt. After that you need to fix up and start new, have a mature conversation with her, if you can and then have your feet hitting the ground again. Don't fall into the routine of heartbreak even if it becomes too hard, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear."

"Good." You sniff and start to put things away. "I know you're a good guy Chris, from how you are on TV and in interviews, I'm amazed by how articulate you are. You have the right mindset so I have no doubts that you'll fall back in any way. But if you do, please don't hesitate to reach out, I might have to hand you off to another cohort but nonetheless it can be worked out even if it does feel like you might be sparring on your own. You'll get the help you need."

"Great, thanks." Chris responds in his conscious state of thought. He feels pathetic with himself and that doesn't have you galling over the fact, instead you let him be.

"Do you need me to order you an Uber? Cab? Call a friend for ya?" You laugh easily and Chris hears it clearly, smiling in return.

"An Uber would be nice. I'll try to share you my location."

"Sure, on me and that'd be great."

"Thanks."

"No problem... And your ride should be here in two minutes, just look out for Raul in black Elantra." You inform him after checking your phone.

"Nice."

"You have a goodnight now Chris."

"You too." The line cuts and you're given a piece of your life back. You gather your belongings, flip off the light switch and make your way home. There's some truth and some brokenness in every situation. You knew Chris was going to be OK even if he didn't consult you afterwards. For you, there was no need. He's a smart man and he proves this over a prolonged period of time when he finally finds himself back on the market and then eventually in a relationship with a faceless and very loving woman from his own hometown.

He was finally happy, making you serendipitously glad that you were the caller he had reached.

[inknopewetrust]

Hey, I was wondering if i could request either javier peña or din djarin ship/x reader oneshot type thing? Mostly just (one of) them comforting reader who has really low confidence and doesn't believe they are good at anything. x x

Little Miss Perfect

Pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

Word Count:1.3k 

Warnings: language. Don’t doubt your abilities loves–you are more than capable of doing anything you set your mind to. 

A/N: thanks for the request Anon! Sorry for the long wait, these things just take a bit of time! Ah, how I missed writing for Javi. Did you know Javi was the first character that mustered up a following for me on here? Now, nearly 1000 followers later, here I am still writing for him. I felt this request would work best with him :)

“Shit!” 

It was either the loud yell or the slamming of the telephone that caught Javi’s attention, he wasn’t sure which had come first. At the desk across from him, Steve sat disengaged from your internal struggles that were beginning to bleed out into the small office you all shared and diagonal from him, you had your head being cradled by your hands in frustration. 

Javier kicked Steve’s shin from under the desk and with an audible “ow,” Steve gave Javier a look of disdain. The thumb pointed in your direction changed his demeanor from one of annoyance to one of concern. 

“You alright, L/n?” Steve set down the report he had been reading to focus his attention onto you, but you didn’t look him in the eyes to answer, just mumbled a barely heard: 

“No.” 

He didn’t push any further, but it had to have been something serious to have you react in a way that made Javier concerned. If there was anything to know about you, it was that everything you ever did–whether it be work, play, or what not, you always put in 100% effort. When the reactions to your work were less than spectacular, a depression-like slump followed because it wasn’t what you were hoping for. You strived to have your superiors and partners know that you were the best person for the job and when you failed on occasion, it stung like a sting from a hornet. 

“No... No, I’m not alright. I’m not fucking alright!” The burst came out of nowhere and startled the two men. It got even worse when you rose from the seat and practically ran out of the office with your jacket, the chair spinning rapidly in your wake. 

“What the fuck was that about!?” Steve asked Javier with an exasperated gaze, but Javier didn’t know the answer. He thought he could deduce the reaction to the problem, except he was never certain in his abilities to read your physical reactions. Neither man readied themselves to follow immediately. Though after a few minutes, it was Javier who made the effort to find you and get to the bottom of your obvious despair. 

Not in the courtyard and not in the smoking room. There was no sign of you in the file room, printing room, with the CIA guys and gals, or with Noonan. Based on Noonan’s dismissal of Javier, Javi was sure the conversation that was had between the two of you is what made you so upset. 

It wasn’t until he got down to the bottom floor and into storage that he smelt the distinct smell of camel cigarettes filled his senses and he followed it down the dimly lit aisles of boxes filled with completed files. Down the one labeled G-J, you were sat against the rack with a few burnt cigarettes on the ground. Javier’s footsteps were not quiet, so you knew he was there when he turned down the aisle. 

“Come to gloat for Carrillo? He fucked us all over.” 

“It’s not your fault we didn’t catch him alive.” Javi told you and sat down across from you. One of his legs bent up towards his body and the other stretched out just enough where it rested itself on the other side of your foot. You handed the cigarette out to him which he gladly took from you. 

“It’s always on my account. Noonan always thinks it’s my fault and I just can’t convince anyone that I’m good at this. Every time we get close to catching one of them, they die or go MIA or I don’t know... fly off to Mars.” 

“Mars? Shooting a little high there, don’t you think?” The smirk on his face was welcoming but you were still angry at that fact that everything you did was never good enough for the DEA. 

“Why don’t they get angry at you and Steve? Why is it always me?” 

“You think you’re the only person who gets chewed out around here?” You shrugged at him but the foot that had been resting beside yours tapped it harshly. You looked at Javi with a helpless face. 

“Noonan isn’t a field agent. She doesn’t understand why Carrillo made the call, but he shouldn’t have. That was your member to catch.” 

“And it’s my fault that he’s dead!?” 

“I didn’t say that.” Javier handed the cigarette back to you and you took a long, much needed drag before restarting the conversation. 

“Sorry. I don’t mean to be ridiculous about it.” 

“You’re not being ridiculous. Not many women would have the gall to even take up a field job here and let alone be good at it. Noonan’s position was handed to her... she doesn’t know what we’re dealing with out there.” 

“But it doesn’t mean that she isn’t right. Every time I got a lead something would happen to change the course. That isn’t what they look for in agents so what is keeping me here? Optics?” 

Javier shook his head and furrowed his brows. Since the moment you stepped off the plane in Colombia, you’ve been nothing but a valuable asset to their efforts in catching Escobar. Every piece of information that you provided was essential and that is why they had put you on Gustavo Gaviria’s case in the first place. If it weren’t for Carrillo, you would have had him in American handcuffs right now but operations weren’t easy when five different departments of justice are fighting the same fight. You were a brilliant co-worker, a great person, and more than capable to be here working with him and Steve. 

“Don’t say that...you are one of the best agents we have.” 

“Not everyone thinks that way, Javi.” 

“Well I do, and I know Steve does too. Plus, the CIA guys and the girls that work in the office, they know how hard you work. AND! I’ve never seen a woman kick as much ass as you do when we go out on the field. Anyone who doubts a woman who has no qualms about holding a gun to your head should be terrified in their assumption.” 

You scoffed but it was enough to draw a little smile at the corner of your mouth so Javier knew he was getting somewhere. He was cracking the façade even if some of those thoughts would return from time to time. It wasn’t often agents were praised for their good work, so he took the chance to do it for you in a moment of need. 

“Do you remember the night we had to survey the bar where there was that shootout?” You nodded in remembrance and he continued with a story that you could have predicted. 

“You were the only one to think of-” 

“I know, I know.” you shrugged off the surging compliment of a good days work but Javier shook his head and laughed. It was a laugh of sheer lack of understanding as to why you wouldn’t want to hear compliments. 

“You deserve to be recognized for your work. Noonan might not see it but we all do here. Here is where it matters and on the field and when you go home at night and see the positive impacts on the news. When this is all over and you return to the States, wherever you end up, those people are always going to remember you for the good deeds you’ve done here.” 

“You’re a good man, Javi. You know that right?” 

There was a shared, true smile between the two of you in that moment. 

“I think some people would disagree but if you say so, then I’ll think it.” 

“I’ll remember that mantra the next time I don’t think I belong here.” 

With that, Javier helped pick up the burnt nubs of cigarettes from the floor and together you returned to the office where you would help make a difference and remember that the two people who matter most to your job thought of you as essential to the process. For that, you would be forever thankful for. 

[iamdeku]

Civilian: Prohero!Deku x Reader

I know, revolutionary, a fic that I didn’t name after a song. I did have to stop myself from naming it after Dress by Taylor Swift though because that song sort of fits this story PERFECTLY. Anyway, this was a request from the lovely @thetruthunspoken, and for some reason Tumblr won’t let me post their submission on desktop but this is inspired by a TikTok from Deku cosplayer @/fourmonthsold. It should be right above this post on my blog!

Warnings: None. Reader flirts with Hawks who is like, 7 years older I guess??? Everybody is an adult though.

You loved being Izuku’s friend-date to things. It had started out as a fun thing when you were kids. You had both complained about how nobody would want to invite you to school dances and had come to the conclusion that it was better to just go together. You had suggested it, since Izuku was too shy to ask any of the 1-A girls at the time and you weren’t getting asked by any of the gen-ed guys. No pressure to get a date if you were just going with your best friend.

Over the years though, the reasons had changed and so had the parties. Now you appeared with #1 hero Deku to keep the thirsty girls off his back, and the parties were far bigger and more lavish. Not that you were complaining, since Deku provided your wardrobe. There was really only one downside.

You had made the fatal mistake of falling in love with your best friend, and he wouldn’t even be seen with you in front of paparazzi. You were a great buffer for all of the women who had noticed how handsome he was, but that was all you were to him anymore. Part of you wanted to scream that you had seen him first, had noticed how perfect he was long before all the muscles and heroic stunts, but you knew that would be pointless. You had missed your chance a long time ago, if you had ever had one.

Even so, tonight you had pulled out all the stops. Usually, Izuku had some kind of request for the dress depending on the event, but this time he had just thrown some money at you and told you to go at it, and go at it you did. Your long red dress was backless, a slit up the side racing up to your hip to show off your legs. Even if he wasn’t going to appreciate it you might find another hero to get with. You heard the winged hero, Hawks, was going to be here tonight and he was notoriously popular with the ladies. Maybe out of your league, but not in this dress.

When Izuku picked you up, you saw his eyes go wide.

“Wow…you look great. I mean, you always do of course, but this is something special. Did I miss something?”

You laughed a little bit.

“Nope. Just felt like dressing up.” You shrugged.

Izuku didn’t ask any more questions, despite being suspiciously quiet on the way to the party. When you got there you scanned the room, trying to see if the rumors were true. Sure enough, Hawks was over by the bar.

“I’m going to go get a drink,” you told Izuku, eyes never leaving your target.

You leaned your elbows against the bar, conveniently near the pro-hero you had your eye on. You ordered a drink for yourself, knowing Izuku probably wouldn’t want anything this early in the night. It always took him a minute to loosen up.

“Now what’s a beautiful young lady like you doing here all alone?”

You smirked to yourself before turning and resting your hip against the bar.

“Just doing some bird watching.” You shrugged.

“Is that so? Aren’t I a little old for you?”

You leaned in teasingly. “If you were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. Don’t worry. I’m a big girl.”

“I can see that. You know, if you’re not busy later-”

“She is.” A familiar voice spoke as an even more familiar, scarred hand wrapped possessively around your waist.

“Oh, Deku, this one is yours? That makes sense. I thought I’d seen her around before. Your…best friend, right?”

“That’s me.” You kept your confident smile in place, despite the racing of your heart at Izuku’s warm touch.

“So, you guys aren’t an item?” Hawks verified.

“Nope. Never have been.” You didn’t have the heart to say you never would be.

“So why come to these?” Hawks seemed genuinely curious.

“The dresses. He buys me a new one every time he wants something. It’s almost a shame we aren’t a couple. I’d probably own more of these gorgeous dresses.” You sighed theatrically, looking back at Izuku. “If only you were mine.”

Izuku frowned slightly but seemed to shake off whatever was upsetting him with an easy smile.

“Baby, I’m a hero. I can’t be your boyfriend.”

You felt a spark of annoyance at this newest excuse. I mean, that was just insulting. He was really going to use his job as an excuse not to date you?

You decided to put the power of your dress and the newfound confidence that came with it to use. You leaned back into his chest, placing a well-manicured hand along his face to tilt his head closer to yours. Anyone watching might have confused you for lovers.

“I know, I know. You’re the #1 now. Can’t be my boyfriend. You’re too busy being a big strong hero. Just like All Might.”

Izuku laughed nervously, sounding a little breathless. Maybe you had laid it on a little too thick.

“Maybe I could be, but I don’t know if I should be.”

You frowned, turning to face him better in your confusion.

“What is that supposed to mean?” It was a genuine question, all of the anger sapped out of you.

“Well, it’s dangerous being a hero. I probably shouldn’t date anyone until I retire. Actually, I always kind of accepted I wouldn’t be able to have a love life as a hero. Anyone who gets close is a target for villains. It’s why I always try to keep the paparazzi off of you. I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt.”

“Wait…that’s why you’re never seen with me?”

Hawks found somewhere else to be just then, conveniently enough. You heard him get out of his seat behind, leaving you to your secluded little part of the bar. No doubt he decided not to be involved in whatever argument was about to go down.

“Yeah. I thought you knew.” Izuku frowned.

“No.” You stared up at him, mouth open in shock. “I always thought you were ashamed of me.”

“What?” Izuku grabbed your arms, pulling you closer so you could look into his bright green eyes as he spoke his next words. “I have never been ashamed of you. Ever. I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like that. I had no idea.”

He ran a hand through his hair, letting go of you to pace in place. He began mumbling under his breath, too fast for you to understand what he was saying. Meanwhile, you felt shocked tears well in your eyes, overwhelmed at this sudden discovery and the emotions pooling in your chest.

“All of these years I’ve been in love with you, thinking you just kept me around to keep girls at parties off your back.”

Izuku stopped dead at that, whirling around to face you.

“You’re-”

You clapped a hand over your mouth, horrified that he had heard you.

“Forget I said anything. I didn’t mean to tell you that. I’m so sorry Izuku. I don’t know what your reasons for keeping me around are, but it’s honestly not my place to ask. You were always very clear that we were only ever friends, and whatever I feel isn’t your responsibility.”

“Of course it is! You haven’t been just my friend for years! I’ve loved you since our third year. I just never thought you wanted me back, and when I became a hero I didn’t think you’d want to accept the danger of that kind of relationship. But…I was too selfish to let you go, and I’m sorry for any pain I caused you.”

“You love me?” The only words you really heard, you repeated them breathlessly.

“Yes.”

Throwing caution to the wind, you grabbed Izuku’s tie and pulled him down to your level, planting a reckless kiss on his mouth. He tasted warm and faintly spicy, like cinnamon. The smell of his cologne enveloped you as you breathed him in briefly before pulling away.

“We can talk about your stupid belief that I wouldn’t want to date you because your job is dangerous later. I’ll make a PowerPoint to remind you that I wanted to be a hero too, and just because I wasn’t accepted into the hero course doesn’t mean I didn’t learn how to fight. But right now? Right now, I have other things in mind for you, me and this dress.”

Izuku blinked before looking you up and down. “I am so glad I bought you that dress.”

 Bonus:

“I told you I could get them together.”

Miruko rolled her eyes at the winged hero. “If you’re about to credit yourself for that, I will hurt you.”

“All I had to do was pretend to flirt with the little birdie, and her jealous boyfriend came running over. Look at them now!” Hawks was entirely too smug.

“Whatever you say, Keigo.”

[sapphicsandscience]

Growing Pains - Susan & Kerry ER fanfiction (1/1)

When Susan needs a little help, Kerry is the unlikely one who steps up. However, the two women struggle to get past their fractious relationship.

(read below the cut or on AO3)

Patients filled the hospital corridors from top to bottom. A group of intoxicated wedding goers from the previous night and the sweltering temperatures had blessed County with a dose of chaos. No one seemed to be moving anywhere apart from into each other, including Kerry who had returned from examining a patient to find it somehow worse than fifteen minutes previously.

“Sir, take a seat. Someone will see you when it’s your turn,” she said, strategically maneuvering her crutch between herself and a man in a fancy suit drunkenly stumbling around. The last thing she wanted was his bloody nose spilling all over her clothes.

Her white coat was an object of desire to the frustrated and uncomfortable patients as she attempted to move through the hoards of people. Her petite frame made it impossible to see the admit desk, her target destination, over what seemed like hundreds of heads. However, the sound of an infant crying from that direction managed to pierce through all the noise. Using the cries as a guide and her crutch to give some individuals a ‘gentle nudge’, Kerry finally managed to break through to the admit desk.

She was greeted by an upset-looking little Susie in the hands of a wired-looking Randi. The baby girl was all but being thrown around reception in the clerk’s arms as she answered phones and Susie evidently was no longer enjoying the ride.

“Where are all our doctors?” Kerry said with a brash tone. She immediately switched her demeanor as she leaned in closer to little Susie and stroked her damp cheek, which momentarily distracted Susie from her wailing. “There is no room to swing a cat out there.”

Randi stopped searching through the pile of charts in front of her and looked at Kerry. “That would be animal abuse,” she deadpanned.

“It’s a figure of speech.”

Randi tried to contain her smirk. “Mark is in CT with a patient and I don’t know where Doug is.”

“It’s unprofessional for an ER to be in such a state, never mind dangerous.” Kerry increased the volume of her voice as Susie began to cry again. “What about Susan? I’ve barely seen her all morning.”

“She had to take a phone call,” Randi said, preoccupied trying to soothe Susie by dangling around a small blanket in her face, the only thing she had been able to pull out of the diaper bag quickly. “Something about some lawyer I think.”

“No, I just saw her going to take a nap in exam four,” Connie interrupted as she walked over to the admit desk. “What are you doing to the poor girl?” Her brows raised as she watched Randi’s method of comforting the baby.

“You’re kidding! I can’t look after her all day!” Randi threw the blanket onto the desk in frustration. “She said she would be back in ten minutes.”

Kerry sighed. As much as it displeased her to see a doctor's personal life interfering with their work (and the running of the department), she couldn't help but have some sympathy for Susan. It hadn’t exactly been her choice to wind up looking after her sister's child. The majority of Kerry’s frustration with Susan came from the fact that Kerry hated seeing a doctor with such talent and potential distracted by things out of her control.

But it wasn’t just a distraction. It was a baby. Little Susie was her family.  

Family. Something Kerry did have much left of anymore.

Deciding not to go and wake Susan up, Kerry glanced up at the clock. It was nearing twelve and the morning hadn’t made much of a dent in the crowd that was in chairs. However, she was due a break and none of the cases appeared particularly emergent. Mark and Doug could take care of it when they decided to return to the trenches she thought.

“I’ll take her for a bit,” Kerry offered, reaching out her arm towards Susie.

Randi and Connie simultaneously looked up at Kerry, disbelief written on their faces.

Kerry rolled her eyes back. “What? I don’t bite, no matter what rumors you have heard.”

The phone began to ring and Randi gratefully passed Susie to Kerry, ignoring the fact that Susan probably wasn’t going to like this. “Just take her, please. I'm pretty sure she needs to be changed.”

Kerry expertly maneuvered the infant up against her chest with one arm, so the girl's rosy cheeks gently rested on her shoulder. “I think Randi is right, isn't she little Susie?” Kerry felt the heavy diaper as she rested Susie on her arm.

“You look like you have done that before.” Connie pried not so subtly, watching as the young girl almost immediately calmed against Kerry’s touch, Susie’s wet eyes wide as she gauged this new person holding her.

The personal life of Kerry Weaver was, of course, under the scrutiny of the gossip mill. And while none exactly saw her as the maternal type, Connie wanted to see her reaction.

But she got none.

“Is this her diaper bag?” Kerry indicated to the bag on the desk.

“Yep, all her stuff is in there.”  

Kerry scooped up the various baby paraphernalia into the bag and hung it over the handle of her crutch for the short journey. “Connie, I’ll be in one of the exam rooms if anyone needs me,” she called back as she walked away.

Avoiding the crowds, Kerry carried Susie into a nearby exam room. She switched on the overhead lights but Susie brought her little fists up to her face in discomfort. Apologizing to her, Kerry quickly turned them off again and instead turned on a less intense lamp that provided enough light for her to do the job.

“It’s okay, here we are. Nice and quiet here,” she rocked the girl on her hip. “Away from all those yucky sick people.”

Kerry walked over to the bed, collecting a sterile sheet before placing Susie down on her back. Susie was sporting a cute one-piece ensemble, with a matching sun hat and socks. The diaper was very full and wet and Kerry checked for any leakages before sliding the girl’s clothes off. Satisfied that there were none, Kerry opened the bag that was sitting beside Susie with her free hand and collected the required items to change her.  

“I can see why Susan is so attached to you,” Kerry patted Susie's little stomach as the baby happily squirmed on her back, enjoying her new clean diaper. “You’re a gorgeous girl aren’t you? You must have your aunt’s genes hey,” she said and Susie babbled back in agreement, a cheeky smile falling on her face. Kerry leaned down closer and shook her head excitedly. “Yes, you are.”

It took a while for Susan to regain full control of her limbs as she clawed herself out of the sleep-deprived coma that she had entered in exam four. Her call with her now ex-lawyer had left her wishing she could just disappear from existence for a bit.

__

Not quite ready to lift herself up, Susan stretched out with a yawn as she studied the ceiling. Little Susie had been up every couple of hours the last few nights, the young girl perhaps feeling the unrest that was in her aunt's life at the moment. Between that, work, and the amount of stress she was under, Susan couldn't remember the last time she had a moment to herself.

Though this moment to her herself had not left her feeling particularly rested or rejuvenated. Instead, she awoke from her ‘short nap’ uncomfortable. Everything was hot and cloudy and she felt like she had awfully overslept.

Which was odd, considering Susan could swear she had only been in here for 10 minutes. 20 Max.

Reaching over to the side table she picked up her watch and squinted.

“Crap,” she muttered. It had been at least an hour.

The realization that she had left Susie with Randi along with a certain chief resident's voice in the back of her head berating her for missing work, sprung Susan into action and she quickly collected her stethoscope and pager before running out of the exam room.

“Randi, I’m so sorry!” she called out, fixing her hair and clipping on her pager to her lab coat as she made her way towards the admin desk. “I just thought I’d close my eyes for a few minutes and then -” her apology ended abruptly as she looked up and noticed something was wrong. “Where’s Susie?” her voice went cold.

Randi frowned in confusion as she tried to decipher Susan’s questions while simultaneously trying to control the rowdy crowd that had somehow spilled into the admit area. “Oh the baby, Dr. Weaver took her,” she replied.

“Took her?” Susan tried to quell any panic and come to a logical conclusion. “Like to the daycare?”

She struggled to fathom any reason as to why Kerry had taken Susie. But perhaps Kerry had grown tired of Susie’s cries and shipped her upstairs to prevent any further distraction in the department.

But why had no one come to wake her first?  

“I’m not sure...” Preoccupied, Randi brushed her off and resumed yelling at the man that was opposite the desk. “Sir, you need to sit down. Otherwise, I’ll turf you out of here myself!”

“Lady, you can’t talk to me like that!”

“I’ll talk how I like,” Randi spat out and smiled as she watched the man retreat back. “I think she is still down here though. She said something about an exam room,” Randi focused her attention back on Susan and answered calmly.

But Susan was gone before Randi had even finished her sentence.

“Move please!” Susan pushed herself through the crowded ER corridors, not bothering with any pleasantries.

It had been over an hour since she had left Susie to go and make her phone call. Over an hour that little Susie had been left alone with a stranger. Left alone with Kerry Weaver of all people. Randi would have been better passing her off to the LOL in curtain three, Susan thought.

With every empty exam room she found, Susan’s heart rate climbed. And with every extra beat, Susan’s mind became less sound.

What if they had left the hospital? Susie could be anywhere.

“Mark! Thank god,” Susan burst into the suture room.

“I’m a little busy right now,” he replied, getting ready to begin a suture on a passed-out patient, presumably another victim of last night's wedding party.

“No, it’s Weaver you have to -” she continued breathlessly.

Mark let out an exasperated sigh and swung around on his stool. “Susan, I thought we had been through this. You two need to learn how -”

“Weaver has abducted little Susie!”

Bewildered, Mark and Malik stared at Susan.  

“Umm...Malik, wash this wound out again, will you? I’ll be back shortly,” he took off his gloves and stood up, leaving a curious-looking Malik behind him.

“What on earth are you talking about?” he ushered Susan into the corridor.

Susan raised her hands to her forehead. “I went to take a break...Susie...she was with Randi and then she wasn’t...I -” she rambled, running her shaking fingers through her hair.

“Slow down. What does Kerry have to do with any of this?”

“Randi said that Kerry took her and I can’t find them anywhere.”

Mark frowned. “I’m sure there is an explanation,” he comforted, as the pair walked to somewhere more private where they could talk.

“Mark, I don’t care if there is an explanation,” she said, as they entered the doctor’s lounge. “I don’t want her near little Susie!”

Susan’s words ricocheted through the doctor’s lounge, clearly making themselves heard to the occupants. Kerry and Connie were both seated on the couch along with Susie who was happily perched upon Kerry’s lap. The young girl smiled as she stole both of the women’s complete attention. That was until Mark and Susan had arrived. An awkward air swept through the room as they all stared at each other.

“Good Susan, you’re here.” Kerry was the first to break the silence and she stood up, ready to pass the baby over to Susan. “I think she is getting a little hungry, but I wasn’t sure what formula she takes.”

Kerry quickly gave the baby to Susan, which was slightly hindered by the fact that Susie had a firm fist wrapped around one of Kerry’s fingers. Kerry managed to pry her tiny fingers from her own and Susie was then in her aunt's arms, which immediately allowed Susan to breathe again.

“There is already some made up in the fridge,” Susan said offhandedly, the events of the last fifteen or so minutes washing over her as she stroked her niece's cheek. Susie was fine. “The formula.”

Kerry shuffled on her feet for a few seconds before committing and turning around to go and collect the bottle. Susan sighed as she took a seat at the table. She hadn’t meant for Kerry to go and get the formula. Truly she wished they all would leave. Kerry especially. Only so she didn’t have to look at her in the face after what she had just said.

Mark laid a hand on her shoulder. “If everything is alright here, I have to get back,”

“I should be getting back to work as well,” Connie lifted herself up from the couch. “Bye-bye, little Susie,”

Further tension spilled into the lounge as the two buffers departed. Susan glanced over to Kerry who had located the bottle and was warming it up. Kerry’s movements were deliberate and slow as if she was trying to extend the time she could have her back to the other woman in the room.

Susan swallowed. “Kerry I-”

“Randi was getting swept under, so I offered to take her for a bit.” the redhead interjected. Her voice was shrill, though not in its usual acerbic manner. More as if the voice was hitched in the chest and its owner was desperately trying to mask it.

Susan nodded, watching as Kerry collected the bottle from the microwave and tested the temperature of the milk on the inside of her wrist.

“I should have said something. Left a note.” Kerry continued as she turned back around. “Here,” she smiled, placing the bottle on the table.

Susie’s eyes immediately lit up and she reached out for her meal. She couldn’t quite hold her own bottle up yet, but that wasn’t going to deter her from trying.

“Thanks,” Susan replied and picked up the bottle. Susie grumbled as her milk was delayed when Susan splashed some of the milk onto her own wrist.

“Oh, I already did that,” Kerry pointed out, the intonation falling at the end of her sentence as she realized Susan wanted to check for herself. “Nevermind.”

Kerry uncuffed her crutch from her arm and gently rested it against the table before sitting down. Both women smiled as Susie latched on to her bottle and drank feverishly. Susie was something for them to focus on rather than themselves. And it was working. The mood lifted.

“She is a good little drinker,” Kerry commented.

“Kerry...I’m sorry,” Susan said.

Kerry stretched her neck from side to side as Susan waited for a response. Apologizing to Kerry Weaver was not something Susan had ever planned to do. Yet, here she was. Apologizing. Giving Kerry the upper hand.

However, the chief resident was as good at accepting apologies as she was offering them and she ignored the crumb of a peace offering that had been placed in front of her.

Susan pressed her lips together and looked down at little Susie, who was contently enjoying her milk, to quench the anger she could feel rising inside.

Kerry couldn’t even acknowledge it. Which made apologizing in the first place feel even worse.

Despite her apparent inability to make things easier for herself and Susan, Kerry didn’t show any signs of leaving and leaned forward. “I think you are doing a very admirable thing. Looking after your niece,” she said softly, but Susan couldn’t help but hear it in a condescending tone.  

“It probably won’t be for much longer,” she replied bitterly.

Susie chose this moment to start making some ominous gurgling sounds and Susan reached towards the bag to find a blanket. The last thing she needed today was another shirt decorated with baby spit-up. Her laundry pile was growing and little Susie was ‘customizing’ them faster than she could wash them.  

Kerry quickly went to help her, unzipping the bag further and making it easier for Susan to pull the blanket out with her free hand. “Randi said you were speaking to a lawyer?”

“Chloe wants to play mom again and apparently me being the only constant fixture in this girl's life for the last few months means nothing,” Susan lifted the girl up onto her blanket-covered shoulder and gently burped the baby. “I have a meeting with another one tonight. But I can’t bring Susie along.”

“Can’t your parents help?”

“They don’t want to get involved,” Susan replied, eyes downcast. “And maybe, I shouldn’t either. Just let Chloe get what she wants. She is her real mother after all.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Biology doesn’t dictate love, Susan. Not like that.”

Susan shook her head. “I’m no better than Chloe. My first response was to get rid of her. Adopt her out. You don’t do that if you love someone. You don’t do that to your child.” her words were less of a statement and more of a sad pleading question. She knew the answers. That nothing was as black and white as that. That people give away children they love all the time. She knew she was holding herself to a higher standard than she would anyone else.

But she just wanted someone to tell her what to do. Tell her what was the right thing.

And deep down. Tell her she could be a mother.

A good mother.

She wanted it so badly that she’d even take it from Kerry Weaver.

Or maybe Kerry Weaver’s opinion meant more to her than she was willing to accept.

Kerry remained silent for a few moments, fiddling with a ring on her finger. Susan furrowed her brows, she could see the light reflecting in Kerry’s damp eyes. Her words had evidently had some sort of emotional effect on Kerry.

Since when was Kerry Weaver so invested in my personal life?

Kerry cleared her throat. “Susan, I’m sure, whatever happens, it will work out,” she sat up straighter, regaining an air of authority. “But still, I think you should go tonight.”

“How?”

Kerry looked down nervously. “I...I can be with her,” she offered quietly.

“Kerry-“

“I’m serious. I’ll watch over her for an hour or so, while you go and meet this new lawyer,” she said. “It will be fine, me and Susie have already gotten to know each other haven’t we?” Kerry lent forward and rubbed Susie's back.

“Kerry,” Susan sighed, leaning back further against the chair and away from Kerry. “It’s nothing personal, but I don’t like the idea of leaving her with someone we don’t know.”

“It’s okay Susan, I understand.” she nodded with a pained smile and Susan could see how her face had fallen ever so slightly. “It was just a suggestion.” Kerry stood up and collected her crutch. No further words were exchanged between the pair as Kerry walked to the door.

“Wait Kerry,” Susan called out with a regretful grimace. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. She picked up a stray piece of paper from the table and started writing. “Umm...this is my apartment address, come by at 6:30 and I’ll go through what she needs?”

__

Susan gently inserted her key into the lock and turned the mechanism, careful to make as little noise as possible. With Susie being so difficult to settle these past few weeks, she doubted that Kerry would have had much success putting her down for the night. But on the off chance that she had, Susan didn’t want to wake her as she arrived home.

She was eager to get inside and see Susie, still not entirely comfortable with the idea of Kerry in her apartment and taking care of her. Logically she knew she didn’t have many reasons to be overly concerned. Kerry was a responsible adult and a doctor. And much to her shock, quite good at dealing with young children. However, the difficult relationship between them didn’t do a lot to settle her nerves.

She wasn’t exactly sure what she expected when she walked into her apartment, but to her surprise, everything felt overwhelmingly normal. The sheer presence of Kerry Weaver hadn’t turned the place into a cold and disturbed environment.

Not that Susan thought that of course.

It still felt like home.

She found herself smiling as she closed the door behind her and unwrapped the scarf around her neck. There wasn’t much to smile about, she thought; her life was still in shambles and she was going to have to deal with what was likely going to be another awkward Weaver interaction before she could even think about her head hitting the pillow. However, the day hadn’t been a total disaster.

There was a light on in the kitchen but the lounge area was dimly lit. A single lamp illuminated Kerry who was seated on the couch and absorbed in the book she was reading. Susan bounced up onto her tiptoes as she hung her scarf up. Raising her chin up she could just make out a peaceful Susie sleeping in her bassinet over the other side of the room and she let out a breath of air.

“Susan,” Kerry stirred and placed her book onto the coffee table. “How was it?”

“It was good,” She replied.

In fact, the meeting with this lawyer had gone far better than expected. Though Susan wasn’t keen to elaborate further right now. She had opened up herself enough to Kerry for one day. Arguably enough for a lifetime.

But this lawyer was ready to fight. The only question left was, if she was.

“I’m glad,” Kerry smiled.

Susan wandered over to the bassinet, the innate need to see her niece overpowering the fact that the girl was already settled and asleep. She placed a gentle hand on Susie’s front and stroked her cheek lightly with a finger. Susan had grown to hate missing bedtimes with Susie. The girl moved on her back ever so slightly, a little hand coming up to Susan’s that was now resting on her cheek. Susan stilled as her breath hitched in her throat.

Of course, she was going to come home and wake the baby in front of Kerry.

But Susie’s face remained content as she continued to sleep and her arm fell back down.

“She had been like that for the past hour or so,”

Susan jumped as she heard Kerry’s voice over her shoulder, not having noticed the redhead come up behind her. The women had a way of creeping up on you. Figuratively and literally.

“Took me long enough,” Kerry continued with a smile. “But she hasn’t woken since, so fingers crossed, she might sleep through for you.”

“I can’t tell you how much of a relief that is,” Susan let herself relax. “Thank you, Kerry.”

Kerry nodded stiffly before turning back and using the various pieces of furniture to balance as she returned to her crutch that had been resting against the back of the couch. Susan instinctively looked away, not having realized until that point that she wasn’t using her crutch. She never really thought about it, Kerry’s leg, but seeing her grimace as she walked across the apartment made her internally cringe as she remembered the incident in the lounge.

How she had managed to create such a complex relationship with Kerry she didn’t know.

Never in her life had Susan had so many painful interactions with the same person. And the worst of it all was that she didn’t actually dislike Kerry. Sure, the woman could drive her up the wall on a daily basis but she didn’t hate her. There had been far worse bosses in her life. And yet, the two could never seem to have a normal conversation. Sometimes they’d laugh together, Kerry would feel like one of them, one of the team. And then it was like she was an alien from another planet, sent here to obsessively pick over their every move.

And Susan let Kerry get to her, more than anyone else.

“I guess I better be going then,” Kerry fluffed up the cushions where she had been sitting and picked up her bag. “Umm...there is also some takeout for you in the fridge.”

Susan looked over surprised and walked into the kitchen. Though before she made it into the fridge, she noticed that the kitchen had obviously been cleaned and she immediately felt embarrassed. She had made sure that the apartment was in somewhat of a presentable state before Kerry arrived. However, it was now clear that Kerry hadn’t thought so.

But still, Susan tried to focus on how it was nice of her.

“It’s Chinese. I’ve seen you eat it at work. Not that I watch you eat or anything. I just knew that it was something you liked. Anyway...” she stammered.  

“Kerry, you shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, it was nothing really.”

Susan was about to thank her again when something caught her eye in her bedroom. There were three freshly washed and folded piles of clothing sitting at the end of her bed.

“You...you washed my clothes?”

There it was, Susan thought. Kerry Weaver could not help herself. Had to go and interfere in her life once again. And now she was micromanaging her in her own home. The thought of Kerry seeing her baby vomit-covered shirts and god knows what else sent Susan into overdrive. This was too much of a personal infringement for her.

Not picking up on the sudden change in Susan’s mood, Kerry continued as she put on her coat. “Susie was a bit grizzly and I thought a trip to the laundry room may help. She surprisingly likes it down there.”

“I didn’t say you could do my laundry!”

Kerry stilled, her face palling at the sudden acidity in Susan’s voice. “I just thought you might appreciate the extra help.”

“I don't want your help, Kerry! Not at work and definitely not in my own home.” she spat out. “I’m not useless you know?”

Susan lent heavily against the kitchen counter with her arms forward and closed her eyes. She needed Kerry to leave now.

Kerry, however, walked over to her with a look of concern in her eyes.

“Susan, I don’t think you are useless.” She reached out to place a hand on Susan’s forearm. But, Susan dramatically flinched away from her and Kerry stumbled back.

The redhead visibly tensed and straightened into her usual demanding posture. “I overstepped. It won’t happen again.”

“Kerry-” Susan began as Kerry began to walk to the door but she was distracted by the sudden cries from Susie who had awoken with the commotion. Quickly she rushed over to her, picking her up and rocking her against her chest. “Shhh, I’m sorry, it’s okay Susie.”

But Susie continued to cry.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow. Don’t be late,” Kerry said as she was leaving. “It..it has been happening far too frequently of late. It doesn’t look good for your application for Chief Resident.”

Susan’s apartment did feel cold that night.

[sooibian]

Twist of Fate

image credits: @/exoxoxoid (twitter)

Pairing: Criminal Psychologist Kyungsoo x Crime Reporter OC (Miss Jung) ft. Minseok, Jongin

Description: Much against your wishes, you are back in your hometown to write about the murders of two young women - your only ticket out is the criminal psychologist who has been assisting Superintendent Kim Minseok with offender profiling.

Inspired by: Sharp Objects, The Fall and this moodboard by @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt​ 

Tags/Warnings: Serial killer AU - angst, grief, loss, murders, descriptions of anxiety, reactive and attentive immobility, asphyxiation, indicative of humiliation, explicit and graphic situations. Please do not read onward if any of this triggers or upsets you!!!!

Word count: +3.7k

A/N: ...i need to stop watching crime dramas. 

@leewalberg​ @his-mochi-cheeks​ @changshapatrol​ 

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

When you left Cheongsong, you’d left for good. Or so you’d thought.

Ten years later what brought you back was not your family, for you had none left, but the murders of two young women that had left the quaint little town, surrounded by hills artistically contoured by apple orchards, shaken and distraught.

Everyone knew each other in Cheongsong which should have made Superintendent Kim Minseok’s job easier, but he was caught in an ugly snare of emotions which seemed to have clouded his critical thinking faculties. These were people he knew closely, people he’d grown up with. For him, pointing fingers at any of them meant carving permanent cracks in relationships that were stronger than most familial ties.

“Off the record, then”, you shoved your scratchpad back into your purse, turned off the recorder with a click and looked at Minseok square in the eyes, only to find the amiable, portly, catlike footballer you went to school with hidden in their farthest, darkest depths - reduced to a mere whimsy. The memories of the man who sat before you, now seemed abysmally distorted by the colossal burden of the unknown.

“It never is.” He chuckled darkly, took a measured sip of his bourbon and rolled it around his tongue before swallowing. “Never thought I’d see you here again.”

“That makes two of us. Write about killings in your hometown...it makes an impact because it’s personal, my boss says. We’re to...exploit the fact that nobody substantial is covering this.” You recited, eyes trained on the sliver of grime on the coaster.

Minseok clicked his tongue in disapproval and enquired, “Where have you been staying?” 

“A guest house by the Country Club.”

“So, not the Mansion”, he remarked callously.

Wounds that had barely healed came undone at the mention of your family home. Your throat tightened and you felt as if you had been shanked with a broken bottle in the stomach. The ill fated house reeked of misfortune, grief and loss. Its inhabitants had fallen one by one like lined up dominoes. This curse had forced you out to start a new life in Seoul.

“It’s still quite well kept, you know.” Minseok stated matter-of-factly.

Taking a deep swig of your bourbon, you explained earnestly as the burn of the liquid blazed down your throat, “Minseok, I want nothing more than to get out of here. So, please, give me something. A nugget.” 

“I don’t want to be quoted on this. Or misquoted. This is all new to me as well. Two bodies in three months? Can you imagine?” Overcome with emotion, he ran a hand through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut.

You put a comforting hand on his and offered in a voice laced with empathy, “Listen, from where I stand, all you need is a new line of inquiry and linking these two murders would give you one. I’ve seen the pictures.” 

You swiped through images of two dark haired women on your phone - Park Soojin and Seo Jinri. Both of them were in their late twenties. They lay in their own beds as if soundly asleep, modesty protected only by sheer white blankets, crimson tinted lips parted ever so slightly, freshly painted nails shining in dim lighting. And roses. There were a couple of red roses placed by their side as if in condolence. The blood curdling strangulation marks around their necks made them look like dreadfully divine paintings. 

“They could be sisters”, you observed with moist eyes, voice hushed to a whisper.

Contemplating on the images with pursed lips, Minseok responded with a tight nod and waved a 50,000 bill in the waitress’ general direction.

“Where’d you find these?” He asked in a threateningly calm voice, averting his eyes from your apparently disagreeable gaze.

“You know that’s confidential”, you replied, half-shrugging, nonchalant.

“I’ll drop you home”, he muttered, and shoved his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. 

With a defeated sigh you grabbed your purse and phone and proceeded to follow Minseok out of the only bar in Cheongsong, “No, it’s fine. I could use a walk.”

Suddenly, he turned around, searched your eyes for a fleeting second before admitting begrudgingly, “Kim Jongin. He’s the prime suspect in the first case. The murder of Park Soojin.”  

Your legs froze. “What?! Why?”

You knew Kim Jongin, like you knew everyone else in this town. His family owned one of the biggest apple orchards in Cheongsong but Kim Jongin never manifested that in his behaviour. He was known to be friendly, kind, sensitive. Almost too sensitive some would say.

“That’s it. That’s your nugget. Here.” He handed you a business card bearing the name ‘Dr. Doh Kyungsoo’. “He’s been informally assisting with offender profiling. He’ll talk to you. Seems like he’ll talk to anyone, really. Now get in the car, it’s freezing out here.” 

.

.

.

“Dr. Doh, thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

Dr. Doh Kyungsoo’s home office was a detached unit with a separate entrance, distanced from his main residence. It was exactly the way you’d imagined a psychologist’s office to be - light coloured walls, comfortable chairs, soft pillows, insipid artwork. Neat and clean, fostering a sense of comfort for visitors. 

The Doh family had moved into Cheongsong shortly after you’d left for Seoul. Coming from old money in search of some peace and quiet, they invested in agricultural distribution, Cheongyang Pepper farms and assumed one of the more significant estates to live in while their only son, Doh Kyungsoo, was sent abroad to pursue higher education.   

“Please, call me Kyungsoo.” He took your hand in his, gave it a good, firm shake and gestured you to take the chair opposite his.

“I think ‘Dr. Doh’ should be fine”, you stated plainly and he acknowledged with a curt nod.

“What brings you here?” Asked Kyungsoo, holding your gaze, hands folded in his lap as he leaned back into his chair with a soft sigh. 

Grimacing, you waved your recorder at him, “They say you’re my ticket out of this godforsaken place.”

Minseok had helped you set up the meeting so you thought it proper to waive cumbersome introductions and niceties and Kyungsoo seemed very much in sync with your line of thought. 

He smiled, “I’m merely a bystander, Miss Jung, with slightly more informed opinions, maybe.”

“Informed opinions are what I’m here for, Dr. Doh.” You smiled back, “Superintendent Kim Minseok doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

“He’s a man shackled by bureaucracy and I’m a constant reminder of his team’s staggering incompetence, If I were him, I wouldn’t like me very much either.”

“Do you think there’s a link between the two murders?” 

He nods. “I’m fairly certain there is.” 

“But the police won’t look into it? Why is that?”

“Nobody likes a serial, Miss Jung. Besides, there’s no way the team could cope with the increased workload of linked inquiries. There are over a hundred statements, documents, officers’ reports waiting to be read and actioned. And the case of Park Soojin is a peculiar one.”

“Kim Jongin’s girlfriend? How so?”

“She was the ex-wife of a member of the parliament. This case does absolutely no favours to his image so he needs it solved immediately.” 

The word solved was treated to air quotes.

“So, they’ve ruled him out as a suspect?”

“His alibi checks out. They suspect Kim Jongin.”

“Why? Just because Kim Jongin fled immediately after her body was found? How did the police react to that?”

“Because Jongin fled, his brother was asked to provide DNA which turned out to be a familial match to the DNA gathered at the crime scene. But that does not necessarily mean it’s the killer’s DNA. Miss Park was in a relationship with him. There’s no surprise his semen was found in her esophagus.”

“Do you rule him out as a suspect then?”

“I prefer to reserve my comment.”

“Why do you think he fled?”

“Grief drives us to do irrational things, Miss Jung. Maybe he just needed a breather from everything that was going on here. Can’t say for sure.”

“You’re certain the perpetrator is male?”

“Yes, I am. The perpetrator is male and an athletic one at that. Probably in his late twenties or early thirties. While the strangulation marks may be different, the pathologists reports suggest petechial haemorrhage in both cases which means he strangled and released and then strangled again, over and over. He’s either a sadist, or his hand lacks strength. You try it, grab my wrist.”

He extended his arm towards you and you politely declined. So he wrapped his right hand over his left wrist and held firmly for a few moments. 

“Forty seconds. It’s amazing how quickly the hand tires!” He exclaimed as if awestruck. It was the maximum emotion the inscrutable Dr. Doh had displayed during the course of this interview.

“Victims of strangulation are known to make a mess of themselves. They defecate and / or urinate..”

“That is correct. The bodies were both found posed and clean. Which means he spent hours after, washing them and cleaning the sheets, even. There could be a religious angle to this. Washing away their sins...maybe his own, considering he probably gets into the bath with them.”

He pushed a cup of long gone cold tea towards you, but you shook your head. As a crime reporter, you thought you’d seen it all but the possibility of this being the work of a serial killer was a first for you. Also the fact that it was happening in the place you grew up in was starting to gnaw at you a little more aggressively than you’d liked. 

“I’m not going to lie, Dr. Doh, this gives me pause for concern. Do you think there is a sexual angle to these killings? As far as I know, the victims have shown no signs of any such abuse.”

Kyungsoo sipped on his tea and worried at his lower lip briefly before responding. “I believe he’s the kind to take pictures, momentos from the scene. They sustain him between killings.”

“And the roses? There were..”

“Three next to Park Soojin’s corpse and two next to Seo Jinri’s.”

“Does it indicate -”

“- a countdown? Perhaps.” He studied your face intently and offered you tea again. This time you complied and then proceeded with the interview.

“There was no sign of forced entry in either cases. The police think the perpetrator was known to the victims.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. You see, Miss Jung, the problem is that these cases were treated as self solvers from the get go and that’s where it all went wrong.”

His smile at the end of that sentence was one of finality, somehow indicative that you’d overstayed your welcome. To be able to milk him for all he was worth, you were going to let him loose for the time being.

Clicking your recorder off, you tilted your head to the side, smiled politely, “Well, thank you for your time, Dr. Doh.”

“It’s been a pleasure.” 

While he was walking you to the front door, you couldn’t help but ask, “Dr. Doh, if I may, were the victims known to each other? Were they friends? Acquaintances?”

“That’s for the police to investigate. They were both in their late twenties, highly qualified -  one was a solicitor the other a botanist, both tan with double eyelids, a little over 5 feet”, He took a step closer to you, instinctively you took an uncomfortable step back but found yourself trapped between him and the front door. His burgundy turtleneck smelt like warm, sweet gingerbread mixed with the contrastive redolence of something woody. He put his hand on the clip that held your hair in a bun, an elusive smile dancing on his lips as he allowed your hair to freely ripple down to your waist. “...and they both had dark, waist length hair”, he whispered into your ear, sending a frisson of fear down your spine.

You looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights as he slowly retracted. Eyes locked with yours and face contorted in a fierce frown, he concluded grimly, “You fit his profile.”

.

.

.

Unable to sleep well that night, you went for an early morning run the next day and took a detour to Minseok’s residence. After discussing your findings with him, he offered you a close protection officer who’d moonlight to provide you security just until they’d made an arrest. Which meant you’d have one uniformed officer standing guard outside your guest house all day. You knew that they wouldn’t have done this for you if your family name wasn’t Jung.

“Kim Jongin’s back in town.” Relief seemed to have smoothened the lines on Minseok’s forehead and there was a boost of confidence in his voice when he broke the news to you.

“Are you planning to take him in?” you asked, sipping on coffee in Minseok’s kitchen while he made you some eggs.

He looked victorious and his brows shot up to his hairline as he explained animatedly, “We have enough evidence to put him on trial. I’ll get the warrant in two days.” 

“Hand to your heart, do you think he did it?”

“Yah, I’d never be able to make an arrest like that. If you promise not to quote me, I will say that -” 

He peered at you questioningly and you eased him with a reassuring nod, “Go on.”

“This looks like the work of an outsider.”

.

.

.

Later that evening, you found Jongin seated alone at a table in the bar. Beaten, as if overcome with exhaustion he was crouched over a glass of scotch, a silent tear sliding down his cheek. You sat next to him and ordered him another drink.

“I killed her.” He stated simply, eyes trained on the empty glass in front of him. To see a man whose taste buds didn’t even agree with coffee back in the day downing hard liquor effortlessly, broke your heart.

“What?” you enquired, sparing no effort to lay the edge off of your voice.

“That evening, we’d had a huge argument. She- she’d been wanting to move out of here for the longest time and I never agreed. It was as if she knew!” Burying his face in his hands, he broke into full blown sobs. It was a while before he composed himself and spoke again, “Here, you have your story. Following a trivial spat, a small town chaebol kills his girlfriend.”

Shaking your head furiously in disagreement, you held him tightly by his shoulders, “This is your chance, Jongin. Speak your truth. Tell them that you didn’t do it. They’ll need to hear it from you!”

Jongin looked you in the eyes, his own brimming with tears, “I was twelve when my puppy died and I couldn’t seem to get over it. My mother gave me this book which said the only way men can get over grief is by showing indifference, I tried that with Soojin.”

Brows furrowed, you asked, “And?”

“It worked for an hour.” He chuckled darkly, “I loved her and I always will. At this point I just don’t care. I should’ve listened to her. Maybe I even deserve this. I see the way people look at me, I- I feel written off, ostracized. A goddamn parliamentarian wants me in. My truth won’t survive their might.” 

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you started to talk him out of potential suicide, “Jongin -” 

But he raised his forefinger to silence you. Trembling, he asked, “I just find myself wondering, can you die from a broken heart?”

.

.

.

Kim Jongin had turned himself in.

Acquiescent to the slow wheels of justice, moderately satisfied with the first draft of your article, and concerned about your safety, your boss agreed to call you back to the Seoul office, at least until there were further developments in the case.

During the course of your stay in Cheongsong, you drove past the little street leading up to the Mansion several times but not once did you glance in its direction. Before your flight the next morning, you decided to pay the house a little visit to say a final goodbye. The first snow had laid a fleecy white blanket on the ceramic roof that gleamed from the light of the astral light of the night sky. You were flooded with memories of chasing butterflies in spring, climbing the only mango tree in town which still stood proud in your backyard, the stories of monsters and ghosts your parents would read to you in the blanket forts you’d build together… blissfully unaware that in a not so far future this was all your life would entail - monsters and ghosts.

The great oakwood front door turned on its hinges and a familiar aroma of caramel apple hotteok invited you in. They say every house has a peculiar smell and yours smelt of caramel apple hotteok, even after all this time. Your lips curled upward at the strangeness of your sentiments. The demons you tried so hard to escape all your life seemed like bad dreams and what was left of this place within you was just the good. The pure, unadulterated joy that was once your childhood. 

You proceeded to the kitchen to fetch yourself a cup of hot water, and that’s when you heard a knock on the front door. You ignored it at first thinking it was just the wind but the knock came again. Louder, this time. You left the kitchen to answer the door.

“Dr. Doh!” you exclaimed, utterly surprised to see him here at this hour.

“Miss Jung”, he smiled sheepishly, “I went by the guest house but the guard said you were at the Mansion. I just wanted to say goodbye, I’m leaving for Gyeonggi in the a.m.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Uh - I’m sorry, please, come in.” 

He followed you to the kitchen and said apologetically, “I hope I’m not imposing.”

“No, not at all! Never quite realised just how massive this house actually is - It was starting to eat me up. Gyeonggi, you say?”

“Oh, it’s a cursed life as an independent consultant, Miss Jung. I’m mostly living out of a suitcase..”

“I wish I could say differently. So your presence here was requested by Minseok’s team?” You asked as he took a seat at the kitchen table.

“No, I arrived just about a month before the first murder. My parents passed in a car crash three years ago. So I decided to sell the estate and the pepper farms.” He explained, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“Would you like some tea? I brought some tea bags with me. I don’t know which tea it is, though.” You offered, mindlessly pouring hot water into two cups. 

“Sure” , he nodded.

“So did you?”

“What?”

“Manage to sell everything? And I’m sorry - uh about your parents.” 

You didn’t feel sorry. What you felt was an inexplicable weight in your chest rendering you breathless. Your heart started pounding erratically and your mind clouded over with a sense of impending doom as you went about the mundane task of making tea. 

“You seem a little out of it, Miss Jung. Is something bothering you?” He got off his chair and guided you to yours as your legs threatened to give away.

You sipped on some warm tea to steady yourself and said to Kyungsoo, “Oh, no it’s … It’s just this house. Maybe you were right, Dr. Doh. This isn’t a good time. I’m sorry but I might have to ask you to leave.”

Kyungsoo didn’t react. At all. He stood still, eyes fixed on your trembling frame.

“Park Soojin wasn’t his first kill”, he whispered.

“What?” you asked feebly, still trying to get a hold of yourself.

Kyungsoo sauntered over to the kitchen counter and brought you a glass of water. “Pay attention, Miss Jung. Park Soojin wasn’t his first kill. He was sloppy with the first one and it was only by a stroke of luck that he managed to get away. So he planned better with Soojin. Got even better with Jinri.”

Startled, you looked him in the eyes and he gave you a smile that raised goosebumps on your skin. 

Unperturbed Kyungsoo continued, pacing leisurely in the kitchen, a spine-chilling hint of exhilaration in his voice. “His criminal sophistication indicates that he understands criminology and knows police work. Unfortunately, Miss Jung,”, his voice dropped and you suddenly felt shackled to your seat. Squirming, but unable to make any big movement like reaching out for something that was heavy or sharp or both, “The tragedy is that he’s always believed he’s inferior to these women. But -” 

Kyungsoo levelled his face with yours and grinned with a glimmer of victory in his eyes, “for every tragedy, there is a happy ending.”

It took all you could muster to hold it together and dash for your purse to retrieve your cell phone. But you didn’t find it in there. 

“Is this what you’re looking for?” asked Kyungsoo, teasing as he pulled your phone from the inside pocket of his overcoat and handed it to you. 

You tried to turn it on to no avail. Voice as steady as could be, you said to him, “Please, please just leave!”

He took two easy steps towards you and you found yourself encased between his body and the wall. “Well then you shouldn’t have let me in! Tell me something, how could the close protection officer have given me your whereabouts if you dismissed him immediately after Jongin’s arrest? Haven’t you learnt since you were a little girl - always keep your guard up. Think before you speak. Did you think you were invincible?”

He took your hand in his and guided you back to the kitchen table. Eyes brimming tears, body trembling, and mind overcome with dread you followed him as if he were the pied piper. The familiar scent of gingerbread wafted up your nostrils making you nauseous.

As soon as you took a seat at the table, he put on his gloves, and lay a bottle of red nail polish and a red rose before you.

“Just think about how you can be with them again, Miss Jung. And don’t worry...I’ll be gentle.”

***

A/N: YES! you’re absolutely right! i just wanted to write turtleneck murderer Soo -_-

[dickstailcoat]

So, I’m finally near the end again of SNS 1 (who needs sleep anyways) and I already have thoughts when comparing it to later stories he has written, be it in the SNS series or entirely new ones. I’ll provide a more thorough in-depth analysis once my notes are organized and I don’t have to deal with my day-job, but here’s a huge observation that I already see in book 1:

Rob is way in over his head.

From the get-go, we see a feminist character who is not as inclusive as many readers would like to think or feel. Repeatedly, she body shames herself, as if this is all women think about when considering their appearances, and judges other women for their ideals. She defies expectations of women, yet bows down to a man, ignoring that strong pillar of her personality. She preaches inclusivity yet shuns other women in the story who are bound by society and literally have no choice. There is something strange about her, as if she is a hero, but not one who knows the depths of the problems she faces, or the consequences of what her actions might bring.

In layman’s terms: throughout the story, there is just something off.

Eventually, the plot dwindles into some far-off abyss (let’s be honest, since book 2, the plot has gone south), and we get a more and more superficial character who appears to be all over the place in her ideals and morale, and less and less a strong woman. As a consequence, we see that core pillar of her personality, being a feminist, disappear.

This is when as the reader, if you take a critical eye to it, you realize what that ‘something’ is. She reminds you of your brother, father, uncle, grandfather, boyfriend, husband, and male friend. She knows the issues exist, she sees them, she can critically assess them, she even constantly makes light of them, but she doesn’t truly experience them fully as all women do.

Now, I’m a clown myself who often tries to make light of situations; however, I know even I will break sometimes because being a woman sometimes really sucks. I know Lilly hasn’t experienced sexual assault like many have, but she has experienced restrictions and worry over what will happen to her if she doesn’t conform to the expectations. I’m living in an very open society, and I still feel anxious, nervous, and upset over that. I still sometimes feel sad because there will always be a man saying I can’t. This happens to her too – repeatedly – and she barely bats an eye. But, she is a female character, so why doesn’t she?

The reason for this is simple: Rob is a man, and can never fully comprehend the true worries, fears, and issues women faced now, let alone then when they were much more severe.

As you read on, you begin to wonder as a reader: whose voice is this? Is it the author’s or Lilly’s? It is normal for an author to put a little bit of themselves in a character, sometimes even more so! But there is a problem when it is a man doing it to a female character. We start to see the mix of ideals and experiences; we start to see the boundary where a male writer cannot grasp what women go through on a day-to-day basis.

That would be fine initially, perhaps, for any new author. Why should we limit artistic expression? But it starts to blur into the reader’s perspective as to whether Rob himself feels this way. Because in this story, it is one single ‘joke’, and is never dealt with - not once - properly. We don’t know for an absolute fact if he himself feels this way, he’s never made it clear! But it starts to look worse and worse as the stories go on and women are less and less powerful except when they are needed to bring the reader back in from the lost plot, as if to say “Hey look! I do care sometimes!”

The result is an author writing about inclusivity, but instead, it comes across as discriminative. We have a single flat tone, as if someone is pressing a C note throughout the story, and never progressing. I don’t know about you guys, but if Taylor Swift played one single note for her entire career, none of us would be listening. It stays there the entire time, a ruler-straighter tonality of constant comedy, turning and warping the inclusivity into cheap plot devices, and mental walls for the readers that he has to shakily try to break every so often.

With that in mind, after a few books the author’s ‘colours’ start to show if this continues.

I started this series way back in the age of the dinosaurs, and adored it. I still do! I have nothing against the stories themselves or characters, I love me a good Victorian romance, but my goodness – the way the subject matter is dealt with is practically insulting of late!

I decided to go back to SNS 1, and look at it critically, as if I’m back in uni trying to dissect Shakespeare. Worryingly, it’s already visible in book 1, and is excused repeatedly with commentary by the author using what I like to call ‘false empathy’.  An Instagram commenter recently mentioned that A/Ns are unprofessional, and I agree, I think they’re dangerous. It is better to be upfront in the Prelude or Foreword, or shameless about the fact that you don’t care (G.R Martin, anyone?) because this starts to add the author’s view. With Rob constantly trying to excuse things, it makes everyone question things more and more – although perhaps in light of recent events, this is a good thing.

The fact of the matter is, at the end of the day, “This was how it was in the time” is not an excuse to have the main female character constantly beat her appearance and dismiss other female characters whilst her own personality is diminished. It tricks readers into thinking a male author cares - but does he? Can he? Will he ever truly understand?

Probably not, it’s impossible.

However, this doesn’t mean he needs to stop, and that I despise his stories (okay, maybe a little bit 😉). It means he needs to change. It can’t be ‘this is what happened and this is how it was’. It needs to be this is how it was, this is what happened, this is how it felt, and this is it’s impact. It means he needs to read a book on feminism and issues women experience. It means he needs to ask women to gain a view as to how these things actually feel, and to gain insight into how it’s not something to make a 24/7 joke out of for multiple years. He needs to read up on how those who do not fit the particular ‘box’ of discrimination he is dealing with tend to not like it when you constantly make fun of it tactlessly. There are ways to go about it, you can be funny and deal with serious issues.

Instead, Rob has chosen (and I mean chosen, the OG fandom has been trying for years to message and help this get fixed) to continue on this flatlining path where the star of our story is turned into a joke and a male stereotype of women. It is a shame, because Lilly is pretty damn cool, but he conveniently plucks that core principle out of her as the books go on, until she is eventually a husk whose only purpose is to be funny.  

In case you guys ever wondered why the OG fandom stopped reading, stopped being active on the content, and why we only post memes and have turned these two into a running joke, but still keep original Lilly in our quotes, this is why.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Eye of the Storm 8

Warnings: nonconsensual sex (series), unwanted touches, prolonged eye contact which makes me wanna believe in the Church and all it’s saint to ask for absolution.

This is dark!Thor and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a new servant at the palace of Asgard but the job isn’t so easy as you thought.

Note: Yay another chapter of the Asgardian bitch boys causing trouble for our reader (much like @lokislastlove​ is causing trouble in my dms)

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your days with Loki passed swifter than those with his brother. Your work was mostly uninterrupted as Loki left early and returned in the late afternoon with some tasks to attend to as he ate dinner. His orders were few as you brought his meals without prompting and he was content to his privacy upon bathing and retiring. 

In the time you spent as the Prince's chambermaid, you began to think it far preferable. Even if you were a pawn in his game, his treatment almost atoned for his purpose.

It had been less than a week since you had last seen the king and since Loki insisted that the king marry, it was his responsibility to see it through. Every single detail. It was Thor’s way of punishing his brother’s impudence. As the queen had arrived days early, the wedding was pushed forward. No longer scheduled for the day after her planned arrival, it was to be the day of. 

On the day of the nuptials, you brought up Loki's breakfast and he was already awake. He ate at his desk as he flipped through a ledger, an emerald robe around his slender figure. You stood by the door, ready to clear his plate when he was done.

He turned to you as he wiped his hands and stopped you from stepping forward as he turned a palm out to you.

"You know what day it is?" He asked.

"The day of the wedding, your highness," You answered.

"It is," He smiled as he stood and crossed to the large wardrobe against the wall. He pulled open the right door and reached inside. "All the palace staff will be hard at work, in fact I did have to pull a few hands from the streets to fill in the holes in the roster." He turned back, a length of forest green silk hung from his grasp. "My footman Bradin will continue to see to my brother and so I shall require you to act as my cup bearer."

"Cup bearer?" You echoed. "But--"

"Firstly, you must put more effort into holding that tongue," He warned. "Secondly, it is a formal occasion, not some feast, so you shall stand by, diligently, and keep my cup full. I have faith I should be wanting for wine quite often."

"Yes, your highness," You dipped your chin in deference.

"And so you shall wear my colours," He neared with the dress, "I shall provide you a belt as well and you might forgo that stained monstrosity," He pointed to your apron. "Your duty is simple, I've seen you faced with far greater. You will serve me and you will keep silent. Understood?"

"Yes, your highness," You answered.

Loki had a way of speaking which was gentle yet patronizing. He expected what he said to be heard and his desires to be appeased. He was far more subtle than his brother but in a way, it suggested he was far more dangerous.

He held out the garment and you took it from him. You folded it over your arm as he adjusted the belt of his robe and gripped his lower back as he stretched. He turned away, seemingly done with the conversation.

“You may clear the dishes and go change,” He commanded as he strode to the door of his bath chamber. “I expect you ready within the hour. Do await me in the receiving chamber. You might sit on the balcony and enjoy the sunlight in my absence.”

“Your highness,” You accepted and he disappeared through the door.

Those times when you left upon your own had become so foreign and were just another facet of serving Loki which felt strange. You couldn’t gripe however, even if that gnawing in the back of your mind never quite let up. It was like limbo. You didn’t expect to be in the prince’s employ forever and the inevitability that the king would put his foot down made you ever uneasy. It was only a matter of time and the minutes, hours, and days did seem to move quickly.

🌩️

When Loki found you on the balcony staring down at the ground far below, he frightened you. You turned to him and bowed your head. He was dressed in a black jacket trimmed in a similar gold to that around your waist. His dark attire made him look even taller and his green eyes seemed to glow as they carried their usual imperious glimmer. They took you in and he arched a brow.

“Presentable,” He remarked. You didn’t expect anything more as he flicked two fingers in a signal for you to follow him as he swept back through the archway. “The ceremony shall begin shortly. You will go to the feast hall and aid the other servants in the last of the arrangements as I ensure that the bride and groom make it to their vows.”

You nodded, thankful not to to be forced to sit through the long and tedious wedding rites. You’d heard that nobles tended to take hours to read them aloud whereas peasants could be married in a matter of minutes.

He spun back to you and brought his hands up just before your shoulders. You stopped short as he framed you with his fingers and squinted. He snickered as his facade finally cracked.

“You do know my brother is going to be mad at the sight of you,” He slithered. “Oh, I can’t help myself though. He has been rather unbearable in your absence. More than usual.”

You pursed your lips and lowered your lashes. A servant would never dare speak ill of any noble, even if humoured by another.

“Don’t you fret, he will have a wife to keep him in line and she is not the type to abide his nonsense,” Loki assured and turned once more as he led you across the room. He opened the door himself and ushered you through to the corridor. “Oh my,” He shut the door behind him and hovered his hand just beside your arm as he looked at you once more, “I did a terrible job at guessing. It is rather… snug.”

“It fits,” you assured him as you touched the silk across your stomach. “Thank you, your highness.”

“So long as you can pour wine, I suppose it does not matter,” He said. “Well, my dear, you best be off and I must hurry if I am to meet the cleric. Ugh, I do despise weddings.”

He waited until you moved to part. You listened to his footsteps mirror your own as they faded down another corridor. Soon enough you could no longer hear them and as you reached the stairs, you paused. You weren’t stupid enough to trust Loki but you truly couldn’t guess what he was up to.

🌩️

The feast hall was a flurry of activity. Instead of the long benches formerly facing the trestles, each guest was to be seated in their own cumbersome yet elaborate chair, with only a few of the further tables lined with cushioned stools. The golden cutlery, freshly polished was laid out carefully, and silk streamers were braided and twisted along both tables and columns.

Melora was among the hive of workers. She looked you up and down as you helped cover the last table with an ivory table cloth trimmed in silver and red. The king’s chair would be hung with his sigil and the new queen’s would wear her own.

“We’re all very curious about what has become of you. We only ever sight you when you’re sleeping or waiting on the cooks,” She said. “I see the king does treat you well.”

“It is the prince’s generosity,” You assured her. “I’ve since been reassigned.”

“Pity,” She gave a sarcastic frown. “I’ve recently been placed in a new posting as well. I get to sweep the upper floors now, I might just see you upon your own duties.”

“Perhaps,” You smiled, shrugging off the tinge of envy in her tone.

You carried on and found yourself in a sweat as Agnes called for the servants to assemble in the corridor. The high collar of the dress was damp, though even your bare arms felt smothered from your excess. As before, servants were selected to be servers and you were sent to stand at the table just to the left of the marriage dais. 

Loki would sit there with several of the high lords, a generous vantage of the bride and groom. You were suddenly nervous as the other women lined up with their ewers and a silence seeped into the airy hall. It was as if every single servant was holding their breath in anticipation.

When at last there was a sign that the feast was about to commence, you stood rigid and stared at the door along the other end of the hall. Your head snapped back however as another opened opposite it, hidden just behind the couple’s dais. 

You watched as a woman entered, her skin a rich brown and her eyes as dark as onyx. She wore a bejeweled scarf along her hairline, a swath of braids overflowing beautifully down her back. She walked with shoulders back and head high, the king emerged just behind her. Neither appeared happy.

You looked away at once, your eyes on the chair before you, where the prince would sit. The woman, the queen you assumed, Calla, whispered something as a chair scraped, followed by another. You felt the heat of another’s gaze and ignored it. Don’t look, don’t look. You knew it was Thor watching you, even with his new wife right beside him.

The king cleared his throat. “Bradin,” He called to the footman who shut the door they’d come through, “You may permit my guests to enter and have the kitchens commence with serving.”

Bradin voiced his acquiescence and descended from the dias to march across the hall. He had the doors opened and announced the commencement of the wedding feast, though all you could hear was the crowd without buzzing with impatience. You tilted your head and looked down to the double doors as the nobles began to pour in, you kept your attention on them to keep from acknowledging the king.

Loki appeared at the end of the table though you hadn’t seen him amid the influx. He traipsed along the empty chairs and dropped into his with a flourish. He let out a sigh and reached for his goblet, all courtesy for other guests was gone. He held up his cup, an emerald shone from his middle finger.

“Dear maid,” He called over his shoulder. “I daresay such tedium did make me thirsty.”

You stepped forward and poured. Loki turned his cup as you finished and glanced over at you. He leaned back in his chair as he craned to see you.

“I do like that colour,” He mused. “You might keep that dress.”

“Thank you, your highness,” You lowered your chin and set down the ewer before stepping back.

Loki sat straight and watched the other nobles as they searched around for their seats, directed by the servants in livery appointed to the task of sorting the bodies. It was some time before all had stilled and yet they continued to chatter. The ruckus continued until a horn blew from the front of the hall and all looked to find their king standing beside Bradin who held a twisted golden horn.

Thor squared his shoulders and peered staunchly around the room, his subjects in communal awe and shame. He barely looked a man on his wedding day. 

“I will make it brief as we’ve all been so impatient for this feast,” Thor began. “So I will do no more than welcome my wife and queen, Calla, to her new kingdom and home. May the fates make our marriage a long and prosperous one.”

He raised his glass to Calla and drank. Fandral stood to your right and cheered, encouraging the rest of the nobles to break out in an uproar, clinking their cups and hollering. Thor sat and his wife attempted a smile at him. You wondered how he’d so quickly built such a wall between them as the woman hid her irritation with a sip of her own wine.

Servants appeared with trays full of food and the frivolity began. Guests were all too happy to indulge in both drink and roasted elk. Loki picked at his plate as he seemed disinterested in much of the affair. He sent the occasional glance to his brother, you suspected to make sure he had not riled his wife, and then returned to poking at his supper.

He placed his fork down and beckoned you forth with a finger. He grabbed his cup and held it for you to fill. You took the pitcher and poured carefully. You felt a brush along your thigh and then fingertips pressed to your hip. You looked down as Loki gripped your hip and purred a thank you.

The pitcher hit the lip of the cup and you spill some onto the prince’s dark trouser. You righted the jug and set it down as you reached for the cloth napkin untouched on the table.

“I’m so sorry, your highness,” You sputtered. “I didn’t--”

You began to daub at his tunic hem where crimson droplets had speckled and your hand thoughtlessly slipped lower as you tried to mop up the rest in his lap. He grabbed your hand and held it against his crotch, just for a moment, then slowly nudged it away.

“Now, now, your thoroughness does exceed propriety,” He was smirking as you recoiled and his green eyes flitted over to the royal dais. “What shall people think?”

Your gaze followed his and you found Thor watching you. His expression told you he had witnessed the entire disastrous encounter. You wrung the napkin in your hands and apologized once more before you stepped back against the wall. Loki took another napkin and chuckled as he wiped himself dry.

You bit your lip as you stared at the legs of the prince’s chair. You wanted to dissolve into air. Wanted to be nothing. You fought not to show your distress. 

“Oh, my brother is a simple man,” Loki spoke over his shoulder, “Even a wife cannot distract him so long.”

You looked up again. Loki nodded to the royal table and once more you dared to peek. The king had one arm around the back of his wife’s chair and the other fought hers in her lap. He groped her thigh as he pressed his lips to her cheek. His assault was out of place as he barely seemed to notice her at the same time as his eyes clinged to yours. As your gaze met his, he grinned and hugged Calla until she slapped his arm.

“Oh, this might have been a disastrous mistake,” Loki sneered. “But it is no longer my mistake.”

You shook your head and glared at Loki. You weren’t surprised that this marriage was much more than political ploy for him but you were repulsed by how easily he used those around him. You were a servant, you were meant to be used but Thor? His own brother? For all your distaste of the lecherous king, you couldn’t help but pity his familial binds.

“More wine,” Loki called as he raised his cup again. “And this time, do try not to make such a mess.”

You came forward and filled his cup again. Your eyes went back to the dais without thinking. Thor still watched you and his grin only grew as he caught your gaze. The hand not thrust between his wife’s legs went to the back of her head and he turned her forcefully. He pushed his lips to hers, the entire time he never looked away from you. 

You weighed the pitcher and lowered your head.

“Your highness, I should fetch some more wine,” You raised the ewer as you spoke.

“Oh, please do,” Loki bid. “Before our king decides to consummate his marriage before the entire court.”

🌩️

The rest of the feast went on much the same. Loki kept finding reasons to call for more wine and his fingertips found new places to dance as his eyes taunted his brother. Thor was trouble enough as he harassed his own wife who was less than impressed by her new husband. You wondered if it were too late for her to absolve the union.

Thor and Calla’s departure marked the end of the day and at last the guests could retire, many drunk and stumbling. You were starting to think they cared more for the nine courses and casks of wine than their own king.

You followed Loki through the corridors, weaving past the inebriated and the loitering. He seemed little affected by his indulgences or the evening as a whole. Yet the more you stared at his shoulders, you found yourself wholly irritated by him and the royal will. 

You were tired of it all; you didn’t want to be another plaything for these spoiled brats, you’d only come to sweep and change linens. You were entirely ill-fit to do both.

Loki swept into his chambers and you closed the door behind him. He went to the chaise and sat heavily, leaning on his hands as he looked at you and smirked.

“What a night. More amusing than I could have expected.” He said.

You didn’t say anything. You stared back at him and he lifted a brow.

“What is it? You do seem to be holding something back, dear maid?”

“No, your highness,” You lied as you folded your hands together. “I am merely awaiting my next task.”

“I prefer boldness to impertinence,” Loki’s smirk fell, “So I suggest you speak whatever has turned you so sour.”

“I am only curious, shall I ready your bed? Draw you a bath?” You hissed, filled with a haughty breath. “Or perhaps you are more like your brother than you would admit and you’d prefer me on my knees?”

Loki blinked and his lips parted. He nodded and hummed as he considered you. He stood, slowly. His steps were deliberate as he neared and stopped before you. He reached up and played with the collar of the dress around your neck. He leaned in and lowered his voice.

“Not tonight.” He said, “This has been quite the day. You are exhausted. You are not thinking.” He took your chin between his index and thumb and made you look him in the eye. “I command you to go and rest for there will soon be another day upon us and much work to do still.”

[insanehotgirl]

Tokoyami x Reader - "Stress"

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

Pairing: Tokoyami x Gender Neutral! Reader

Requested?: No

Warnings: Angst to fluff, death of parents, like one curse word, hurt/comfort.

Word Count: 1600+

Summary:

Your dad was your idol until he wasn't. When everything comes crashing down, Tokoyami and Dark Shadow are there to comfort you.

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

Being a hero-in-training had it's ups and it's downs. Although it was an amazing opportunity not many had the chance of taking, it became that of a burden to those who took said opportunity.

A burden that was overlooked by the media, overlooked by civilians, and overlooked by kids who wanted what the hero's who were so often romanticized in media had.

Today you felt like one of those kids.

When you were younger, before you had come to UA, you always looked up to your father. He was a pro hero. He was your hero for the longest time too. You're certain it wasn't the same for your mother.

She was one of the smartest women you had ever known, and although you had always looked up to her greatly, your father had more of an impact on you. Everyone loved him and you desperately wanted to be like him. Although your childhood wasn't particularly extraordinary, it wasn't necessarily bad either. Not to you.

You overlooked so many signs. You don't know how but everything went straight over your head. Maybe it was because you were a kid. Maybe it's because you couldn't deal with the fact. Maybe it's because it was hidden under exhausted smiles and sweet treats, both from your mother.

The only thing your dad ever gave you was encouragement to lead a successful life. "Become popular!" he said, so you did. "Become a hero!" he said, so you did. "Become like me" he said, and you're glad that you didn't.

You didn't blame him.

The stress of constantly helping others whilst putting your own health and safety on the back burner got to him like it had many others and you just couldn't blame him for that. Not after being brought up by a false image of him.

He was a good man. He really was at the beginning.

But then everything just fell apart. You knew that partly was because of the stress. But maybe he just had it in him all along and you didn't know?

You didn't.

You don't.

Your mom did.

And now she's gone.

Now they're both gone.

You don't know what to do.

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

You're back at UA after a short break which means you're back to living in a dorm without your parents. It feels different now that they're both really gone.

You sigh, unpacking the rest of the clothes you took with you. You had arrived late last night and are only just now finishing putting your things away. You have your regular classes today and you don't know how you're going to do it. You were the most extraverted kid in class, always talking up a storm with everyone, and offering your help with work when it was needed. You don't know how to go back to that.

But you do know that you'll have to try your best.

You arrived early to Mr. Aizawa's class in an attempt to get used to your surroundings again after being gone. Sitting down, you looked around the room and noticed the only other people there were Tenya and Tokoyami, who were talking with each other in the back.

Though the sight was odd since you don't remember them being close before your leave, you offered a small wave to the duo and directed your attention to your textbook.

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

A look of concern flashed across Tenya's face as he gazed at you. He hadn't expected you to come back so quickly, let alone act so okay.

He turned to Tokoyami,

"Tokoyami, you're quite close with Y/N, do you know if they're alright?"

He paused,

"Or what even caused them to leave in the first place?"

Tokoyami glanced at you before speaking,

"I don't know. Y/N just left without telling anyone, and the only people who would know are her and Mr. Aizawa."

Tenya hummed and sat at his desk as more classmates came in. If it was something important then you would have surely told Tokoyami.

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

The first half of your classes went by pretty fast, and your day had brightened because of the fact that your friends had missed you. You avoided any and all questions regarding your leave though.

Now it's lunch, and after grabbing your food you head over to where Tokoyami was reading. Although you were friends with everyone in your classes, Tokoyami was different. You felt as though you could show your true feelings with him, and vice versa.

He paused mid-page-turn as you sat across from him.

"Hello Y/N."

You smiled,

"Hi Tokoyami-kun!"

"How are you, Y/N?"

"I'm good, how are you?"

He let out a soft huff and closed his book, sitting up straight.

"I'm fine. Though I can't help but wonder why you've been gone for nearly two weeks."

That certainly caught you off guard.

You swallowed and tried not to break down right there and then whilst you spoke,

"A-ah, I just had some family stuff to attend to. It's all over now though, haha."

He raised a non-existent eyebrow but didn't push on the matter, seeming as though he didn't see your mental struggle.

You two continued to catch up and talk about random topics until the end of lunch.

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

By the end of the week you were exhausted and ready to give up. How could you continue to power through like this every week as if nothing was wrong? You've barely even gotten a full night's sleep this entire week.

You sigh dejectedly as you stumble towards your dorm door and reach for the handle, only pausing when you hear some shuffling behind you.

You let out a soft laugh as you turn around and realize that it's only Dark Shadow.

He looks worried–as worried as a literal demonic shadow could possibly appear to be. You approach him slowly in an attempt to not spook him even more.

"Hey buddy,"

You coo as if he were a child,

"What's gotten you so worked up?"

You place your hand against the side of his beak and begin to stroke it softly, which is something you've come to learn is calming for both him and Tokoyami. You find this detail absolutely adorable but you choose to keep that information from the both of them.

He leans into your hand and crouches down so he's at your level while he speaks,

"We're worried about you–you've never left like that. Why did you leave us?"

Though his tone seemed pouty, you knew otherwise. Dark Shadow and Tokoyami shared a connection, both emotional and physical due to Tokoyami's quirk. Had he really been so upset because you left? Your head was spinning at this point, causing you to retract your arm from Dark Shadow's beak and stumble back.

Everything comes crashing down–everything you've built up.

Your dad killed your mom.

Your childhood idol is a piece of fucking garbage and there's nothing to fix it.

Your mom is gone, and there is nothing you can do.

The world is such a fucked place and–oh, god, you can't breathe.

He reached his claws out, catching you before you could fall and cradling you in his arms as he walked to Tokoyami's dorm.

Scowling, he spoke,

"We knew something was wrong. He's just too stubborn to ask you."

All you could do was mumble a quiet "I'm fine" as you were too tired to even comprehend your emotions at this point.

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

You shot up, suddenly out of breath. What the fuck just happened? You look around the room you're in and realize that it's Tokoyami's dorm room.

All of yesterday's memories come flooding back and you realize just how bad this situation truly is.

You kept secrets from your best friend and crush.

You freaked out Dark Shadow.

And now you've passed out in their room.

Great job, Y/N.

Sighing, you begin to get out of bed but are stopped by a hand.

"I don't think that's a good idea considering the fact that it's both 2am and a Friday night, meaning Mr. Aizawa will notice if you leave my room. You also seemed pretty tired when Dark Shadow brought you here."

You let out a quiet groan and rubbed between your eyes in frustration.

"God, Tokoyami, I am so sorry. I swear I didn't mea-"

He cut you off,

"It's fine. Just tell me why you're so stressed that you passed out. All I know is that it's related to your leave."

Your eyes widen as you began frantically searching your overstimulated brain for an excuse.

There's nothing you can say to get yourself out of this and you know it.

Just tell the truth for once in your life, goddamnit.

You've given up. What's even the point in lying to him? It's horrible and you know it. You're tired of always trying to be the perfect person, just let him in.

You admit defeat and tell him everything.

And he's perfect.

He's quiet the whole time you're speaking, only saying words of comfort when you break down in between sentences. Once you've finished your long overdue explanation, he's saddened that you didn't tell him right away but he understands.

You spend the rest of the night in his arms. Your heart is unshielded from his light as it envelopes you; his heart unforgivably loud as he comforts you.

It doesn't take long for Dark Shadow to come out and wrap himself around you as well, providing extra comfort.

You fall asleep eventually, and you know that everything will be okay.

Even if it isn't right now.

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

Okay y'all that was my first MHA fic!

Let me know what you guys think down in the comments!

Stay safe & hydrated!

[jazy3]

Thoughts on Grey’s Anatomy: 17X16

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

I really liked this episode! I loved the scenes between Meredith and Bailey and Meredith with her kids. So precious! I think Meredith is the perfect person to take over the residency program now that Richard has too many jobs as Bailey says! I think she is really going to shine in this new role. In the past I thought her and Alex might wind up running the hospital with him as Chief of Surgery and her as Residency Director. While that won't happen because Justin Chambers' exit, I think it will be great to see Meredith step up and take on the role. Ultimately, I want to see her operate again and be a badass, but since she’s still recovering, I think having Meredith take this on while she recovers from COVID is a great idea.  

I’m glad that we got to see Maggie and Winston disagree on something and work through it in this episode. While I think Winston did overreact a bit when Maggie was upset and a bit reluctant about the wedding planning and said that everything felt like a compromise I'm glad that they showed the two of them disagreeing and working through it because up until now they've been portrayed as the perfect couple. I loved the scene where Maggie and Winston talked about the wedding and then it was revealed that Maggie had arranged for her Dad and Winston’s Grandmother to fly in for the wedding. That was very sweet and they got the actor that previously played her Dad back!

I also really liked the patient that Maggie, Helm, and Richard treated. I felt so bad for her when she told them that her husband had died and her dog had ran away and that she wasn’t good with people. I suspected she was pretending early on because of her loneliness. I was so sad about the missing dog for the whole episode and I was ecstatic when they found him! I’m more of a cat than a dog person, but pets are family. I am also glad that we got to learn more about Helm in this episode and that she appears to have left her Meredith obsession behind. That was funny the first few times they brought it up, but then it just got weird and annoying.

Especially after both CeCe the matchmaker and Carina talked to Helm about it and told her she needed to move on and find someone that could love her back and then she went right back to being obsessed with her. That’s been her whole personality for the past three seasons. Now in this episode we learn that she likes to cook, that she makes a mess when she cooks, and that she likes to watch the news. I think Helm moving in with Levi and Jo is a good thing, but he definitely should have cleared it with Jo first and they for sure need a bigger place.

I really liked the scene with Link and Jo. I like that he called her out on the fact that she obviously wanted to adopt Luna and told her she should stop doubting herself. I was surprised and disappointed that Jo’s adoption application was denied. She's clearly formed a bond with Luna and she was ready to have kids with Alex prior to his departure and she was close to Val prior to her death. I’m curious as to why her application was denied and why she failed the background check. I hope we get a follow up to that because she would be a great Mom to Luna and I want to know what happened there.

When we found that out my first thought was, “That’s illegal!” because here in Canada and in Ontario specifically to the best of my knowledge you can’t discriminate against someone and reject their adoption or foster application because they are a single parent, have had mental health issues in the past, stole a car while homeless or lived under an assumed name while fleeing domestic violence provided they meet the other criteria such as being able to provide a safe loving home and can prove that they are financially stable and have a good support network in place.

I was confused as first, but then my friend Amy and I were talking about it and I realized that I was applying my own context to another situation. Having the right to adopt and not be discriminated against is something that the women’s, gay rights, and disability rights movements here in Canada have fought very hard for. A lot of changes were enacted in the 2000’s and 2010’s to make it easier for people from all walks of life to adopt and foster. In fact, in many cases social services will look for prospective parents who share a child’s background or history because they will be able to relate to the child in a way that a parent without that experience might not be able to.

That’s not to say that everything is perfect and that discrimination and unfair treatment doesn’t happen. It does. People can be sneaky about it. But you do have recourse here. You would be able to contest the discrimination. I’m not familiar with adoption laws and policies for Washington State where the show is set so it’s possible that this kind of discrimination may still be legal there or there may not be specific policies addressing it. If anyone does know I would love to know more as what I’m saying is based on the experiences of people that I know here in Ontario. I do think that Jo will eventually get custody of Luna. They've spent a bunch of time setting this up and dropping hints about this storyline so it would feel hollow to have it end like this. It would also put Jo back in a dark place which she just got out of for the umpteenth time.

I’m interested to see where they go with Amelia and Link’s storyline around him wanting more children and Amelia not wanting anymore. Couples getting together and then realizing at a later point that they feel differently about having children or having more children in this case is a real thing that happens. Amelia and Link started off as casual sex partners which progressed into something more serious when Amelia found out she was pregnant. They've become this beautiful family and it turns out they are a great match, but because they didn't start out with marriage and kids in mind there are bridges that they have to cross at some point. I'm glad that Link is voicing his desire to have more kids down the road now so that they can talk about it.

I totally get why Amelia doesn't want more kids. After what happened with Christopher and Ryan and then Owen, Betty, and Leo and then with Meredith's kids I get why Amelia doesn't want more children. It's a lot of work, she's been through a lot, and getting overwhelmed could impact her sobriety. Link is a good guy and way more sensitive around this topic that Owen ever was so my hope is that they'll talk it out, Amelia will share her concerns, Link will understand, and he'll fulfill that need for more kids by spending more time with Leo or Meredith's kids.

Also real talk, Owen was an absolute asshole to Cristina and Amelia when they didn’t want kids and straight up said that there was something wrong with them because they didn’t want to be with something who treated them poorly and kept trying to force them to have kids that they didn’t want. While it’s great that he gets it now and was able to offer some words of wisdom to Amelia in this episode and be supportive it doesn’t make up for or change the fact that he was god awful to both of his ex-wives because they didn’t want kids and he did. He knew Cristina didn’t want kids long before they got married and he married Amelia without ever talking about his desire to have children and just assumed she wanted that too.

He should really call Cristina and apologize because what the hell? I think it’s the difference between perception and experience. Before when he wanted kids but didn’t have any he was in love the idea and couldn’t understand someone not wanting that. Now that he has two kids he realizes how much work that is and why someone might not want that especially if they are dealing with other issues that could be impacted by having more children. I really enjoyed the patient storylines this week. I had previously read a study about what Amelia is working on and how doctors and scientists have now determined that there are two types of patients who appear brain dead. 

The kind that actually are where their body is still alive but no one’s home and the kind we see in this episode where their body is still alive and they are still in there, but can’t communicate in traditional ways, but can communicate through thinking about different things to answer yes or no questions. There is a special kind of machine that is needed to scan for this and they are expensive but they’ve proven that hospitals make the costs back within a year because the machines allow them to determine which patients are actually brain dead and which can still make decisions and answer questions about their care.

Something I didn’t like about this episode was that Levi chose Nico over Dr. Mason Post the hot Vaccine Doctor. I was really rooting for them to get together and for him to start something new with someone who might actually treat him well and I was so freaking disappointed wand pissed off when Levi showed up at Nico’s place and got back together with him instead of going over to Mason’s. I’m Team Mason all the way! He's a gem. He's attractive, funny, smart, direct, and kind. He's everything Levi deserves in a partner after the nonsense Nico has put him through.

I liked Nico and Levi when they first got together, but after Nico revealed that he lied about being out to his parents their relationship went downhill fast. He's treated Levi like crap ever since and his one-time apology doesn't fix that or do anything to address the way he's acted or fix his and Levi's relationship problems. I hope Mason returns next season, Levi winds up with him, and Nico goes off to work for the Mariners as he was supposed to originally.

My only other complaint is that Meredith and Hayes didn't have any scenes together this week, but it looks like they'll have scenes in the finale so I'm happy about that. My favourite moment of the episode was when Amelia told Owen that Tom had moved to Boston to help Jackson with the changes he wanted to make and Owen thinking that he had been fired said that he hated that there was one more thing he had to like and respect about the guy. I'm not an Owen fan in general, but that line cracked me up! I’m really looking forward to the finale! I’m excited that based on next week’s promo Meredith and Hayes will have scenes together and hopefully we’ll be getting some movement on the world's slowest moving slow burn storyline!

I swear to god glaciers move faster! People have gotten engaged, broken up, gotten back together, and moved to Boston in the time that Meredith was on that beach while Hayes worried about her from afar. So, I'm excited for that. I'm also excited for Maggie and Winston's wedding and to know why her Dad and his Grandmother are objecting. I hope to see Jo adopt Luna and I'd love to see some father-daughter scenes with Richard and Meredith.

Until next time!

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

Garbage’s Shirley Manson: “Being human is to be messy. If you think you’re above all that you’re in deep, deep trouble”

As Garbage unveil their first new album in five years, No Gods No Masters, Shirley Manson talks getting political, cancel culture, and why speaking up is more important than ever…

A metaphorical low for Shirley Manson involved a poster, a car journey and getting dumped. A lawyer for Garbage​’s label Interscope records called and told her she was dropped.

“I was about 40 years old at the time. My mother was dying, I was abjectly miserable, my career was on the skids,” she remembers, convincing herself at the time, ​“You will never again recover, you’re a woman over 40, you’re screwed.”

On the journey home alone after this call, she drove down Los Feliz Boulevard, five minutes from her house, and looked to her right. There in front of her was a shop-sized display poster of Garbage being sold at a yard sale for a few dollars. ​“I looked at myself being sold on the street, literally. And I burst into tears and I slumped down in my car because I felt like everyone could see me. I felt deep, deep shame, which is not an emotion I experience often, for my sins.”

Shirley explains today from her LA home that shortly after that experience she had a revelation: ​“It doesn’t matter if you never get signed to a record label again. It doesn’t matter if you never perform again in public, you can still be a singer, you can still be a creator, you can still be an artist.” Since that moment, her career – and her relationship to it – has been a healthy one. Still, the lyrics she wrote based off this pivotal experience were words she was eager to use in a song for 12 years. Nothing quite felt right… until now. They appear on a heavier highlight of Garbage’s new record, The Creeps (‘I was so upset, I saw them selling me out / Right there on Los Feliz Boulevard’). ​“That song is about not listening to my feelings – that narrative I feed myself is often just as negative and inaccurate as a stranger telling me what to think.”

The capitalistic misogyny of the music industry and the world at large is just one of the weighty topics Garbage sink their teeth into on No Gods No Masters. Tinged with a gothic darkness, it’s a dystopian, slow-paced and angular album, and one that feels timely for all its ​’80s sonic influences. It stands out from their other releases for covering racism and police brutality and wealth disparity. A reoccurring image of white men as undeserving and cruel gods looms large. These themes that have been relevant for decades – if not centuries, millennia – but listen to it and you can’t ignore the fact it speaks to the last couple of years.

Speaking of the pandemic, Shirley is feeling grateful and thoughtful for her own circumstances. As a musician she’s been focused on the injustice in the lack of support for artists on both sides of the Atlantic (“You’re literally considered a nothing as a musician”). In the UK, those involved in the live music industry were encouraged by the Conservative government to retrain. But they’re fortunate, thinks Shirley, if only compared to America, where government furlough money didn’t help those whose jobs were in jeopardy or defunct.

“I’m concerned about all the young musicians who have not received any support from their government, and have been left to rot,” she says. ​“I know a lot of struggling musicians who literally can barely feed themselves. We’ve got a terrible homeless situation here in LA, and I have people living in tents two steps away from my house. And that is a very healthy reminder of my good fortune and my privilege.”

Opening up about adversity faced by musicians – especially female musicians – within the industry is something Shirley has done for years. The commentary around Garbage’s treatment by labels or ageism inadvertently leveraged against her has followed the band through almost every step of their career. It’s a significant part of the Garbage story.

“I think a lot of artists are fearful of speaking the truth,” she says when this is put to her. ​“I just think that the most powerful version of oneself is the most authentic version. That to me is when you have no secrets, you’re not cowed, you’re not scared, because the truth is out. I think people are very frightened that people discover things about them. And that truly does make you vulnerable. When you’re lying and deceiving, you’re constantly spending energy trying to hide your life. And I just don’t have time for that.”

No Gods No Masters is the first major label release from Garbage for years, and unusually – ironically, almost – it’s their most political. Their last two albums – 2012’s Not Your Kind Of People and 2016’s Strange Little Birds – were released independently through Garbage’s own label Stunvolume, which they set up to be free, of ​“greedy corporate interest”, as the band put it in a Facebook post at the time. The decision to return to a label was because they struggled to maintain their footing in the industry without it: ​“We couldn’t really get our records distributed. We couldn’t get on radio; nobody would take our calls. We simply could not compete. We realised that if we didn’t make this leap at this particular moment in time, we would drown entirely.” But returning to the corporate fold explicitly meant not giving up creative freedom. One of the key understandings was Garbage having total control over whatever they did.

But Shirley wasn’t overly concerned about the threat of control anyway.

“If you’re lucky enough to stick around long enough, the economics of [our] sort of discography allow you a certain kind of autonomy,” she says.

So there was no pressure from people telling you not to make a political record, for example?

“I think as you get older, you’re able to parse pressures more effectively. You’re able to set boundaries. You can hold that [boundary] and not fret that somehow you’re going to be punished for that. Because that’s the deal: if you have integrity and you don’t compromise, you will be punished for it. That’s how it works. As you get older, you stop caring so much about that threat and about that reality.”

Back in 2018, Shirley experienced another turning point. She was asked to speak alongside trans black activist Ashlee Marie Preston and sex educator Ericka Hart at an intersectional feminism event and was, essentially, educated herself.

“Both these women are phenomenal powerhouses and they have great minds, agile minds, and they really took me to school. And they were very gentle with me, I have to say, but I was mortified at my ignorance, regarding systemic racism and a whole gamut of things. I determined then I had to educate myself about the black experience that I knew nothing about.”

In these situations, it is often the case that white people get defensive and shut down. ​“I too had a flare up of defensiveness, but I knew deep down, you don’t feel your ears burning for no reason.” Her education involved reading Patrisse Cullors and Asha Bandele’s When They Call You A Terrorist: A Black Lives Matter Memoir and James Baldwin, Maya Angelou and Alice Walker. It was watching The 13th, the documentary by Ava DuVernay. It was learning about the murder of Trayvon Martin and the murders of other black people at white hands, the hands of police.

This drive to self-educate didn’t fizzle out after a brief spell. ​“I���ve spent 54 years, or 50 years, being an ignorant, white privileged woman in the world. And I’ve got a lot to learn, and I look forward to learning more,” Shirley says. Feelings of sadness and shame were mixed with an understanding that she was being compliant in ignoring black suffering, as she was trained and expected to. ​“We’re conditioned to not look, because once you start looking, you can’t turn away, unless you’re a monster or a devil.”

The year 2018 was also when the band started writing for the album, though Shirley says there was no intention for this to be a political record. ​“Nothing’s premeditated, and nothing is planned,” she reveals of when the band get together to write an album. It’s a process of them coming together and simply writing in the moment, with Shirley responding to the music the rest of the band provide. It just happened that it coincided with this reckoning in her personal life: ​“I just allowed who I was in my private life to come out into the record, all the preoccupations at that time, dripped out onto this record, simply because I didn’t put up a barrier.”

Most of the writing happened in Palm Springs at Garbage guitarist Steve Marker’s in-laws’ house. Even for a band as legendary as Garbage, there are financial considerations (“It was free accommodation,” Shirley laughs). ​“Bands now have to be really careful about their economics. That’s why there’s a plethora of solo artists and fewer and fewer bands, because they are hard to sustain. They’re these weird little microcosms that nobody wants to spend money on. We had a limited budget and we were like, ​‘Okay, how are we going to pull this off?’”

They honed in on their long-time influences of Roxy Music, Gary Numan, Siouxsie And The Banshees, The Cure and Talking Heads to create an ​’80s feel. The fact that Butch Vig received a delivery of a brand new drum machine the day they started writing set the pace of the record, quite literally. ​“He didn’t know how to work it,” she remembers. ​“The fact the drum tracks sound rudimentary are just because he was feeling out how to work this machine.”

From its opening track, The Men Who Rule The World, it’s evident this is a record about men who set up and maintain the capitalistic structures that are destroying the planet and lives for the vast majority in work. Mention the fact that nearly 500 people became billionaires during the pandemic and Shirley replies: ​“These billionaires are more powerful than any government in the world. How is that even legal? I said earlier about people living outside my house in tents: it’s heartbreaking, too painful, too obscene.”

To write songs like Waiting For God, a self-explanatory track about racism if you listen to the lyrics, opens Garbage up to getting it wrong. This is a small price to pay for speaking on these topics, Shirley says. ​“If that requires that I be a little discomforted, so be it. If that requires somebody pointing a finger at me and laughing at me or criticising me, so be it. I’m middle-aged, and I’m starting to see the end of my lifespan. And I don’t want to leave this world thinking that I didn’t lift a finger to try and make things better for generations to follow. I want to know that I at least tried to speak up in defence of someone else. As white people, we all have to just get over ourselves a little and be willing to be uncomfortable.”

And why is a fear of being cancelled by people for getting it wrong more important than having a go at making the right statement?

“Cancel culture is such a tool of bullying and again, a tool of shutting you down and shutting you up,” replies Shirley. ​“Every human being, every artist, every icon has made mistakes. You’re not going to find a perfect person in the world ever. And I think it’s so immature and silly to think that you will. And my God, how hard are you being on yourself, if that’s how hard you’re being on other people?

“Being human is to be messy,” she continues. ​“And if you think you’re above all that you’re in deep, deep trouble.”

It’s inevitable that some listeners will think this album has been written in response to the last couple of years, rather than envisioned three or more years ago. While the members of Garbage are pleased they’ve made a record that feels prescient, it’s both an ancient and timeless album: these are the oldest issues known to humankind. But in true Shirley Manson style, her feelings and opinions are disclosed to us listeners as evidence of where she was and where she is.

“I’m sort of grateful for the record,” says Shirley. ​“We have a public testimony of where we stand in this world as people currently. What we’re in disagreement with, what appalls us, and the hope that we have for the future.”

[willcwthewisp]

false god complex | ben & willow

LOCATION: university of maine, white crest. PARTIES:  @professorbcampbell and @willcwthewisp. SUMMARY: ben is more than happy to lend willow a helping hand.  CONTAINS: elements of grooming.

Willow’s knuckles were white as she gripped the steering wheel of her car in a near death-grip, already dreading what was to come. Why had the telemarketing company thought she was a good person to deliver toner? She’d done her best to avoid getting too close to anyone in the office, constantly afraid that she’d end up throwing someone through the flimsy walls that made up their miniscule cubicles. But somehow they’d settled on her to make a delivery that required a signature. She couldn’t even find peace in the knowledge that she’d be able drop the package and run. No- the telemarketer would have to come face to face with an actual person. This was the exact opposite of what she’d signed up for when taking a job that was about being away from people.

Pulling into the university, she struggled for a moment with the box of printing supplies, finally managing to balance it on her hip as she locked her car. One slow and deep breath later, she was steeling herself as she walked towards the closest building. Just find a person. Have them sign. And get out. That’s all she had to do. At least it was later in the day, getting closer to a time of the evening when less students were on campus. Throwing a college student into the quad fountain was also on her list of scenarios to desperately avoid. And it was a rather long list. Why were there so many people in the world? Turning the corner into a hallway, she scanned for any nearby lifeforms, finally spotting the back of a man’s head down the way as he walked away from her. “Um- excuse me!” she called out, her free hand waving with uncertainty above her head as she made an awkward shuffle towards him. “Excuse me! Sir? Sorry- I just- well I’m dropping off this toner, and it needs a signature. Do you think- well would you mind signing for it?”

Thumbing through his mail, Ben scanned the various letters. Hardly anyone sent him physical mail anymore, but he made a point of checking his mailbox once a week. It was good practice to walk through the halls, make a show of being polite and friendly to all of the cubicle dwelling student workers and pitiful staff members who didn’t have access to offices of their own. His office was on the third floor of the building, and while he didn’t have a corner office just yet, he had it on good authority that the next vacancy would be his. Tossing a few pieces of junk mail into the recycling bin, he headed out of the mailroom back to his office. He would finish up some emails and then take home his remaining essays to grade. Perhaps stop by the coffee shop, see if he could arrange a serendipitous meeting with a student--

As he walked down the hall, Ben was caught off guard by the sudden flash of movement and a woman’s voice calling out to him. Toner? What, did she take him as a secretary? It wasn’t his job to make sure the printer room was stocked. But, he offered an easy smile instead and hurried towards her. “Here, let me take that.” He said, taking the heavy package of toner from her easily. “You’re a ways off from the printing room. I can carry this and sign once we get there?” He said with a nod.

“Oh- oh no, you don’t have to-” Willow began, but he’d already taken the package from her hip in a movement so smooth she almost forgot to be nervous about the proximity of him. Almost. Realizing how close she’d come to potentially grazing against the man, and therefore possibly tossing him into next week, the medium took a healthy step back. “Sorry- it’s been so long since I went here, and I swear they moved everything around,” she breathed with half an attempted chuckle, trying to set herself at ease after the close call. “You really don’t have to, though,” she started once more, hating to be any sort of inconvenience. “I mean- I didn’t mind carrying it! And it’s not your job, you know?” As she said the words she finally did a cursory one over of the man in front of her, blinking a few times in quick succession as she began to fully understand just how handsome he was. Oh god- now she was nervous again. “And I mean- you could just sign here, if you wanted! Then I could just take it to the printing room or wherever and set it and leave it there since you...signed for it. And it’s just toner! I don’t think anyone wants to take toner or anything, right? I mean, have you ever heard of anyone ever stealing toner before?” Willow ended on an semi-awkward chuckle, practically begging herself to stop talking before she said anything else that sounded equally, or god forbid, more idiotic.

Hefting the box in his arms, Ben made his expression one the model of politeness and patience. It was irritating to have to maintain his role as the good-nature professor for someone who so clearly wasn’t worth his time. Well. She was cute, in an out-of-sorts kind of way. Which was typically how most women acted around him. “No, it’s quite alright. It’s a heavy box and it’s easiest for me to just carry it while I have it now.” He said with an easy smile and tilted his head. “The printer room is on my way back to my office, so it’s no skin off my back. Two birds with one stone, hm?” He said as she rambled on and on. Incredible. She just kept speaking without providing anything of substance. “No need to worry. And no, I can’t begin to imagine why someone would steal toner of all things. Unless they’ve got a massive printer at home, I can’t see why they’d do that.” He laughed. “Ah,” Just shut up, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by just taking the box from you. You just looked as though you were struggling and I wanted to offer a hand. Or two.” Ben gestured to the box resting in his hands.

“Oh- well...thank you, then.” Willow wasn’t about to argue with a man who was being so perfectly polite about helping her, especially when he looked as handsome as this one did. After all, who didn’t enjoy it when a good-looking man helped you of his own accord without seeming threatening or overbearing? Feminism be damned. “Sure,” she agreed, feeling like she’d be doing that more often as the conversation went on. His words and actions were so confident that they nearly even set her at ease, which was no small feat. “Thank you, again.” She should make conversation, shouldn’t she? It was only polite after he’d helped her. “So you’re...a professor here?” That much was obvious given his mention of an office. “”What do you teach?” For a moment she laughed with him, still somewhat amazed that she’d been able to do so in the first place despite being at risk of telekinetically throwing someone in a public setting. “I guess so. Unless there’s some toner black market that I’m completely unaware of.” It was her own attempt at a joke. “No, no-” she began, not wanting him to think she was upset. “It was nice of you- really. I just wasn’t entirely expecting it and-” She didn’t like people getting close to her. Not when she was a ticking time bomb. “-and I appreciate the two hands.”

“You’re quite welcome.” Ben said with a kind smile he didn’t mean in the slightest. This woman looked familiar, and he couldn’t quite place his finger on why. She looked to be around the same age as him, perhaps a few years younger. Blonde, brown eyed, classical bone structure, but why did she look familiar to him? Perhaps he’d be able to worm the information out of her. “Please, it’s really not a problem. And yes, I am. I teach the classics. Greek and Roman history, culture, and philosophy for the most part, but I dabble in most ancient Western civilizations.” As he always did for the more nervous types-- and this woman struck him as quite nervous-- Ben offered a self conscious grimace. “But, it’s hardly the most interesting field.” He said as he led them through the halls at a leisurely pace. A toner black market. Knowing some of the creatures who roamed this town, there very well might be. “Well, my apologies for startling you. It wasn’t my intention at all. Do people generally let you,” Flounder “Struggle without offering to help? That’s hardly the sort of behavior I’d expect of people here.”

He seemed like a very nice man. Or a well-meaning one at the very least. The more he spoke, the more Willow settled into the situation she’d been handed, figuring there was little she could do at this point if he was going to be so insistent about helping. She just had to keep her distance, and everything would be alright...right? “Oh- well that’s all very impressive sounding,” she replied with a tentative smile, as if she were testing the waters when it came to the expression on her face. “The closest I ever got to the classics or anything like that when I was here were the art and visual culture classes for the eras.” While Ben carefully practiced humility, Willow was already shaking her head in denial of his words. “Oh no- if it’s interesting to you, that’s what matters, right? And I’m sure there’s plenty of people who find it really stimulating.” As she walked along with him, her eyes scanned the hallways, curious to see how her alma mater had changed in the years since she’d roamed it. “No, really- you don’t need to apologize at all. I mean- you were just being thoughtful. And there’s nothing wrong with that at all! Pretty much the opposite, actually. As for other people...I guess I wouldn’t know- I’m not really a ‘delivery’ sort of person, but the usual person was out today.”

Walking alongside the woman, Ben continued to appraise her. She seemed to have calmed down a bit which had resulted in, thankfully, less rambling. Some people rambled in productive ways, providing little insights into their lives, their minds. This woman? Not exactly. She spoke as though she had to fill the air with sound or else there would be dire consequences. “Ah, thank you, though it’s hardly impressive.” Ben said with a shrug. Oh, he was very impressive. Department co-chair, associate professor, and well established within the college at his age? No, he was impressive and he knew it. “Art and visual culture? Are you an artist?” He asked with interest, though internally he couldn’t care less. “Indeed! That’s how I find it as well.” Ben nodded as they continued down the hall. Rounding the corner into the printer room, he set the heavy box on the counter. “Ah, in that case, I’m quite glad I was there to help. It’s never pleasant when you have to take on the responsibilities of others.” He said with a sympathetic smile. He leaned against the copier, waiting for her next move, curious to see how she’d fill this new gap in conversation.

“Don’t say that,” Willow insisted, apparently gaining confidence where Ben carefully lost it. If there was one thing she was confident about it was boosting the spirit of others. “You know something that plenty of people couldn’t even begin to really grasp. Isn’t that impressive?” A friendly nod had her head bobbing up in down as he asked about her, blonde hair bouncing along with the motion. “I majored in Fine Arts when I was here, and then opened a gallery a few years out of school.” A smile grew more comfortable on her lips while he continued to be perfectly amenable. “Well then I’m glad you agree,” she finished with a small chuckle, finding herself more at ease with every moment. “Oh- well I was definitely lucky that you were there to help. And that you’re obviously more than happy to lend a helping hand.” A shrug tugged at her shoulders. “It’s alright- I don’t mind helping.” At least that was usually true when it didn’t put her in public situations that might result in someone getting broken in half. “But um- if I could get that signature from you now, that would be great?” She offered him the little electronic device they’d given her at the office, a pen attached to it. Holding it by the very ends, she desperately tried to ensure that no contact would be made when he took it. 

“I suppose it is.” Ben said and offered a sheepish, apologetic smile as the woman admonished him. So she was one of those types. An optimist, someone who tried to lift others up. Naive. Interesting, very interesting. He couldn’t help but weigh and measure her, even if he had no real desire to lure her towards the way of his Lord. But who knew. She might be able to be of use to him, one day. It never hurt to cultivate “friendships.” Just as he thought, an artist, one of those creative types. “Now that, that sounds quite impressive.” As she held out the little device, she watched the way she kept him at arms length. As though she was scared of him? No, not quite. He wasn’t entirely sure why she was so frightened. “Of course.” Ben signed off on the machine with a smile before handing it back to her. “Ben Campbell. A pleasure to meet you..?”

Willow’s grin widened as the man agreed, happy to see that he wasn’t planning on minimizing his accomplishments anymore for the time being. Why shouldn’t he be proud? She was fairly certain everyone had something to be proud of in their lives, and if they couldn’t see that then she was more than happy to help show them. “Oh no- I mean- it’s not that big of a deal.” Willow fell naturally into the persona that Ben had cultivated for himself over their conversation, a slight blush creeping over her cheeks at his praise. “But thank you, nonetheless.” Relief flooded her as he didn’t offer a hand to shake along with his introduction, knowing she would have only made the conversation terribly awkward as she refused to take it. “I’m Willow- Willow Finch. And thank you for the signature, Ben,” she said warmly, already taking a step back as she reminded herself that she was testing the limits of her telekinesis simply by talking to him. “I hope you have a good day, Professor Campbell.” Then she was starting to head off, wishing she could have counted the man as a new friend, but knowing it wasn’t possible with her current situation. But it had been nice to pretend for the length of the walk down the hallway.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #479

“war sends our sons to slaughter  /  another failed attack; there is no turning back”

Have you ever boycotted something? Yes: Chick-fil-A. Homophobic, transphobic pieces of shit. Has anyone ever borrowed something from you, and not returned it? Yes, a video game when I was little. I was so mad, lol. Do you vent a lot on social media? No. I don't want people to get annoyed with me. What was your first bill you started paying on your own? I haven't been responsible for any bills yet. What is your favorite charitable cause to donate to or volunteer for? I can't/don't do either really, but if I could, I'd probably donate to uhhhh... suicide prevention organizations. As for volunteering, definitely something with animals. Have you ever dated someone who wasn’t at all your usual type? No. What is something you have no patience for? Waiting at the doctor's office. Have you ever received a misdiagnosis? Yes. What’s that you’re listening to? I'm watching Gab play The Evil Within 2. What kind of relationship do you have with the last person you kissed? We're a couple. What is your biggest accomplishment in life? Still being alive. What is one thing that you really wish you could understand, but don’t? Political stuff. Economics. Have you ever been tutored or tutored someone yourself? I had an Algebra tutor the last time I was in college, and I had to strangle an anxiety attack down because I wasn't understanding the material AT ALL and felt so dumb and annoying. I never did it again. What was the last thing you said out loud (singing doesn’t count)? "It's really embarrassing," to Mom. It really is fucking humiliating that my ankles are swollen from walking/standing more and pushing my desk chair back against the resistance of the carpet. That's pathetic. I'm trying to focus on the fact it's good my body is even reacting to moving more, though. Is everything you have on actually yours? Yep. Do you ever just randomly drive around when you’re upset about something? I don't drive, but if I did, that would NOT be my method of de-stressing. What was the last act of creativity you displayed? Writing an RP post. What’s your favorite department in Wal-Mart? Uh, I guess where you can go see the plants and flowers. Do you find kite flying boring? I LOVED it as a kid. I'd still probably find it kinda fun. Do you have any interest in visiting Japan? Yes, but it's not a massive interest. I've heard the humidity can kill a bitch, and I am NOT into that. Have you ever run a cash register? Yes. I sucked. Have you ever worked as a server? No. Have you ever done the Bratz challenge on YouTube? No, but I saw James Charles do it and it was v unnerving, holy shit. Would you rather paint or carve a pumpkin? Carve. What was your worst experience in high school? My depression as a whole. How much did your senior prom dress cost you? I don't remember. Have you ever been in a serious romantic relationship? Three, if you include my current one. Which part of your body is the most muscular? Uh, nothing? What is the first site you check when you get online, generally? KM. Are you good at creative writing assignments? That's my forte. In elementary school, I actually won a I think county-wide creative writing short story assignment. Not to brag, but I've always been very proud of that, ha ha. Or would you rather just do an informative essay? That's easy for me too, but I prefer writing creatively. Are you more attracted to the badasses, or the goody-goody types? Definitely the goody-goodies. The "bad guys" have never appealed to me romantically. Do you raise your hand or participate in class? I did if I really wanted to ask something or was confident in an answer. What is something BIG you want to do with your life? Make a difference, somehow. What do you think of people who own wild animals? Do NOT just casually take in animals from the wild. That's selfish and just generally disgusting. If you're going to keep an animal generally described as wild and undomesticated, you'd better have a license and deserve that license. Know what you're doing and be certain that keeping the animal in captivity is in the animal's best interest for its unique case. Are you good at explaining things, in general? NOOOOOOOOO, I suck at that. Do you like visiting the mall? Why or why not? Not our mall, no. Its stores suck/are extremely limited, and SO much crime has happened there. Do you like window shopping? Why or why not? YESSSSSSS, mostly on Morph Market, a mostly reptile selling hub online. You can browse TONS of breeders and literally thousands of reptiles, especially ball pythons. They even have a tarantula section I like to look at sometimes. If you lost your job/home/etc., who would likely help you? If I'm losing my home, I'm assuming my mom is gone, so my dad. Why did you first kiss the last person you kissed? We were a couple and I felt like I was supposed to. At that time I didn't see him romantically, but I desperately wanted to. Funny how we're back together and I've no reservations against kissing him now. Feelings change, for sure. Plans for tonight? Girt and I will probably play some WoW Classic together. We've started playing that together, and it's lots of fun with him. :') Has anyone seen you kiss the last person you kissed? Actually, no. Have you ever been kissed in a car? Yeah. Do you think anyone has feelings for you? I know Girt does. Is there anyone in your life that knows right away something’s wrong with you? My mom. Who last made you smile? Girt, 'cuz he's a sweetheart. Where is your mother? She's in bed in her room. She feels like shit. Like, you would think she WASN'T vaccinated, though her long-time doctor has said she'd probably be dead without it while having Covid. Would you rather look at clouds or stars? Stars. Think about your biggest mistake, would you go back and change it? I absolutely would. Are you dating the person you last kissed? Yeup. What is the most immature item you own and actually use? Um. Idk. Do you always take a shower after you have sex? I... didn't know people did this? Like I know women are advised to pee after sex, but full-on showering? No. Do you like chocolate popsicles? Oh hell yeah. Are your parents proud of you? They claim to be. I don't see how. Are you interested in the ocean? Yeah; it's inarguably so fascinating. Hot dogs or hamburgers? I prefer burgers. Have you ever been to a Chinatown in any of the cities you’ve been to? No. Have you ever been to couple’s counseling? No. Do you have any dietary restrictions? No. Have you ever turned down a job offer? No. What’s the largest animal you’ve ever had as a pet? A dog named Cali that was a boxer mix. Do you ever pray, even if you don't believe in God? What exactly is the point if you don't believe in God...? Anyway, I don't. Have you ever been to Mexico? No. Have you ever gotten stuck in quicksand before? No. What's the shortest or longest length you've ever had your hair grow? To around the small of my back. The last nest you saw - was it a bird nest or a hornet's nest? I think a bird's? Do you enjoy Jeff Dunham? I don't know if I'd like him as a person, but I do think he's a funny comedian. Who is your favorite character from Frozen? I was never into the movies. I do think Elsa is kinda cool (no pun intended, lol), though. I like that she has her flaws. Did you finish high school? If not, do you plan on doing so? I did. Have you been in a simulator that mimicked a submarine or rollercoaster? A rollercoaster, yes. How often do you go out to eat instead of cooking for yourself? Mom and I try to avoid fast food for our health. We do a pretty good job at it, but sometimes for convenience's sake, we do eat it. What is the largest family of siblings that you know of? This is probably gonna come across as very judgmental, but... it really bothers me. I don't know how many kids she has now, but one of the dance moms from the studio has SO many children; I've completely lost count. Now if you want that many kids and can provide for them, that's cool. But that's not the case. She uses the "if God wants me to have a baby, then it will happen" mentality, and I'm just like... um, no hunny. Poor choices are leading to kids you're not adequately providing for. She uses no methods of protection and literally has twins whose room is a fucking closet. Ugh it just really bothers me. What foreign languages were offered to you at school? A whole lot. Only Spanish and I believe French were offered as in-school courses, but there were lots of online classes. If you were required to take a course right now, what would you choose? Photography. Team Biden or Team Trump? Over my dead body would I have voted for Trump. My vote went with Biden. What is an animal native to your country that may not exist in others? Bison are factually exclusive to North America. Note that bison and buffalo are different. What are some of your favorite autumn activities? Taking pictures of fall scenery. <3 What are some of your favorite winter activities? Going out in the snow. :') Especially with a camera. Do you eat a shit-ton the week before your period? uuugggghhHHHHHH yes Wendy's, McDonalds, or Burger King? Wendy's. What's the weirdest question you've ever asked Alexa? I've never asked Alexa anything. Do you prefer your apple cider to be warm or cold? I've actually never had it. Do you prefer your coffee hot or iced? Y'all know the story of me and coffee. Can you sing the alphabet backwards? I can't. Have you ever sent flowers or chocolates to yourself before? Ha ha, no. Is there any meat that you won't eat? Yeah, fish and ANYTHING that comes from a wild animal. Does your cat use anything other than it's scratching post as a scratcher? When we got him a scratcher WITH CATNIP, the lil butthead ignored it. -_- He scratches the carpet instead. Did you go through a vampire craze before? Are you still going through it? Nah. Have you ever forged your parents' signature on a poor test paper, etc? No. Has a bird ever pooped on you before? Omg, no. I'd die. Have you ever been sprayed by a skunk before? No. Are black jellybeans delicious or disgusting? I HATE them. Have you ever rolled down a grassy hill before? I have! I miss that.

[fantastic-rambles]

Ahhh yaknow what you’re right. I just went back and looked over some of the rod, and I didn’t see Langa explicitly agree to not to skate with Adam. He promised that he wouldn’t quit skating with Reki, but he only acknowledged Reki’s warning to not be reckless. It actually makes a bunch of sense why Langa would be confused by the distancing and argument. I see now why you were upset with Reki’s behavior. It feels kind of like a ‘secret contract’ sorta thing where Reki got upset over a broken rule Langa never realized he was supposed to abide by. And not only is that unfair like you said, but it flipped the situation as if Langa was being untrustworthy to his word when really Reki didn’t trust Langa not to quit skating with him just because of danger/injury. And especially since I’ve seen people make solid arguments for Langa being neurodivergent or neurodivergent-coded, it’s really not a stretch at all for him to see the situation like you did. Langa most likely saw the issue as solely reckless behavior leading to quitting. But clearly Reki’s own jealousy/insecurities added Langa preferring better skaters as potentially leading to them not skating together without ever discussing it until Langa was blindsided during the argument. I would’ve looked a better apology from Reki where he fully explained why he was upset when they were making up. It’s human for his feelings on the issue to change, but that should’ve been better expressed to Langa. Although Langa did a great job of accurately smoothing over what was bothering Reki without that. Maybe that’ll be rectified if he apologizes to Miya. I think Miya deserves one especially since Reki physically shoved him after he opened up about why his actions were such a sore spot for him. I actually thought Miya’s words would help Reki see the other side of things so seeing Miya get pushed was like a “Bro wtf??” moment for me. Again it’s understandable that people act out when they’re angry and Reki was obviously already struggling with his emotions, but it should be acknowledged again how wrong that was. Boy are you opening my eyes to a lot of problematic stuff lol.

Also, I’m very curious as to why you hate Shadow. For me, it’s because I can’t move past that comment in ep 1. I know ppl brush it off as just an (unnecessarily misogynistic) act for his persona, but that woman literally didn’t say anything to him and he insulted her for no reason by using her body as trophy to be defaced if he won. Ew. And just because he’s super nice to the flower shop lady, he does not get a pass. If he’s only respectful to women he’s attracted to and jumps at any other the opportunity to degrade women, he’s still a misogynist. And I’m pretty sure that he already new flower shop lady when the series started, so I don’t think you can argue that his character developed to be better towards women as a whole because of her or that he wouldn’t do something like that again at this point in the story. Especially since the goal of proving yourself as a “strong man” has not historically worked out to men being compassionate with women. (Tho within a vacuum devoid of his other actions, I can appreciate his commitment to a makeup routine)

Oh! And I would totally wanna read that fanfic if you write it!! I’m not even as gung-ho about Adam going to jail as most fans and Adam-haters tbh. Mainly because it’d probably be for political corruption via money bribes which is already kinda common and I don’t think the show has stated him to be doing anything particularly bad with it I don’t think so?? Like it seems to be mainly for the purpose of keeping S secret which is indeed a waste of money and effort when he could just buy it, but on the other hand, there doesn’t seem to be any ill consequences on the citizens the politician represents. So yea, it’s illegal so the jail time is technically deserved. But also like... no harm no foul🤷‍♀️ If he would be getting charged for assaulting other skaters than I definitely think that’s fair, but I doubt that’ll happen in the show just because I feel like no one will actually say anything when the time comes partially due to the shock of his arrest if they’re even involved. And I mean, Cherry was pissed at Adam for getting skaters hurt but still rolled out the hospital and joked like he was fine, so I just don’t particularly see anyone calling him out on it to the point of it being apart of his sentencing. The end of ep 11 with Cherry and Joe arguing about one of them going against Adam just doesn’t sound like condemning him to battery charges to me XD

But yaknow I’ve been loving hurt/comfort type fics lately, so I’d be really interested in seeing Adam truly work and change himself for some type of redemption in that setting. I can see hitting rock bottom as being really good for him given it may provide a reprieve from having to manage his image. Adam is underrated in complexity so it’s always cool when people try to flesh him out more and dive into his inner world. And of course Tadashi is kind of my fave (if you couldn’t tell) so I love anything healing for him as well :)

Yep, I was majorly pissed at Reki for how he treated Langa and Miya. His behavior is absolutely problematic. Not as bad as Adam, obviously, but with everything I’ve said and you’ve realized... yeah. I’m glad he made up with Langa and will probably make up with Miya, but it doesn’t invalidate everything he’s done before. Yes, he’s still an immature teenager, but I don’t think he realizes how messed up his behavior was, even after making up with Langa (the resolution seems to be based on him accepting that he’s not an ace skater, rather than recognizing how toxic his behavior was), so I’m still not satisfied. But hey, it’s probably just me being hyperfixated on trivial details that nobody else even cares about. /shrug

(I’m glad to know that I wasn’t misinterpreting the “promise,” or lack thereof, though!)

And I have two major problems with Shadow. My first--and biggest--problem is, as you’ve pointed out, that he’s an enormous misogynist. At “S,” people have the freedom to be exactly who they are beneath the facades that they show to the world. For example, Adam is someone desperately searching for someone who can understand him, not the perfectly put-together politician Shindo Ainosuke. Cherry and Joe are more true to their “real life” selves, but there are differences in their behavior on the track and off. And then there’s Shadow, the overcompensating “strong man” who threatens to make a guy tattoo “Dumpster Slut” over his girl’s name. So I 100% agree with everything you said about Shadow. He’s a chauvinistic pig.

The second problem is that I honestly think his actions when he’s racing are worse than Adam’s, and the only reason it’s not made out as such is because he’s the buttmonkey rather than the villain. I believe that, as problematic as Adam’s antics are, he does not intend to cause severe physical harm to his opponents. I’ve discussed this idea in more detail in other posts, but in short, even in the most extreme case--Cherry’s--his injuries were far lighter than they would have been if Adam had seriously wanted to hurt him. Death, coma, etc. were all highly probable outcomes of that situation, so the only reason they didn’t happen was because Adam was holding back. Or anime logic. But even anime logic can only stretch so far. And against lesser opponents like Reki, he generally holds onto them to ensure that they don’t accidentally hurt themselves when they’re panicking.

Of course, Shadow doesn’t intend to cause severe physical harm to his opponents either, but he does not exert any control over the situation after he throws fireworks at his opponent or shines a laser in their eyes. We’ve twice seen his opponents fall off the course as a direct result of his actions: Reki in the first race, Harry in the quarterfinals. They could have just as easily fallen off the cliff or slammed into a wall (at full speed) and been badly injured. If Shadow were an actual villain, I fully believe that he would have an actual body count of people who died racing against him (as opposed to Adam’s trail of injured opponents). So it bothers me that people shrug off what Shadow does while screaming for Adam’s death.

As for the scandal subplot... I’m *pretty* sure it’s a lot more serious than Adam bribing the police to leave “S” alone. I think he’s actually involved in some majorly shady/illegal activities politically. Like, in Episode 7, when the other Diet member gets pulled over, arrested, and has his house searched... there’s no way that has anything to do with “S.” At the very least, the two of them were collaborating on something really bad, something serious that Adam lied about under oath, and that’s enough for Adam’s staff to worry about what’s going to happen, especially Tadashi. We don’t know what it is specifically, but it’s definitely a lot more than just passing out bribes to hide “S.”

Lol, I’ll have to see how it goes. Probably won’t start it until after the anime finishes at the very least so I can see how it turns out for Adam and Tadashi, plus I have another half dozen WIPs at the moment and nowhere near enough time to work on them all. xD

[tracynotabi]

Riptide Day 2 / Undertow

September 11, 2021

D-Day.

Kevin, Ivan, Joey, and I were getting a ride from Spencer, who was also taking Narq to the venue, while Robert and Parker got a ride from someone else. Well, at least we didn’t have to walk to the venue. I didn’t pack sunscreen.

At 9am, about half an hour we were supposed to leave, Kevin gets a stomachache.

Me: He just needs to poop. Spencer: The classic.

We end up going to the lobby to wait for Spencer in Narq, which was fine considering we actually didn’t want Spencer, our ride, waiting for us.

Spencer: Okay, Narq’s just using the bathroom rq lol Me: Is he also having tummy problems Spencer: Nah just bein stoner and forgetting to do stuff lol Me: The classic

We go get Chick-fil-A and I’m sitting underneath the dashboard again by Kevin’s feet. I think the employees were very bewildered, as the woman on the other side of the window did a double take. I would, too, if I saw a smaller-than-average person just hiding underneath the dashboard sipping on a cup of Coke.

Some time after I get to the venue during doubles, I end up talking to Jimmy (j u m), when Kevin comes rushing over to me, a panicked look on his face.

Forgot to mention, but Kevin actually couldn’t get all of his poop out before coming to the venue and now it is back with a vengeance.

He tells me that he’s unable to go to any restroom because there were three stalls in the men’s restroom: two were occupied and one was clogged with poop.

He had tried flushing the poop one but it only made it worse. It just clogged more and the water level rose. If he had sat down and insisted on finishing, his balls would be touching the water and that’s a no-no.

He tried asking the front desk for other restrooms, but he was informed it was the only one. He was desperate and you could just see it in his eyes that he was about to break.

Me, using the big, wrinkly brain that I had, told him to use the women’s restroom. He froze, not even realizing that that was an option.

Now before anyone complains, hear me out.

I would rather be in a restroom with a male in the stall next to me, than exit the restroom and see someone standing outside the men’s restroom trying to wait for a stall with a shit stain in his pants. Excuse the vulgarity, but it’s true.

If you’re ever at one of my tournaments and you need to go and no male restroom is unoccupied, for the love of god, please fucking use the women’s restroom. I do not need this mess on my hands and you best believe I’m shoving myself in the men’s restroom if I gotta fucking go expel unicorns and rainbows.

I go to the restroom with Kevin and stand awkardly on my phone to keep watch, because he didn’t want any of the staff members actually seeing him and risk himself getting kicked out of the venue.

That would’ve been extremely unfortunate.

Luckily, nobody else needed to go use the restroom while Kevin was in there and he was able to safely compete his duty (lol).

If anyone is upset at my suggestion, I’m sorry, but I wasn’t about to not provide such a simple solution for Kevin’s emergency.

Anyway, the tournament start shortly after that.

First match I pay attention to is Kevin vs. Wombat. In my head, I think it’s pools so I shouldn’t worry too much. I try to watch Kevin’s sets, but it makes me physically ill sometimes because my anxiety is wracked up like crazy and I just want to throw up. Many have witnessed me walking away and trying to distract myself multiple times at multiple different tournaments.

It’s like that gory horror movie that you can’t keep looking away from.

Besides knowing that I get sick, I figured it would be fine since I actually enjoy trying to support my boyfriend and watch him come out of pools winners’ side. Not meaning any disrespect by Wombat, by the way. He’s great. Just realistic. It’s like how I expect Kevin to lose to Bob.

Kevin loses Game 1.

Ooh my tummy’s doing barrel rolls like the way Twisty did with that pullout bed. I look away but I’m just so distracted by the crowd noises.

I totally get it, though. Obviously, it’s sick that Wombat’s holding his own against Kevin, who is seed 3 of the tournament. I’d be excited, too, if my friend was making an upset on someone else. But Kevin’s my boyfriend, so obviously, I want him to win.

Kevin barely wins Game 2 and I’m like ooooh boy. My tummy’s going to town and I think I gag a little by how sick I feel. Gotta focus on getting Joey his next match. *deep breaths*

When heartswaptv airs the whole tournament, definitely check out the set. It was really good (as far as I can hear, I couldn’t bring myself to watch the rest of it).

Kevin comes over to me after he’s out of pools and I scold him for making me worried.

AND YOU NOW WHAT HE SAYS?

Kevin: Babe, it’s fine - I almost lost to Zeddy at Redacted City and I got 2nd. I’ll be fine. Me: T____T *incoherent whining noises*

Does Kevin thinks he’s fucking cute for saying that or something? I was not amused.

Since I didn’t have to volunteer TO the entirety of the tournament, I bounced around mingling with other people.

At one point, I get a message from Suvir in our group chat about how he, Sosa, and Narq were planning on coming to visit NorCal. Of course, since Narq was already here, I decided to just go up to him and ask.

Me: So I heard you’re coming to NorCal? Narq: I am? Me: That’s what Suvir said. *shows phone* Narq: I guess I’m going to NorCal!

Suvir: Narq doesn’t actually know. Sosa just said he’d take him with him and said Narq would agree to go because he’s Narq. Me: Oh that makes sense why he had no idea what I was talking about.

It wasn’t until around top bracket did things start to pick up. Not too many spoilers, because (1) no spoilers before they upload the vod and (2) I have a terrible memory when it comes to the matches.

I remember holding up Kevin’s phone to stream to our Discord because we had some non-PM player friends who wanted to see and I think Kevin wanted Thomas (ThundeRzReiGN) to give him some advice throughout the tournament. Not actually coach, but to critique his play.

As more and more top players fell, Kevin made it a goal to do his best not to fall into the landmine that was Losers’. So many heavy hitters were large threats to him: Techboy, Malachi, Akimi, Cloudburst...

Not to say that Winners’ side didn’t have their fair share of monsters: Peter, Parker, Kumatora, Twisty, Nogh, Lunchables...

Kevin’s first match in Top 32 was against Bongo, who people sleep on quite a lot. For those of you that don’t know him, he’s a Captain Falcon from NY who actually beat Kevin at Flex Zone 3 in 2018. Kevin had beaten him at Encore, but it wasn’t easy.

Not to mention Falcon is a pain the butt for Mario. Unfortunately, the match was not recorded (as far as I know), and it was a very exciting match from what I heard. I avoided watching it because based on how long it took, I knew it had to have been a Game 5. During that time, two matches have been finished on “stream.”

Kevin had said his match against Bongo was the toughest one he had - not to discredit his other opponents, of course - but according to him, it was the scariest and closest. Also the threat of being put into Losers so early would’ve made the climb to Top 8 a lot harder.

His overall goal was actually to make Top 8. Despite being a third seed and rank 5, what I’ve noticed about Kevin is that he does have doubts about himself quite often. He’s never complacent in his opponents and worries all the time about being upset and I don’t think anyone puts more pressure on him more than himself.

As I watched my friends progress through bracket, all I can think is there’s not much I can do. I don’t understand the game very much, despite my heavy involvement in the scene. In fact, more often than not, I believe I understand the game the least compared to everyone else.

A tangent from the actual tournament itself is coming, but I think I should address why I’m even in this community:

While everyone loves the game, I love the community behind it. I find it worth it to sit/stand in one location for hours at a time because it allows my friends to enjoy the game they love comfortably without worrying how the tournament is progressing. They can focus on their own growth and passion.

I think what I see is completely different. Like I said, I don’t really understand this game - I can’t differentiate uairs, bairs, d-smashes, etc. I compute it in my head, but can’t visualize it. I don’t recognize most combos - in fact, more often than not, I’m sitting there just staring at the screen kind of blankly. Sometimes, it does make me wonder if I really am part of this community because I don’t really understand the game.

I can’t say I particularly care too much about the game, but I understand how much of an impact it’s made on me and for that, I’m very thankful for this game because it’s led me to some great people.

Back to the actual event and less sap. lol. Is anybody still even reading?

For something put together in a mere two weeks, Trin and their team did an amazing job. Three recording set ups, graphics, a pot, a venue... props to them for gathering the scraps and making a whole out of it. And to think we almost didn’t go.

Madeline (Swanner) ended up coming and it was honestly so good to see her. We aren’t particularly close, but she’s someone I’ve come to care for and just want happiness for her.

Major spoiler, but I don’t think anybody who cares about PM/P+ doesn’t know Kevin won the tournament.

Everyone expected a pop-off, but Kevin just sat there, crying.

I don’t think there’s ever been anything that Kevin has been more passionate about. He loves this game; he loves this community. Never did it ever occur to him that he would win.

I wish I could say more, but honestly, him winning stunned me speechless. And if you didn’t know, the first thing he said after was that he had to call his mother.

His mom is one of his biggest supporters and I love her to death. She has such a huge heart and has never, ever frowned upon Kevin’s love for the game, whole-heartedly supporting it.

I hugged Maddy, because I can’t even imagine how heart-breaking it must be for her to see what could have been on the mainstage. I imagined how much it must’ve hurt her because she just loves the game and the community, but to see it constantly be torn down by Nintendo and her unable to do anything... Give Maddy a hug and thank her if you see her. She deserves the world.

We ended up walking home with PNW, Bob, Mar, Bongo, Cameron (LoyaL), Ivan, and a few others, honestly too dark to completely see and name. It was a very nice night.

We did, however, pass by the rundown house that definitely looked like if we were to talk in there, we’d be killed by the axe murderer that lived there.

Kevin also lagged behind a lot because his phone notifications were going off like crazy and I was worried he was going to just get lost in the darkness or get hit by a car. Stop looking at your phone when you cross the street, dammit.

We got back to our hotel room and ordered pizza - it was bad. God-fucking-dammit, Ohio, why do you suck so much? Kind of a shitty dinner to end the day on, but nothing else was open at 2am. FeelsBadMan.