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irelandseyeonmythology · 3 years ago

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I don't know too much about Imbolc, I've got to say. Are there any stories that really feature Brigid outside of the Christian saint's story? And are swords apart of her purview/story in any way, or was someone messing with me?

Ah, very sorry it's taken a bit to get to this (and to everyone else in the asks: I haven't forgotten, I promise, the semester's just kicking me in the back. Repeatedly.)

But this is something that I actually can discuss!

So, the figure Bríg shows up...relatively little in the medieval material. That doesn't mean she wasn't important, but it does mean that there just...isn't that much to go on, which means that the modern portrayal of Bríg overwhelmingly draws from the saint, not the goddess.

So. Let's discuss the attestations that we do get.

9th century - Cath Maige Tuired. Now, much has been made of this appearance, but, when you read it without any preconceptions, you realize that Bríg just...is not a major presence in this text. She undoubtedly gets one of the most poignant moments in this text and, arguably, one of the most poignant moments in medieval Irish literature in general, when she keens for her son, Ruadán, but...that is her only appearance. And if it seems like I'm hitting on this point rather hard, it's because I've seen people say that she is an abuse victim in the text, that she's in an arranged marriage, that she's a sovereignty goddess, etc. etc. People have written entire books that are designed to make Bríg, in this one ninth century text, as pitiable as possible, often with a side note of removing any hint of agency. And...in reality, we don't know what the author had in mind. We don't even know that she and Bres WERE married in this text, at least in the most formal way a couple could be under the law -- it just says that Ruadán is their son.

(And, frankly....as the #1 Verified International Bres Stan...if there is one thing that I could impart to people, it's that there's no evidence, in CMT and in the medieval tradition in general, for Bres being a bad husband. Literally all of his interactions with the women of his family is him relying on them for advice. He literally takes them more seriously than his father. That is a side note but please burn Abusive Bres with fire)

And, importantly, this section isn't really referenced elsewhere. I suspect, along with the Míach episode, that it was actually hastily added, because it doesn't really reflect the tradition anywhere else.

This is the entirety of her appearance (from the Gray translation):

Bríg came and keened for her son. At first she shrieked, in the end she wept. Then for the first time weeping and shrieking were heard in Ireland. (Now she is the Bríg who invented a whistle for signalling at night.)

Now, what I will say is that there is something to support the association with keening here -- In the dindshenchas of Loch Oirbsen, we see her ALSO inventing the practice for Mac Gréine -- could this be the source for the CMT account? Mac Gréine certainly has more of an impact in the world of the Tuatha Dé than Ruadán, as one of the last three Tuatha Dé kings in Ireland, he certainly seems to have an impact, even though his presence begs the question of what he would have looked like before the 11th century or so, when the pseudohistories became big. Alternatively, could the CMT account have been transferred over to the Dindshenchas (since Dindshenchas material is often later and sometimes deliberately references earlier material)? But, if so, why? Why Bríg? Why keening? (A good article on it can be found here -- also in John Carey's "Tuatha Dé Miscellany")

The only conclusion I can draw is that there WAS a strong tradition around Bríg and keening. It might not have been Ruadán OR Mac Gréine who was the original target, but, regardless, we see two independent attestations.

In Cormac's Glossary (Sanas Cormaic), she's described in what Mark Williams describes as "the most exalted and specific terms used of any Irish goddess", saying that she is "Brigit the female sage of poetry (or woman of poetic skill), i.e., Brigid a goddess whom the filid used to worship...Therefore they used to call her goddess of poets, whose sisters were Brigit the female physician and Brigit woman of smithcraft, daughters of the Dagda, from whose names almost all the Irish used to call Brigit a goddess."

Now, this is interesting on multiple levels: That this appears to be coming from the filid themselves, that this could only be done retrospectively (they USED to worship her, keeping her safely as an artifact), and, of course, the notion of Brigit as being one of sisters, which doesn't show up anywhere else. It could be that she DID have sisters, or it could be an attempt at rationalizing Brigit having multiple functions. I try to be very careful when it comes to taking Cormac at face value -- his writing is useful as far as showing off what a medieval Irish writer THOUGHT, especially with regards to pre-Christian traditions, but he is still a medieval Irish writer. I obviously do believe there's something to what he's saying -- I don't believe...that he believes that he's writing misinformation, and the fact that he's writing parts of this in Latin indicates, to me, that he was nervous about what he was writing about. It's a useful account, but I would also compare it against the other accounts.

The ~11th century Lebor Gabála Érenn lists Bríg and Bres as the parents of the Trí Dé Dána (The three gods of skill), which further heightens that idea of Bríg as being associated with the learned class and what Carey, in his article "Myth and Mythography in Cath Maige Tuired" labels as a "pantheon of skill". (This is why Bríg is sometimes portrayed as being married to Tuireann -- in reality, she's never actually listed as Tuireann's wife, she's always associated with Bres, but because the Trí Dé Dána as the sons of Tuireann were merged, and there's generally...not that much discussion of Bres and Bríg's other children, people assume that her being the mother of the Trí Dé Dána = her being married to Tuireann.)

So. That's it. All we have. All the references we have to Bríg, daughter of the Dagda. For what it's worth? I do believe that she was a prominent figure, likely. At least, in the areas where Cormac was writing from because I do NOT believe that he would go into that much detail for a nobody (though...see Anu for an example of how a minor goddess can be inflated to a divine mother figure). But, at the same time, there's just...so much we don't know. I do think there's something to the association with poetry, I do STRONGLY believe that there's something to the association with keening, and I even agree with Cormac with the associations with healing and smithcraft (there's your swords!), but we just...don't know.

(And, of course, to anyone whose practice involves Bríg...my usual disclaimer: I'm not a religious expert, my job is not to tell you how to worship her, and I can't comment on your relationship to her. If you believe that she is pulling you to, say, worship her as a spring goddess or a fire goddess, I won't tell you you're WRONG, all I can say is that there just isn't anything in the surviving sources from medieval Ireland to suggest that that's how she was historically worshipped.)

#irish mythology #bríg

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secretsandwriting · 3 years ago

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So I’m testing some new things out with this so you guys will have to tell me what you think!

I’ve also come to the conclusion that while Timothee isn’t my favorte celebrity I like writing for him.

Also, I have no idea how movie premieres work so this is really just a guess and could be completely wrong.

Word Count - 1609

Beta Read - by google docs

Navigating through the crowded streets of New York was getting to be something you were good at. Moving there had definitely been a culture shock but after getting used to it, it was pretty nice. But now, you needed to get coffee and work on your French for one of your classes.

Ordering and setting yourself up, you started the assigned video and prayed it would make sense and you wouldn’t have to add another hour or two of study to your already full schedule. But as fate would have it, it sounded like gibberish.

Restarting the video to try again, you were pulled out of your studies by a burning sensation going down your arm. Pulling out your headphones you looked down at your arm to brown soaking into the sleeve.

“I’m so sorry!” The guy in front of you looked familiar but due to his mask it took a moment for it to sink in. Timothee Chalamet. He was an actor, but that wasn’t important. What was important? He knew french.

“That’s not important. Do you have any free time right now? I know you know french and I need to learn it and this makes no sense and it’s due in two hours.” You definitely caught him off guard, but he checked his phone.

“I have an hour.” He pulled a chair over and you handed him one of your earbuds. For the next hour he helped you, he was a lot better than the video your teacher had given you.

“Here,” he handed you a slip of paper. “If you need more help just text me and I’ll help when I can.”

“Thank you! With your help, I’ll at least pass.” He laughed and you said your goodbyes before he went on his way and you worked on finishing the rest of your homework.

While you worked, you didn’t notice the girls in the corner watching you with their phones out and slightly pointed at you.

The next day, you almost regretted asking Timothee for help when you woke up to your phone being blown up by friends and social media. There were multiple pictures of you and Timothee as well as multiple dating theories. One of the notifications stood out, Timothee had messaged you on Instagram.

You didn’t really talk until your next assignment came and you texted him about it. Together you decided to meet at one of the libraries. This time you knew that you would be spending time with a celebrity and people would notice so you made sure you at least looked alive. That way if there were pictures posted online at least you wouldn’t look like too much of a mess. Apparently Timothee noticed.

“You look nice.”

“Well, the chances of pictures being taken are pretty big so I at least want to look alive and not like I just rolled out of bed.” He snorted and you chatted for a few minutes before getting to work.

This time it was a bigger assignment so it took a few hours instead of one. But it didn’t seem to be so long, it felt like time had flown by and it was finished immediately. Timothee was interesting, you two could have fun but when needed it could be serious.

So when you split ways and Timothee started texting you an hour later, you didn’t feel like he was trying anything. It just felt like you were talking to a friend you had known for years. Then, you had plans to hang out two days later when he was free. The plan was to got to a park and play with kids and act like a kid, simply to feel like you didn’t have so much on your plate and could just have fun for an afternoon.

The interview he asked you about, was before you were meeting to go to a park and act like you were children, not adults who had jobs and college. But that was the plan, and exactly what you did.

The two of you ended up chasing each other until all the other kids at the park wanted to play with the two of you. The parents watched the two of you close when you played with them but that was to be expected.

Timothee was good with kids. Not just good, amazing. All the little girls were absolutely in love with him while all the boys were amazed by how strong he was.

However, as most people know. Kids have no filter, therefore they ask any question that comes to their brain. Hence the 30 different times you had to tell them that you weren’t dating and you were just friends having fun. Some of the parents seemed to think so too, one of them basically told you.

“Thank you for playing with Maggie, she had a blast and she’ll probably sleep well tonight.” The lady looked relieved at the thought. “You and your boyfriend would be good with kids if you decide to have them.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. We just met a month ago and we just came here to have some fun.” She nodded but you could tell she didn’t believe you. Trying to ignore what she said you turned and went back to playing with the kids.

It was after two hours of playing different games, the two of you decided that you were out of energy. Timothee offered getting a meal and you agreed. And that’s how you ended up in a Mcdonalds.

For the next few months, you would meet up for assignments or just to hang out. The press had a hayday with it but after a while it was easy to ignore and then it became more fun to do funny poses every once in a while.

Then he had to go work on a movie so your contact was left to text, phone calls, and facetime. It worked but it wasn’t as good as meeting in person. He still helped with your french until the semester was over part way through his movie.

“Timmy!!! I passed!!!” You held up your phone to the camera on your computer so he could see through his screen. It was amazing and you owed it all to him. Last semester you had barely passed and that had been with 4 times the amount of studying then you had done today. Timothee was godsent.

“Yes! You did it!” You celebrated for a little bit before he got serious. “Y/n, since you passed I know what we can do to celebrate. When this is over, you should come as my plus one to the movie premiere.”

“The movie premiere?!” He nodded, you could see how nervous he was in his eyes. “I have one question.” He nodded, waiting for you to ask. “What am I supposed to wear.” He snorted.

“I’ll talk with my manager and see what he says.” So that was the plan. You kept talking with him, but now it was less about school and more for the fun of it.

When the movie premiere came close Timothee got an answer to your question. Though he almost seemed hesitant to tell you.

“You just have to go get measured and go to a few fittings. The brand making my suit is making you a matching dress.” You would be matching with Timothee sure, you were going as his plus one, or date depending on who you ask. But brand? This dress sounded like it was going to cost more than your college tuition.

“Ok, when and where do I need to go?” He gave you his manager’s private number so you talk straight with him and get all the details. Little did you know, that that was the beginning of the storm.

Somehow it got out that you were going with Timothee and even getting matching outfits. Soon, your phone was being blown up by people trying to get details and even shows asking you to come on and talk about it. Timothee’s manager called you and offered to be your manager until this all calmed down, mostly because this affected Timothee but the offer was still appreciated and accepted.

He texted you a link and told you to post it in all of your public social media bios titled ‘Manager’s contact’. While it wasn’t something most celebrities did, you had just been dragged into this. It would start as a base line until things were figured out.

Through this mess, Timothee kept apologizing even when you said it was ok and it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. You thought the manager would be enough but then you ended up sharing Timothee’s booking agent too. Apparently everyone wanted to talk with you.

A few days after agreeing, you learned that the episode would be realised a week before the premiere, but hopefully it would go well. You were also told that Timothee would be doing the interview with you which made you feel a lot better.

Timothee came back the day before you had to fly to California so you were going to let him take the day to rest because frankly it was a lot, but he showed up at your door with his suitcase. He hadn’t even gone home.

“Timmy! What are you doing he-” He cut you off.

“Can I kiss you?” What? That wasn’t what you expected. While you stood there staring at him completely confused, he started shifting around a little bit and playing with his hands.

“Yeah.” That’s all it took for him to get his confidence back.

Request:

Hey, I really love your writing.

Can I request something with Thimothée Chalamet? Maybe like they meet at a coffee shop and he accidentally spills his coffee on her and then they become friends and they progressively fall in love with each other? If you can’t I understand.

Thank you 🤍

#timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x y/n #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet

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mirclealignr · 2 years ago

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I'm in a depressive state and it's only getting worse by the hour

I have a 12-15 page exam paper due to the 30th of September and haven't started yet. During the consultation with my professor we came to the conclusion that the text I want to work on is extremely difficult to do so bc there's literally no academic research on it and just some ratings and book critics on the author himself I need to have the paper done by the end of next week bc after that I'm going into a 3 week internship at a school for 2 other exams (portfolios for teacher stuff) and I don't know where to start and how and I'm just so overwhelmed by everything bc I'm already in my 7th semester and if I don't pass these exams I'll lose my financial support from the government and if I have to take on a job then I won't finish studying by the time I want to BC I'd have to postpone so many seminars and lectures BC I need to study 3 subjects to become a teacher and I'm on the verge of just quitting everything but I'm a working class child and I don't want all those years I already spent at uni to go to waste just because I'm such a lazy procrastinating person

Please if you or your followers have any advice on what to do I'm begging

okay first, you probably need to take a break and get yourself a glass of water and just take a step back. Because the more you try and do this and stress yourself out, the worse it’s gonna be. You have come so far and overcome so many essays exams and difficult deadlines—you can do this too. You absolutely have the ability to smash this essay and do everything else that you need to do. I believe in you.

but that sounds like a really difficult situation. Is the text that you’re doing the only text you can do your exam on or is there another one you can do without losing a significant amount of time? If that is the only one you can do, you might have to just go with the reviews on the author himself because that might have things like whether he’s an accurate writer, whether his views are adopted by a large audience or whether he’s quite controversial. It might not though, i don’t know. Your opinion counts too, though. But I mean it is a really difficult thing to write a paper without any reviews on what you’re writing.

are there any services that your university or library offers that help you with essay writing? Because I booked a slot last year when my exams were coming up to talk to a woman about where I was going wrong with my essays and what I could do to improve and she also looked at one of my essays that I had already written to critique. I was doing well but I wasn’t getting 100% on things so I knew there were places I could improve. it was only an hour or so but it did help and my marks did go up and they did offer advice on what I could do.

I know this sounds obvious and it does sound like you’ve already done this, but speak to your lecturer & your academic advisor. I don’t know what you call that in your school but we call it an academic advisor. you could also speak to the head of the course to get some advice.

and when I don’t know how to start an essay, I literally just start. And I don’t mean that to sound ridiculous, but I just write something down no matter how bad it is, no matter how bad the english is, and no matter how stupid the answer is. but as long as I have a baseline and something to build on, I can go back and edit and improve and better the arguments. Plus when i’m writing this i usually get into the groove and things start coming to me. Maybe write down everything you know about the topic and could include, write what you know about the author and definitely read those reviews even if they are just about the author, they might have something useful in there.

When it comes to procrastinating, I have been there, I am there. I am one of the worst at procrastinating. Something that has really helped me, is scheduling my day from the tiny little things to the really big things. I even put in to take my pills, to read for 10 minutes a day, to make my bed, all the way to start my essay, apply for jobs, do my interview. everything, I put everything in there. i’ve even put in when my flights are, when my university lectures are and from what time to what time. I know that it’s all online, but it’s easier to see it in my planner with everything else that I have to do that day.

wishing you the best and sending you luck !

#hope this helps #people feel free to add on

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braceletofteeth · 3 years ago

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I was tagged by @yohanisms, @sofarraway, and @onaiclockwork. It was nice discovering more things about you three! Thank you for remembering me 💙

Rules: Tag 9 people you’d like to get to know better!

Favorite color: Gray.

Currently reading: Story time! I traveled with a 2-in-1 book to my mother's house, to read during the holidays. It contained the first two books of The Mediator series. 12-year-old me thought the books were cool and I wanted to know why (my conclusion: me and her have very different tastes). I read the first, but not the second, and forgot the book there when I came home. It's on the other side of the country, and now, since I haven't read the second, I can't read the other four books of the series that I do have here :D

Should start something else. Really. There is about 40 different books here that I've never read. I feel too tired to start a new story though, so I'm currently just reading fanfics, with characters I'm already familiar with, whenever I find the time. The last one was All Along The Watchtower by memequeen1147 (and it was fun seeing Jongwoo being the one stalking Moonjo for once :D).

Last song: Hari – Gwiyomi Song (is playing at random as I reach this topic. The timing is horrible but hey. I've been listening to this song unironically for the last seven years. It hasn't annoyed me yet).

Last series: I haven't initiated anything voluntarily since I finished Bad And Crazy (I MISS THEM. Guess who cried watching the last making of!), but my brother is making me watch this karate show called Cobra Kai. I feel like punching all the characters presented to me, but, despite of that, everything is fun with my brother. Also, I've never seen any of The Karate Kid movies, but he told me it wasn't necessary to understand this sequel (and it really isn't, for what I've seen, but it feels like I'm breaking some unspoken rule).

Sweet, savoury, or spicy: Sweet >>>>> Savoury >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Spicy.

(Can you tell which one gave me minor death experiences not in one but in multiple occasions?).

Currently working on: My french. The dreadful green bird pecks me in the eye every day in order to make me take small steps ahead even when I don't feel like it. // My health. Tried to donate blood today, but the doctor there said I couldn't, so I better take care of myself if I want to go back to the regular donator status. // Trying to find time between fifth semester of college, fourth semester of university, and all the stuff I wanna do, like folding my clothes and finding parallels between Strangers From Hell and every other media in history.

Post the first GIF when searching your name:

Me and @scarefox were really excited about something SFH-related when this gif was used. I think it was about the prequel/spin-off (by the way, WHEN! WHEN, OCN??? WHEN!!!).

Favorite season: Unfortunately, where I'm from we only have two seasons. The one in which you get a taste of hell, and the one in which rains every day. The rainy weather makes it hard to get up but the heat makes it hard to think. I like the rain more.

Time to tag 9 people... @hwiyoungslesbiangf @loveforseo @smiley-wookie @jentonic @inhokki @bobafvcks @mangodelorean @anocturnaluniverse @softneomirotic

I usually try to pick people that might want to participate, but this time I prioritized the ones I've not known for long/don't know much about*, but enjoy seeing around. I just wanted to let the nine of you know you're appreciated, but go ahead and have fun doing it if you'd like to 💛

(*This doesn't apply to you, @softneomirotic, you're my longest friend here! I just like to tag you in everything and see you talking about the stuff you like 🥺 please understand).

#tag game #yes of course I know all the 6 steps of the gwiyomi song.#I can perform it in front of anyone. literally. anyone

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sprnklersplashes · 3 years ago

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songwriter!janis fic (unrequited crush, no-very-happy-ending)

also on ao3

It all started because she loved Taylor Swift when she was in middle school. Who is she kidding, she still loves Taylor Swift, but that’s where all this began. A middle school girl’s obsession with Taylor Swift. A confused, sad girl with a broken heart and smudged black eyeliner, finding refuge in lyrics about loneliness and anger and revenge. They became anthems for her, mantras to mutter when the warzone of middle school became too much for her.

“Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean.”

“Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

“I can still see you, this ain’t the best view.”

It amazes her. It’s honestly as if Taylor Swift has managed to look into her life and given her a bundle of songs for whatever she needs. For when Regina has thrown her one too many snide looks, for when she’s standing at the door of North Shore High on her first day, for when she eats lunch alone, for when her mom is the best mom she could have asked for, for when she and Damian are lying on the grass in her backyard, staring up at the sky, laughing at absolutely nothing. The songs become the soundtrack to her life, the chords and those raw, honest lyrics an emotional outlet she so desperately craves. Taylor, and her songs, become a confidant, almost a close friend who always knows what to say.

With all that in mind, perhaps it was only a matter of time before she asks for a guitar for Christmas. She’s fourteen, braces and a slight lisp, and jumps up and down like a mad woman when she sees it under the tree.

She practices for three days straight, until her fingers bleed, but Should’ve Said No is the first song she learns off by heart. She yells the lyrics with maybe a little too much passion, but her parents applaud her nonetheless.

Like she said, that’s how it all started.

Because that same Christmas, she realises that screaming her feelings while playing guitar actually feels pretty cathartic. And that if it worked for Taylor Swift, it could work for her. So she writes stuff down, plays around with chords and strumming until the beat on the guitar matches the one in her head. She grabs a page and a pencil and writes and re-writes her innermost thoughts and feelings on the page until they sound the way she wants them to. She plays around with rhyme schemes and structure and everything she’s been taught about in English class, and a thrill runs through her as she does so. It’s the same breathless high she feels when she paints or draws, the rush that comes from creating something.

Her parents sit on the other side of her bedroom door, no doubt exchanging worried glances as she repeats the same verse, same chorus, with only a word changed. She watches them when they think she can’t see, peering through the crack in her door. The conclusion they seem to come to is ‘well, as coping mechanisms go, it’s pretty good, and she’s happy, so who are we to stop it?’.

It takes her four days to finish her first song. And it sucks. But she keeps it, writes down the lyrics and chords in one of the few empty notebooks she has, and there’s no going back from it now. She writes, and she writes, and she writes, near enough every day. She likes to think she gets better with each one. She learns more chords, buys a cheap ukulele the summer after freshman year, tries her hand at piano during a particularly difficult few weeks. She doesn’t plan on doing anything with them. They’re just her little pieces to hold on to. Her therapy sessions outside the carpeted office.

No-one knows about it. She has a reputation to keep up, after all. The loner-by-choice, too-cool-for-school, aloof art freak. Everyone has their roles to play in the ecosystem that is high school and, much as she hates the entire system, that is hers to play. And she plays it well, if she may say so. The fact that hardly anyone knows her past that facade suits her just fine. After all, if people think she doesn’t care, she can’t get hurt. No-one needs to know that Janis Sarkisian actually has feelings.

Even less need to know that she writes songs about said feelings.

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By the time she reaches her junior year, she’s onto her third notebook. She keeps them tucked away in her sock drawer, expertly hidden so only she can find them. Damian teases her about it, calling her “the protagonist of a Disney Channel Original Movie”. She just rolls her eyes and reminds him that “if either of us is gonna be Disney’s first openly gay character, it’ll be you”. He can’t argue with that.

It should be noted that when Janis said that no-one knows about her songwriting, Damian was the obvious exception. He found out just weeks after she started. There’s no keeping secrets from him.

Between all her notebooks, she’s written around forty songs.

Then she meets Cady Heron one day. The human embodiment of a labrador puppy, complete with wide, lost eyes. She likes her instantly, decides to take her under her wing because Lord knows the girl needs it. Cady’s smile is infectious, her laugh like a summer breeze. She has dimples and caramel-coloured hair and really likes maths.

She meets Cady on a Monday.

By that Saturday, song number 41-titled “Dimples and Curls” is more or less complete.

She plays it for Damian, hands only slightly shaking as she changes chords, the strumming short and upbeat, the melody strangely happy for such a bittersweet song.

He applauds her, but the subject of the song hangs in the air even after she’s played the last chord and the music fades. Unsaid, but not unknown. Just like her songwriting, Janis couldn’t keep a crush from Damian if she tried.

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“Hey, check it out.”

Cady drops onto the seat across from Janis, the whole table shaking as she does so. Like a small meteor just hit Earth. Janis looks up from her lunch, pretending like she had been doing her own thing and not watching the door until Cady came in. Pretending like her stomach doesn’t do little flips at the sight of her crossing the cafeteria. She pulls the flyer towards her and hums in amusement.

“The winter talent show,” she reads before chomping off a carrot stick. “Oh, is it that time of year already?”

“Seems like only yesterday we was welcoming the young’uns into this brave new world during the harvest season,” Damian sighs, putting on a delightfully over the top Southern Belle accent, no doubt influenced by their reading of Streetcar Named Desire in English class. Janis cackles, and nearly chokes on her lunch as she does.

“And now the cold winds of winter are descending upon us,” she replies, her accent equally heavy. She bats her eyes for good measure, because she can and because it makes Cady laugh. “Oh but I pray the children will survive this season, it is often rough for them.”

“I am never showing you two anything winter related ever again,” Cady says.

Janis just shrugs and runs her hand through her hair before her eyes go back to the flyer. Clearly, whatever sophomore they got to design it this year did their best; found the prettiest looking snowflakes on Google Images to put on the cartoon stage, decided to write in some swirling, slanted font rather than the start-studded block lettering they usually went for. It’s still the same as it is every year, meaning just as mockable, but she’ll give them points for tying.

“Well, anyone here going for it?” she asks. She looks from Damian to Cady and back again, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Last year and all that.”

“Not sure I can,” Damian sighs. “I mean, I’m booked up with Spelling Bee rehearsals and spring cabaret auditions happening next semester.” He drums his fingers against his throat. “Gotta give the little vocal chords some rest, you know?”

Janis’ response is to sing the lowest note she possibly can before turning to Cady and giving her a pointed look, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Who? Me?” Cady’s cheeks turned crimson and she shakes her head so much that the caramel curls bounced around her shoulders. “No way. Damian can take the stage, I’m fine with my calculators and textbooks.”

“You could always solve equations in front of everyone,” Janis says. “I could call out college-level questions from the audience and you solve them in under 30 seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass,” she giggles. She leans forward slightly, eyes glittering, and Janis does her best not to squirm. The effect Cady Heron’s eyes have on her should be studied by scientists. “What about you, Janis?”

“I don’t know.” She thinks back to when she helped on stage crew last year, as well as helping out (or taking over) with the set design. It had been fun, the kind of challenge she needed to keep her mind off the slowly-going-off-the-rails plan. And she was told it looked good on her college applications, because all people can think about apparently is college, college, college. “Maybe. They might need another genius stage manager.”

“And you’ll step in if they can’t find one?” She digs Damian in the ribs for that comment.

“But not performing?” Cady asks, and Janis freezes. Performing had never even crossed her mind before. She’s used to backstage, hell, she likes backstage. It’s not that she has stage fright or anything, and if she had, her stunt at Ms Norbury’s little healing session would have squished it. She had just never thought about it.

But Cady had, apparently.

“I-No, I-I don’t think so,” she stammers out. “Um, I might do backstage again, but not actually doing something, you know, talent related.” She bites her tongue and clamps her lips shut before anything else can come out.

“Okay then,” Cady replies slowly. She gets up from the table, her little empty water bottle in her hands. “I’m going to go for a refill, save my seat.”

“No problem,” Janis says, but Cady’s already jogging away.

She doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that Cady’s known her too long to think of her as cool, and so this kind of awkward babbling isn’t really surprising to her. Instead of thinking about it, she just sets her head on the table and lets Damian rub her back.

“You were nowhere near as bad as you think you were,” he assures her.

“Title of your sex tape,” comes her murmured reply. Damian chuckles and runs his fingers through her hair, like she’s his pet cat. It helps.

“So you’re definitely not going for the talent show then?” he asks.

Her first instinct is to say no, because of course she isn’t, because she never has before and she sees no point in breaking a three-year streak, but the answer catches in her throat. At the same time, something begins forming in her brain, pieces of a melody she’s already known, words filling in blank spots in her brain, and her fingers twitch involuntarily, playing the chords on an invisible guitar. Without a word, she grabs a notepad and pen from her bag and scribbles the words down before she forgets them, quickly becoming breathless just by sitting there. She forgets, for a moment, everything else, the talent show, Cady, even Damian next to her, and just revels in the task and the quick buzz she gets just from writing. Just like that she has one eye on the clock, itching to get home and put her notes into the rest of the song.

But with those notes came an idea, an idea so completely out of left field she almost laughs at it.

“Janis?” Damian asks, just slightly unnerved by her. If anyone else were at this table, even Cady (especially Cady), she would have had to excuse herself and run to the bathroom, or just hope the words stayed in her head long enough for her to get a quiet moment. “Did the Goddess of Music just possess you again?”

“Maybe,” is her response. He doesn’t know it, but she answered both the questions he asked in the past minute.

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She sits on her bed that night, her homework half-done and strewn across the desk, abandoned in favour of the guitar sitting in her lap and notebook open on her bed. She’s been working on his song for the better part of a week, inspiration and motivation seemingly striking and then fading whenever she gets a free moment. Abandoning it has crossed her mind-she’s no stranger to abandoning things that aren’t working-but for some reason she hasn’t quite been able to shake this particular song off.

Maybe it is Euterpe, the Goddess of Music, descending upon her because this song has to be finished, it has to be, Olympus willing it so.

Or maybe it’s because this song is one of the most personal things she’s ever written, a love letter she’ll never send, and the idea of it sitting unfinished drives her crazy.

She plays another chord and sings the line again, changing the ending slightly, and makes the adjustment in her notes.

She’s crazy. This is already crazy, her secret double life as a wannabe T-Swift, but now she’s gone beyond that. Thinking of actually playing it. On a stage. In front of people. She doesn’t care what people think of her, she stopped caring about that a long, long time ago, but holy shit what will people think of her after she does this? Life isn’t like the movies, she knows that much. It won’t be some pretty, softly-lit moment where the crowd sits with teary eyes, Cady runs onstage and kisses her and she’s offered a deal by some big shot producer, and they all live happily ever after the end. What could happen is people think she’s even more of a weirdo than they do now.

Or she gets tomatoes thrown at her head and she’s booed off the stage. That’s a possibility.

She calls Damian, because that’s the only way she sees out of her little thought cul-de-sac. She puts the phone on speaker and props it up against a pillow, keeping her hands free for her guitar and her pen. He picks up on the third ring, just as she’s strumming out a G chord.

“Oh, is someone prepping for her Grammy?” he asks. “You’re still taking me as your date, right?”

“Only if my dog can’t go,” she replies. She taps her nails against the wood, the rhythm too fast and frantic to just be a habit. Yes, she can tell Damian anything, and being nervous in front of him is laughable, but sometimes her body forgets that. “So, I was thinking about the talent show.”

“Oh? You’re going for stage crew again? Cool.”

“No-not exactly.” She knows he can’t see the smile creeping across her face, but she’d wager he can hear it through the phone. A small swarm of butterflies flutters in her chest, leaving her just slightly out of breath. “I… I. think I’m going to try performing in it.”

A burst of laughter comes through the phone, slightly tinged with static, and Janis wishes he were here so she could slap him. Even if it’s not malicious in intent at all, and she’s laughing right along with him. Slapping is kind of a love language for them.

“Okay, okay cool. What’re you going to do?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” she says, and then she plays the opening chords to her latest experiment. She doesn’t add in the lyrics, not yet. Still, she sits back and basks in his applause when she finishes, cackling into her hand. He might be one person, but he’s got enough enthusiasm to match a packed auditorium. “What do you think?”

“I’m into it,” he tells her. “So… that’s the one you’re doing?”

“Think so.” She tosses the pick between her fingers. Like he could feel her smile, she can feel his raised eyebrow through the phone, the elephant in the room poking her with its trunk. “Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it,” she tells him, and he doesn’t deny it. She looks back over the lyrics she’s written and re-written. Despite some adjustments, it’s still in essence the same. Still about a girl with pretty hair who smells like vanilla and cinnamon, who has a boyfriend and is unknowingly breaking the heart of a girl with black eyeliner and paint stained fingers. Because her boyfriend is pretty and clean and smells like soap and can do math, and how is the poor art girl even meant to compare to that?

“Yes,” she says after a while. “It is about Cady.”

“Aw, my poor lovestruck songstress,” he sighs. He shifts then, and the air shifts with him. “You sure that’s the one you want to sing? I mean you have dozens of other non-Cady related songs. I’m sure Mr Duvall would love to hear Angry Teenage Lesbian Anthem.”

“First off, I gave that one a title, it’s called Shattered,” she reminds him. “And-” She freezes, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat. He’s right. She could perform one of her other songs, that are already finished and therefore removing the pressure to have this one finished, polished and stage-ready. And of course, it would mean she wouldn’t be standing in front of her entire grade and telling them all how badly she’s in love with her best friend. Showing her deepest secret to the people who have already driven her out of school once. It’s a far safer, potentially less traumatic option for her.

But…

“No,” she says. “I know it sounds crazy but I feel like… I feel like I need to do this.” She swallows thickly and picks softly at the guitar strings. “It’s like… like this way at least I’m telling her, you know? Even if she doesn’t know it.”

Of course, Damian gets it.

“That’s beautiful, babe,” he tells her. “So you’re actually doing this?”

“I’m actually doing this,” she replies firmly. “And tomorrow, I need you to make sure I don’t chicken out before I sign up.”

“Got it. I’ll just order you to do it as Senior Co-Chair of the Student Activities Committee.”

“That’s an abuse of power.”

“Then consider yourself abused baby.” He laughs and she laughs with him, and then she hears something on Damian’s end. “I have to go. A certain little sister of mine has a princess costume that needs attending to. See you later.”

“See you later,” she replies before he clicks off the call. She looks down at her paper, then at her guitar, and thinks about what she just committed to. “I’ve got some work to do.”

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The song goes through four rewrites in the weeks leading up to the talent show. The whole first verse is changed, the chorus scrapped and replaced with a new one, then that one is scrapped and she goes back to the old one. She sits hunched on her floor with a pencil in her mouth, wondering if what she’s written is too personal or not personal enough. If it’s too obvious that Cady, smart cookie that she is, will work it out and that’ll lead them down a new, scary path. She cuts some lyrics that give the game away, opting to replace one about love for numbers with love for learning, because that opens up the pool to half their grade. She writes about Cady’s blue eyes rather than specifically those double dimples that make her melt. Maybe she’s compromising her artistic vision, but it might be worth it if it’ll keep her crush a secret. She keeps the old lyrics tucked in the back of her notebook, just to have them.

Meanwhile, she’s also dealing with the fact that people know she has signed up for the talent show. That Miss Too Cool For School Loner Art Freak Janis is actually performing at a school event. And she doesn’t even get extra credit for it. They’re surprised, and curious, and none more so than Cady. The other girl appears at her side almost instantly after first period, skinny little arms wrapped around her bicep and blue eyes alight.

Oh, the things those eyes do to her.

“Janis!” she squeaks. “I saw-on the sign up sheet-your name! Oh my God, is this a joke? Did Damian put you up to it?”

“No, no, I signed up of my own accord,” Janis tells her. That only makes Cady bounce more, ponytail bobbing up and down.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!” she says. She stops then, her mouth freezing in its place and her cheeks turning pink. Slowly, she comes down to Earth, like a balloon that had the air let out of it. Janis can almost hear the wheeze. “I mean um, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“It’s pretty grool,” Janis replies, and just like that Cady bounces back up again.

“Oh my gosh, what are you going to do?” she asks. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“You think I have some secret knife-throwing talent?” she grins. She hesitates for a moment, looking down at Cady’s excited face, because even if this isn’t telling her… it’s telling her. “I’m… I’m going to sing.” She pulls on the strap of her backpack and avoids Cady’s eyes. “Something I wrote.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Hey!” she laughs. “I can write stuff. I can be deep.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about it,” Cady says, bumping her arm against Janis’. “But for real, Janis, I can’t wait to see it. I know you’ll be amazing.”

Warmth spreads across her pale cheeks, a pink blush no doubt colouring her face, and she somehow manages to choke out a “thanks” as her brain turns to static. Her only thought is ‘Cady thinks I’m going to be good’, and it’s written in glitter pen across her brain.

“This is going to be great,” she goes on. “Oh, wait until I tell Aaron. He’s got a break in his schedule that week so he’s coming up to see the talent show! Isn’t that great?”

And just like that, Janis’ good mood falls. Her face stays the same, because she’s trained to do it, but everything behind it crumbles.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she replies. Cady squeezes her hand, oblivious, and drags her along the hallway, chatting away about some lion documentary she had watched last night.

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She finishes the song that night. She arrives home with a heavy chest, so full of complicated, messy feelings, and her conversation with Cady still so fresh in her mind, her ears still ringing from the emotional whiplash. Her parents barely get a ‘hello’ as she enters and bolts up to her room, her hands shaking, the thoughts swirling around her brain desperate to be let out.

And let them out she does. She writes so quickly they look more like smudges than words, her fingers flying over rapidly changing chords, her voice broken and panting as she sings. The words almost write themselves, like the song has taken on a life of its own and she’s just along for the ride. She barely remembers to pause, to breathe, so wrapped up in the storm she’s created with just her guitar and pen.

It’s only when she finishes and falls back on her bed that she notices the tears in her eyes. She blinks them away and pulls herself up, her notebook in her hand. It’s done. The perfect blend of her own honest feelings and just enough smokescreen to keep people from knowing who it’s really about.

There’s no backing out now, she thinks. Her stomach drops, like she’s on the top of a roller coaster about to go down. A laugh bubbles up in her throat and leaves her breathless, her head spinning while she’s still laying there.

If holy shit were am adjective, she'd use it to describe how she feels. Because holy shit.

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Being backstage when she’s not on crew is a strange experience. She stands with her guitar slung around her body, in the middle of a current of students moving around her, half with the clunky microphones and walkie-talkies she’s used so many times before. She asks five of them if she can do anything to help-because they’re her people and she needs to do something to occupy her time-until she finally takes the hint and leaves them to it. Stagehands are the most efficient parts of any production, as she told Damian once. They’re a well-oiled machine at this point.

“Yo!” For a second, Janis thinks she imagined the whisper, just one in a jumble of backstage noises, until Damian appears at her side. A tiny ‘shit’ escapes her mouth, her body jerking. Barely anyone bats an eye at her, except him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Don’t worry. I think at this point a small breeze could knock into me and I’d crumble.”

“The great Janis Sarkisian gets nervous?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Only when she’s doing something incredibly personal and scary in front of her entire grade,” she whispers back. She swallows past the lump in her throat. “Aside from that I’m a beacon of confidence and unshakable will.”

“Hey.” He taps his knuckles against hers. “Remember how scared you were at Norbury’s assembly?”

“You mean after I had my picture all over the school with the d-slur written underneath it?” she mutters. “Yeah, I was shitting myself.”

“And yet, look what you did there,” he reminds her. “You were amazing. And you’re going to be amazing here too. Once you get on that stage, all those butterflies are going to make you fly, kid.”

She smiles, her heart warm, and pressed her face into the crook of Damian’s neck.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to have him, but she knows better than to tempt fate.

“Janis Sarkisian?” She lifts her head to find a freshman girl with a headset around her neck looking at her. “You’re up next.”

“Okay.” It’s only now she becomes aware that the last minute of Fairytale Of New York is playing, the notes will soon fade out, and that’s her cue. She turns to Damian and lets him straighten her black cardigan and fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” He drops a whisper of a kiss to her nose. “But good luck.”

She holds her half-heart necklace as he goes, the twin to the one around his neck. It’s as close as she can get to having him with her. Her chest tightens as she makes her way to the stage and she tries to breathe through it, because the next thign she knows, Mr Duvall is announcing her name, and she’s being greeted by a blinding spotlight that thankfully obscures most of her peers’ faces.

“Uh, hi,” she says into the microphone placed out for her. It’s just people , she reminds herself. Somewhere in that crowd, second row, seat 14, is Damian, and she breathes easier. And next to him is Cady, the girl this song is about, and for some reason that straightens her spine and irons out the shaking in her voice. She takes the pick out of its holder and tosses her hair back. “This is a song I wrote about being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.” She blinks and hopes no-one sees the tears in her eyes. “So sing along if you get into it, because we all know it’s a shitty ass feeling.”

She plays the first chord, and then any and all doubts she had about this flee her. As cliche as it sounds, the song takes over her, and she blows through the nerves in the first verse. The experience becomes cathartic instead, like releasing a pressure valve on her soul. Even with the little diversions she threw in, she hasn’t felt this open and god damn free since last year, paraded on her peers’ shoulders with both middle fingers up. Except now she’s not flipping anyone off, or proving a point, she’s just finally telling someone how she feels, and holy shit, it’s amazing. Whatever the aftermath of this is, she won’t care, it’s worth it just for this feeling.

As she sings the last word, and that final note rings in the auditorium, her hands are shaking, her cheeks wet with tears and her hair sticky with sweat. She touches beneath her eye and her fingers come away stained black. She hasn’t cried in front of people since middle school. She doesn’t care.

The cheers of her classmates ring in her ears, Damian’s whooping the loudest of all, and as she takes her bow, she hopes she’ll remember this moment for a long time.

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“Oh my God!” she’s barely into the auditorium when Cady launches herself at her, arms wrapped around her neck and legs circling her waist. Janis nearly topples over, digging her back leg into the ground just in time, and hugs Cady with the same ferocity. “You were amazing!” she yells into her shoulder, the sound muffled by Janis’ hair.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She sets Cady down, but the other girl keeps a tight grip on both her arms. Janis wonders if it’s to keep herself from flying away, given the amount of bouncing up and down she’s doing. “I can’t believe you wrote that! It was so good! You need to record it, Jan. Do you have any other songs?”

“Just a few,” she says. “And I don’t know if I’m in the business of making an album any time soon.” She swings her guitar case a little. “This might have been a one-time thing.”

“Well, even if it was, it was awesome,” she says.

“Thank you, Caddy,” Janis replies. “That means a lot.”

Her mouth runs dry as Cady smiles, all baby pink lipgloss and sparkling eyes and full cheeks. If this were a movie, she thinks, this would be the part where they kiss. No need for talking, or an explanation. Because Cady would have just known. The music would turn soft and twinkly, and the lighting would match it and it would look like they’re in a dream and they’d just kiss, and it will fix all of Janis’ problems. Maybe a single tear will run down her cheek. And then they’ll run off into their new lives as the end credits roll.

How sweet that would be.

But her life isn’t a movie. If she wants anything, she has to go for it herself.

And that includes-

“Caddy.” Her name is delicate on her lips, handled with care. Cady looks at her, giving a simple ‘mm-hm’ in response, and Janis’ heart beats out of control. “That song I just sang, it-”

“Hey, guys.”

Also if this was a movie, Cady’s sweet, lovely, nice boyfriend would not be barging in right now. He’d either be a douchebag who she doesn’t feel bad about hurting, or he’d be nonexistent.

Unfortunately, this is not a movie, and Aaron Samuels exists and is the human equivalent of a squishmallow.

“Hey Aaron.” He slings his arm around Cady’s shoulders, and she leans into his touch almost instinctively. “Janis, you were great up there. I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“It’s a bit of a new hobby,” she says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat, and finds a bottle of water being handed to-thrown at-her.

“Hydrate those chords,” is Damian’s greeting.

“This is what I get for being friends with a theatre kid,” she sighs before she takes a drink. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was until now.

“Okay, so we’re all going for pancakes,” Aaron says. “I take it you two are coming?”

“How can I say no to pancakes?” Janis asks. “Uh, you guys go ahead, I have to get my stuff from the green room.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you,” Cady says. “Aaron brought his car so he can drive us.”

“Grool.” Cady and Aaron turn around together, Aaron spinning his eyes around his finger and Cady lacing her fingers through his, talking about something she can’t hear. It’s like watching them through a sheet of glass.

Not a movie. Not unless it’s one of those really, really sad movies. Sad homophobic movies.

“You okay?” Damian asks. She snorts at the question. Nothing has changed, so of course she’s okay. But then, nothing has changed, so she’s not really okay.

“I did it,” she sighs. “It’s out there. I told her, unofficially. Whether or not she works it out…” She runs her hand through her tangled hair. “That’s something else entirely.” Damian hums in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face that soon morphs into a grin.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Mom.” They snort, Janis caught between a laugh and a sob, and squeezes Damian’s hand. She’s not optimistic about any romance in her future, at least where Cady is concerned. She and Aaron are still rock-solid and she’s happy for them, whenever she isn’t angsting about it. It’s a weird combination to have.

And at least she’s done this now. Despite a future for her and Cady not being in the cards for now, she’s glad she did it. The secret isn’t out, not entirely. Just written on the walls in invisible ink.

“Come on,” she tells Damian. “I actually do have to get my bag, and you can use this as an opportunity to double check the ghost light is on.”

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Cady and Aaron keep their promise and wait for them, waving off their apologies as they jog across the parking lot. Cady lets Damian take the front seat with Aaron and slides into the back with Janis instead. Janis frowns, confused as to why she isn’t taking her normal seat up front, and Cady rolls her eyes.

“There was a draw on the way here, and we lost,” she explains. “And now Damian has control of the aux chord,” She gestures with her head to the passenger seat, and Janis turns just in time to see him open his Spotify and scroll through his playlists. As the opening notes to Waving Through A Window fill the car, it’s met with three loud groans. Damian only turns it up louder, and adds in his own backing vocals.

“So, that song you sang,” Cady asks, leaning back in the seat. “Was it about anyone in particular?”

Janis looks down, her hands pressed together in her lap. If this is the moment the universe decided to give her, it’s a really terrible moment. Not only is Cady’s whole boyfriend sitting an arm’s length away from her, but she left her nerve back in the auditorium. Clearly, her and fate aren’t on each other’s wavelength.

“You wouldn’t know her,” she says. “She doesn't even go here.”

“Oh,” Cady replies. Her face falls, but she’s not too put out by it. Why would she be? She nudges Janis’ shoulder, a proud smile on her face, and squeezes Janis’ hand. “Well, if she has someone like you into her and she hasn’t taken the chance yet, then she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Janis only thanks her, and quickly changes the subject.

Someday she might tell her for real, but for now she'll stick to the songs.

#mean girls broadway #mean girls fanfic #cadnis #janis sarkisian #cady heron #cadnis ff #cady x janis #space safari #mean girls musical

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

Text

Stargazing

Ethan Winters x Mia Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Summary: A year after the events that took place at the Bakers’ residence and the three years of Mia being missing, the Winters spouses have finally been healed enough to start getting back into a regular lively rhythm, nevertheless haunted by the nightmare they lived through.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Sorry you’ve had to wait so long for your request but here it finally is! They deserved so much better and I’ll never stop saying that! Sorry for the brief rant, still, hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

Holding Ethan’s hand tightly, Mia follows his instructions to keep her gaze down at the ground and avoid looking up as much as possible. She’s been having a hard time containing the smile on her face, biting her bottom lip a lot to prevent it from showing. Same as she’s had a hard time keeping quiet with her guessing games of where Ethan’s taking her. The man’s unbreakable though, never once was he tempted to let her in on what he’s planned.

It’s been a year since the Baker incident and all the couple has done is switch from one coping mechanism to another. They got stuck in a sort of therapy-work-therapy cycle where they threw themselves in their work and periodically went to their psychiatric appointments, never daring to nudge the topic at home amongst themselves. It was enough that the whole night has remained as a dark cloud hanging over their heads, addressing it has simply been to painful so they’ve steered clear of the topic the best they could.

However, an important thing to note about this coping cycle they created is that it drove all the other mechanics in their lives and their relationship to become routinely and mechanic as well. There was little to no feeling in all they did - not that they ever did much together except have dinner and sometimes breakfast, both of them fully indulged in their work the rest of the day. Work became their therapy eventually, leaving little time for one another and for fixing what’s been broken between them. This conclusion bothered them both to no end but neither wanted to address it out of fear of disturbing the other.

Luckily, Ethan didn’t feel the need to bring it up before taking action.

“Here we are!“ He announces eventually, causing Mia to snap her head upwards without a second to spare, curious eyes doing the best they can to take in the dark surroundings.

Surprisingly enough, she doesn’t have any problem with the dark. What happened back in Louisiana didn’t give her a phobia of the dark or of ships as her therapist initially thought she’d develop. However, she’s got a huge fear of bugs and insects now - especially mosquitos. Count on her husband carrying anti bug spray wherever they go - now is no exception.

As her eyes slowly adjust to the darkness of their surroundings, it doesn’t take her a while to realize they’re in an open yet secluded field. She’s not the slightest bit surprised by where he’s taken her, in fact, she recognizes it immediately. It’s the spot of their first official date.

“Who knew going to that dorm party would be the best thing I’d do in my life.“ He mumbles under his breath, admiring the sparkles in her eyes as she takes in the beautiful field bit by bit, letting the reel of memories play back, taking her all the way back to that first year of college, that fateful night when they met, followed by the night they came to this field.

“Who knew overcoming my fear of heights at an early age would’ve helped me find the man I’d eventually marry.“ She replies, turning to look at him, their gazes locking in place, both of them no reminiscing on those events they hadn’t recalled in a very long time.

2006

The humidity doesn’t suggest that the summer months have already ended. In fact, the air is still as unbreathable as it was in July and August, making the students who have to return to their studies super conflicted, longing for those beach days with little to no responsibilities. Given that no one is ready for the school year to start, the professors included, the first few weeks of college have been rather stress-free for Ethan. Well, that is if you don’t include the agony of moving into college as a freshman from an entirely different state.

Why he chose to go to college in Texas is a question he still doesn’t have a proper answer to. It was an impulsive, basically overnight decision, one that rattled his parents to no end when he announced it. However, having his own income and savings for college purposes, they couldn’t really do much in stopping him but they didn’t support him either. They kept trying to change his mind until the very last day but alas he stood his ground and now here he is, in his college dorm, trying to read a book while there’s a raging party going on just two floors above. The music is so loud though that is sounds more like it’s taking place in his closet instead.

His roommate went up to help set the party up, only putting mild effort into getting his Cali-boy roommate to tag along and join the shenanigans which Ethan appreciated. Parties have never really been his scene so he knew he would’ve kept refusing no matter how much he tried getting him up there.

Finding the read hopeless due to the distractions, Ethan ditches the book and lays back on his bed staring at the ceiling, feeling like a fish out of water, ready to suffocate any minute. The AC in the dorm is faulty so it’s not serving its purpose properly, leaving the air at the same temperature as it would be had the device not been turned on at all. He’s stranded on things to do, feeling awfully caged in this new environment without any proper entertainment, going even as far as to second-guess if his parents were maybe right all along.

Fortunately for him, just then, his roommate bursts in, humming along to the song that’s currently being played at the party, never missing a tune even in his clearly intoxicated state.

“Hey Winters, aren’t you Californians supposed to know of a good time? You’re disappointing me right now.“ Jared slurs, laughing a bit as he leans against the wall to keep himself to his feet.

Ethan can’t help but scoff, “Thought I’d be a party animal? Sorry for the letdown.”

Jared laughs, shaking his head, “Come on, Cali. You have two semesters to be sulking around, it’s too early to start. Listen, one beer and thirty minutes, that’s all I’m asking you for. If you like it you can stick around. If not, feel free to leave. Just please give it a shot. How else are you supposed to make friends?”

Ethan stops to contemplate for a second, weighing his options. Jared takes this as a hopeful sign, seeing as how his offer wasn’t immediately turned down as it was the first time. Finally, the blond sighs in defeat: “Ok, but thirty minutes only.“ He says as he slides off the bed, briefly looking at himself in the mirror and deeming his appearance decent enough for a dorm party. As a very new student, he’d like to make a good first impression on his classmates but given that they’re all probably wasted, he’s not stressing too much over his looks at the moment.

Following Jared up to the floor of the party, he’s immediately handed a beer which he accepts with little hesitation. His roommate goes around introducing him to a few people before he disappears with some girl he claims has been his on-again-off-again girlfriend since sophomore year of high school - Sarah. Ethan, of course, doesn’t stop him despite hating the ide of finding himself stuck alone in a crowd of people he’s seeing for the first time in his life. Still, he sticks to the deal: thirty minutes and a beer...ok, two beers, but they’ve done nothing to make him enjoy this party.

So, off he goes to search for Jared to tell him he’s leaving. Thinking he saw the dark haired girl he went off with going up the stairs to the roof, he quickly follows.

Little does he know, that’s not the dark haired girl he’s looking for. That’s Mia

Mia, the rowdy, outgoing Texas tomboy who, unlike Ethan, thoroughly enjoys going to parties and having a good time with her friends and a few drinks. However, even a party animal such as herself sometimes needs to take a breather especially when people are smoking cigarettes as though they’re inhaling air and she’s never tried a cigarette in her life and is actually quite against the idea. She found this rooftop to be her prefect hideaway whenever she felt like her surroundings would suffocate her. Students were strictly instructed that climbing up there would earn them a penalty but that didn’t bother her in the slightest - She’s been frequenting the roof already and it’s been barely a week of her fresh start in college. Luckily, she got over her fear of heights at the tender age of twelve so this journey to quite a high point doesn’t pose as much stress as it would’ve about a decade ago.

As she lies on the floor, looking up at the starry night sky above, she nearly jumps out of her skin when another voice calls out to her presumably though it’s not using the correct name.

“Hey, um, S-Sarah? Have you seen Jared?“

Mia turns her head as she sits up, one eyebrow raised as she takes a good look at the silhouette which this voice belongs to. It’s pretty dark so even if she knew him, she wouldn’t be able to recognize him but judging by the voice, this is not someone she’s familiar with. And judging by the accent, this guy is not from around here.

“I’m not Sarah, but if you’re looking for Jared Letterwood, I can guarantee he’s in Sarah’s dorm.“ Mia chuckles, “I’d know. Sarah’s my roommate.“

Ethan cringes at the thought, “Yikes, you’ve got it rough. I mean, Jared’s my roommate but so far I haven’t had to leave the dorm for him to...you know. Hope I never have to.” Suddenly, an idea strikes him, “Wait, where are you gonna sleep tonight?”

She laughs, lying back down with her arms folded behind her head, “Right here.” She drags out the words as she adjusts her position a little, eyes fluttering closed. “Stargazing helps me fall asleep. The whole ambience up here is just...perfect, you know. Jared and Sarah are really doing me a favor.”

Ethan can’t help but scoff, “Call me crazy, but I’ve never stargazed in my life. I don’t know, never really saw the whole appeal. Sure, it’s cool to see in a movie or whatever, but it’s got no real purpose in real life. Not that I’m trying to bash your hobby or anything...”

Before the clueless blond could finish his statement, Mia’s already snapped up in a sitting position, giving him a narrow-eyed glare he can’t really see in the darkness. Her hand taps the spot next to her, “Don’t knock until you try it, Cali boy. Come’ere, see what you’re missing out on.”

Though reluctant, Ethan takes a few steps forward, stopping for a second to ask: “Wait, how’d you know I’m Californian?” Regardless of his confusion, he sits his ass down as he was told, awkwardly laying down so that there’s half a foot or less between their bodies so he doesn’t accidentally touch her and run the risk of freaking her out.

“I know a lot of things, Cali. Unfortunately, your name isn’t one of them. That being said, either you tell me it, or I’ll have to keep calling you Cali.“ She says teasingly.

“Ethan. My name’s Ethan.“ He says through a sigh, unable to contain the smile that spreads across his face.

A smile mimicking his appears on her face as well, “Nice to meet you, Ethan. The name’s Mia.“

Needless to say, the following morning Ethan woke up still on the roof, and surprisingly and terrifyingly enough, with the girl he barely met the night prior in his arms. Under the light of the newly rising day he could examine her features better, taking in her absolute beauty, her pale features contrasting her dark as the night hair. She’s still asleep so he can’t see her eyes but he has no doubt they are as beautiful as she is. Everything about her looks so delicate yet sharp simultaneously. And he’s simply in awe.

To avoid any awkwardness in case she wakes up, he falls back asleep, not even trying to remove his arms from around her body, silently hoping she won’t kick his ass for it. The next time he wakes up, an undecided amount of time later, he’s alone on the rooftop. Alone with a note that says: ‘Did you like it? If yes, I got a better stargazing spot to show ya. You know where to find me

~ M‘

“And boy, was I missing out on something.“ Ethan whispers, gently running his fingers through his wife’s hair as they lay in that same field she was referring to in her note to him, gazing up at the stars, limbs intertwined, bodies completely collided.

“Told ya. Stargazing is incredible, ain’t it?“ Mia replies, snuggling closer though that’s simply impossible.

Her husband chuckles, his chest rumbling with the noise, “That’s not really what I meant.”

Her brows furrow but she doesn’t look at him, “Oh? Then what did you mean?”

With a content sigh, he replies, “I was missing out on having you in my arms, falling asleep and waking up by your side.“ He says, his lips planting a gentle kiss at the top of her head that has her melting in his embrace.

Mia’s not the romantic nor cheesy half of this relationship, quite the opposite, but she feels emotions to a way deeper level than Ethan would imagine her feeling. So, thankful to the darkness, Mia allows her eyes to gloss over with emotional tears as she rises up to collide her lips with his in a soft and tender kiss.

“I missed you so much, Mia.“ Ethan whispers when they pull away, foreheads resting against each other.

“I promise to never make you miss me again, baby.“ She replies in a tone as hushed as his. As though they are both afraid someone would overhear this vow of theirs and try to force them to break it.

“That’s impossible.“ He says with a soft chuckle, “I always miss you at least a little.“

Mia hums in response, “Well, right now, you don’t have to miss me at all. I’m all yours. You’re the only thing on my mind, Mr. Winters.“

Even in the dark, she sees the grin that lights up his face, “As you are the only thing on mine, Mrs. Winters.” With that, their lips reestablish their contact, this time maintaining it longer, making it more passionate than before.

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reading-while-queer · 4 years ago

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Ninth House, Leigh Bardugo

Rating: Mixed Review Genre: Fantasy, Mystery, Dark Academia Representation: -Bi/pan protagonist -Jewish protagonist -Latina mixed race protagonist Trigger warnings: Sexual assault (in scene), rape (in scene), CSA (in scene), graphic violence, murder, drug use, drug abuse, drugging of another person, overdose, domestic abuse, medical abuse, violence by dogs Note: Not YA

Why is it that every time I read Leigh Bardugo, I love the book with a passion...except for one thing that makes me want to tear my hair out?

Here’s what seriously impressed me about Ninth House, Bardugo’s entry into New Adult. The pacing was phenomenal. The measured, perfectly timed revelations of information had me finding excuses to listen to the audiobook - taking extra neighborhood walks, doing extra loads of laundry - because I was so hooked. Then, there’s the worldbuilding. Bardugo managed to walk a delicate line, successfully suspending disbelief while still asserting that eight Yale secret societies do secret magic rituals to the benefit of the oligarchical capitalist machine (we all kind of suspected this was the case, right?). But the best part of the book, the part that had me recommending Ninth House in more than one group chat, was, of all things, the point-of-view jumps.

Rarely are point-of-view switches the star of the show, but I was so excited to see a genuinely original, intrinsic-to-the-heart-of-the-whole-novel use of that technical tool. The point of view jumps crank the volume up on the theme of the whole book. We start with the main character, Galaxy “Alex” Stern; she is the point-of-view character for the present semester during which the principal action of the novel takes place. Her upperclassman and mentor Daniel Arlington (or “Darlington”) is the point-of-view character for the semester before - all because something happened to Darlington. Alex is telling people he’s doing a “semester in Spain,” and all the reader knows is that her explanation isn’t strictly true. The point-of-view jumps being so strict (there is never an Alex perspective chapter during last semester, and never a Darlington perspective in the present) serves to separate the two characters from each other with a really incredible emotional effectiveness. The heart of the novel, for me as a reader, was yearning for these two to be reunited - and all because Bardugo holds the two character points-of-view separate across an unbreachable temporal divide. It’s a powerfully effective technique.

But let’s backtrack. Alex is a 20-year-old high school dropout from the west coast. As the story progresses, we learn that Alex can see ghosts, which is why, despite never finishing high school or getting her GED - or even applying - Alex is a freshman at Yale - contingent on her joining the secret society called “Lethe House” as apprentice (“Dante”) to the current leader of the society, Darlington (the “Virgil”). Lethe House is the governing body of the eight Yale secret societies that practice the magic that keeps the elite in power. These secret societies make books sell, make T.V. anchors charming and compelling, and open portals to other parts of the world - when they aren’t throwing over the top Halloween parties with magic designed to alter one’s perception of reality.

Darlington, by contrast to Alex, seems to belong at Yale. He’s from an old family, and he’s preppy and well-read. Most of all, he loves Lethe House and its history of keeping the secret societies from harming people in their pursuit of magic and power. That is, until he disappears just in time for Alex, only half-trained, to investigate the murder of a girl on campus.

The first three quarters of the novel are fantastic for the reasons stated above. Bardugo’s approach to mystery writing is effective. We have half a dozen suspects, most of whom, as elite ivy league magicians, are at least guilty of some misdeed. Having all your red herrings end up somewhat culpable anyway is a good way to keep your mystery difficult to solve until the end. We were off to a good start.

Unfortunately, in the end, Bardugo made the all-too-common choice to value “surprise” over the most compelling, satisfying solution. So while the reader doesn’t see the ending coming, that is at the steep cost of the ending not being justified by the rest of the book. Bardugo even has to invent new rules of magic off the cuff to justify the ending. When the rest of the book so painstakingly developed the rules of magic in a way that made sense and never felt overly expository, undoing all that effort feels like a monumental waste. And for what did Bardugo undermine all her hard work? A mystery that the reader won’t have all the clues to solve? It’s really okay - in fact, good - if the reader can puzzle out your story. It means your story has symmetry, internal logic, or perhaps, some sort of message.

This is what had me tearing my hair out. I know exactly how I would have written the ending of Ninth House to be the perfect conclusion to a stunning book. I know exactly what the message should have been. Is it somewhat ridiculous to say that Bardugo misinterpreted the message of her own book? Perhaps. But given the out-of-left-field-ending, the theme of the book ends up being a rather cheaply bought “No matter how traumatized you are, you can be a girlboss” instead of the message that the very structure of the novel itself was pointing to since page one: one of companionship, trust, and restoration (frankly, a better message for a novel with a main character who suffers so much loss and trauma. But, sure, “girl power” is a theme...I guess...)

Here’s what I mean by the structure of the novel itself pointing to a different theme. (Spoiler warning for the rest of this paragraph). Because the point-of-view switches in the first two thirds of the novel were used by Bardugo like two magnets being held apart, the only way to create a feeling of resolution was, so to speak, putting the magnets back together: getting Darlington back into the “present.” The degree of disconnect between reader expectations and the reality of the book is comparable to picking up a romance novel only to have the two leads decide to just be friends at the end. Bardugo set expectations - akin to genre expectations - but unfortunately Bardugo kneecapped her first book in the service of the sequel.

And then there’s the trauma. Alex’s backstory wouldn’t be the same without some level of trauma; it’s an important part of her character arc. Even the explicit presence of sexual assault on the page was justified in the case of Alex’s backstory - and I think that is rarely true. But when it came to a side character’s explicit in-scene rape, which was used as a clue in the broader murder mystery rather than treated as a crime in its own right, that tipped me over into feeling the trauma in Ninth House was more excessive than necessary for character development. The resolution to that side character’s rape is oddly cartoonish - like an over-the-top prank rather than justice - and again, the only reason the rape happens to the character is to give Alex more information she needs to solve the plot. Maybe that wouldn’t bother some readers, but for me, a book has to bend over backwards to justify showing me a character being raped. Bardugo does well earlier in the book when depicting Alex’s assault; the assault is the explanation for why Alex doesn’t view magic with the same childish excitement as the rest of Yale, and it’s part of what holds her apart from the entitled secret societies. It needed to be in the book. Everything else was gratuitous.

That said, there’s one thing still to address in this roller coaster of a review, and that is: wait, is this a queer book? I had gone into it assuming that it would be, mostly because all my queer friends were reading it. And the answer is….kind of? Knowing Bardugo’s history with putting queer characters in her books, I’m going to assume she wasn’t baiting when she had Alex claim to have loved a girl in her backstory. Which, in the context of the rest of the novel, would make Alex bi or pan. As a book that a lot of queer fans of Bardugo’s YA have read, or will read, it feels appropriate to review it here.

This was a mixed review from start to finish, but to finish up: if you are thinking about reading Ninth House, go for it! There is so much to like about this book. Take to heart that if you read and liked Bardugo’s handling of sexual assault in her YA titles, you should be prepared to be surprised by Ninth House. It is not the same. I would not have called her handling of sexual assault in Six of Crows, for instance, restrained - but compared to Ninth House, it absolutely is. Despite my strongly worded feelings about the ending, Bardugo left room to redeem herself in the sequel (which, if you ask me, is why the ending was so bad in the first place...). I for one will definitely be reading the sequel the second it comes out.

#leigh bardugo #ninth house #fantasy #mystery #dark academia #not ya #mixed review #bi #reviews only #protagonist of color #jewish protagonist

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haosvteen · 5 years ago

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I Found You | soulmate seventeen series

a/n: this is my first traditionally written imagine i’m posting here, so i hope you like it!! i’m a little bit nervous to post, so please let me know how you like it :)

minghao x reader | soulmate seventeen

~ - fluff

word count: 3.2k

main masterlist

All you could focus on is the ticking of the clock and the tapping of your pencil on the worn-out wooden desk. No matter how hard you tried to tune into your professor’s monotone voice lecturing about string theory, your mind kept wandering elsewhere. Literally anywhere else. At first, you started thinking about why you had to take this class anyway. It didn’t have anything to do with your major, so what was the point? But as soon as that thought came, it went, and you were trying to decide where to get lunch after the unnecessarily long class ended.

Leaning down to your side and reaching into your backpack on the floor, you pulled out a brown leather-bound notebook. Running your fingers over the intricate gold designs adorning the spine, admiring the swirls and flowers, you placed it on your desk and flipped it open. Gliding your pencil across the unlined, seemingly old paper, you wrote “What do I get for lunch? My stomach is about to grumble in class”.

You run a hand through your hair with a sigh and look back up at your professor, once again trying to figure out what he is attempting to explain. One-dimensional strings? Quantum gravity? It meant nothing to you. Thankfully, Hao had been helping you almost every night. Honestly, you felt a little bad because he was trying his hardest to make it simple for you, but the content was essentially impossible to understand. Your brain just doesn’t seem to cooperate when it comes to physics.

Looking back down at the notebook below you, you received a response: “What about that pizza place you like down the street from your apartment?”. Just the thought of the greasy slice of goodness makes your stomach emit an audible grumble, causing several heads near you to turn your way, judgmental looks behind their eyes. After taking a moment to apologetically smile at them and deal with your embarrassment, you jot on the paper, “Hao, you’re a genius how do you always know what I want?”.

Almost as quickly as you finished writing your sentence, you see Hao’s handwriting appear letter by letter on the page. “It’s because I’m your soulmate, duh”. You lean your head on your hand and smile to yourself, noticing the students around you start packing up their books and leaving the room, signaling to you that class had finished.

After closing all of your books and stuffing them in your backpack, you slung a strap on your shoulder and started to make your way out of the classroom. Before you had the opportunity to escape into the hallway, your professor called to you, “Ms. Y/L/N, would you mind seeing me for a moment?”

Slowly turning around, you made your way up to the front of the classroom where he was wiping down the blackboard for the next class. It felt as if you were walking to the gallows due to the tone of his beckoning. “Yes, sir?”, you asked, curious as to what this may be about. Had he noticed you weren’t paying attention? That you were writing in your soulmate journal?

“As you know, final exams are coming up and I am concerned about your final grade in this class. In order to pass, you need to earn at least an 85% or higher on the final,” he nonchalantly said, not even bothering to make eye contact with you as he began to pack up.

You knew that you were not the best at physics, but you did not realize your grade was so low. That you would basically have to eat, sleep, and breathe the subject until the end of the term. “I’m so sorry, is there any extra credit I could possibly do? I’ve been trying my best, it’s just that-“, before you had the opportunity to finish your statement, he had cut you off.

“You haven’t been trying your best, though. Far too often I see you writing away in that notebook of yours and I highly doubt your taking notes.” You didn’t even know what to say in response to that because he was right. You weren’t taking notes. But could you be blamed for wanting to talk with your soulmate? Somewhere along the way since your 16th birthday, you and Hao discovered that you lived in different time zones so there were only certain times of the day you could talk to each other…one of those times just happened to be during this class. If only your professor understood this.

As if the gruff man in front of you read your mind, he continued, “I am assuming that is your soulmate journal?” Silently giving a small nod, you internally cringed for what was to come because based on the raised eyebrow and demeaning glare, it could not be good. “You know all of that’s bullshit right?”. Your jaw slightly dropped because you were not expecting that to come from your professor’s mouth.

“Statistically only 32% of people actually end up with their ‘soulmate’? No one even understands the technology of these journals or where they come from. Researchers haven’t been able to find conclusive evidence of the accuracy of these journals. The odds are higher that you will end up with someone in this class rather than whomever you are speaking to through those pieces of paper. I suggest you keep this in mind for the remainder of the semester,” your professor concluded and hastily marched out of the classroom.

You are dumbfounded. You didn’t know what your professor wanted to see you about, but in no way did you suspect that. Alright, maybe you suspected him addressing you about your poor grade, but that rant? Probably would have been the last thing you guessed. After overcoming the initial shock of the encounter you just were on the receiving end of, you shook your head and finally left the room.

Walking down the street to your favorite pizza place (as Hao suggested), you couldn’t stop thinking about everything your professor said. Was it really true that only 32% of people end up with their soulmate? And now that you thought about it, having someone’s writing showing up in some magical journal you get on your 16th birthday seems a little impractical too.

After taking a seat at the small pizzeria, you took a bite, the cheese stretching, and about to fall off the slice. You wiped your greasy fingers off on a napkin before pulling out your soulmate journal to write to Hao, telling him his suggestion was an excellent choice.

While waiting for his response, you decided to do a little bit more research about the probability of soulmates ending up together. With a simple google search, thousands of articles came up about the illegitimacy of the journals, however, there were equally as many describing the validity of them while recounting people’s personal positive experiences.

After reading article after article, you couldn’t help but question if you would actually end up with Hao. You’d never had to think about it before. Your whole life, you had always been told: “whoever you write to in your soulmate journal is who you will find true love with and be forever happy”. You didn’t have a reason to question it either because you love Hao. Even though you had never seen him, you knew that you love him.

Your parents were connected through the soulmate journal and found each other, so they raised you to believe that the same would happen for you. The difference is that your parents had known each other since they were six years old. It was easier for them. You didn’t even know where Hao was from. You had your guesses considering his timezone, but you really knew nothing else. The journal would erase writing that held personal information (which sounds kind of…magical? but everyone has a notebook in which they can speak to their soulmate, so who’s to judge when that is an aspect of your world). When you first got your journal, you immediately wrote in it, providing your social media handles so your soulmate could find you. However, with every letter you wrote, they disappeared twice as fast.

There were many sleepless nights you complained to your friends about how hard it was because you just wanted to find him. You just wanted to be able to see his face. Hear his voice. Almost everyone you knew found their soulmates easily, but you were what felt like the only one left without your soulmate. Especially one on the other side of the world.

Becoming so wrapped in your thoughts, you picked up your pen again and wrote in the journal, “Hey…have you ever thought that we maybe…won’t end up together?”.

“What do you mean? Of course, we will end up together. We’re soulmates. That’s the whole purpose of this journal,” Minghao responded.

“I know, I know, but my professor just told me some stuff today. It’s stupid and I know I shouldn’t even worry about it, but he said that only 32% of people actually end up with their soulmate,” you explained. Sitting up in your seat, you started to get a little anxious. You know that Hao hated talking about this stuff.

“Y/N, I’ve told you this so many times before. We will find each other. I will find you. Don’t listen to the statistics,”. As you see the words appear on the paper in front of you, you can’t help but think…what if? What if you don’t find each other. Taking a moment to logically think about it, there is really no definitive way to track the other down. It all happens by chance.

As you placed your pen on the paper, about to write back, Hao’s handwriting appeared again. “I don’t want you to worry about this. The universe wants us together. It will find a way.”

With a sigh, you simply responded, “You’re right, I’ll talk to you later” and quickly drew a heart. You closed the journal, hoping it would help the thoughts leave your head, but you couldn’t stop the constant what-ifs running through your mind for the next days.

During that time, you did more research and truly discovered statistically how low the chances are that you will find your soulmate. There are 7.5 billion people in the world, what are the odds you find your person?

Things between you and Hao were never really the same after that.

It started out slowly. You would happen to forget your journal at home when you went out and instead of running back to get it (like you usually would), you didn’t bother. There were days that turned into weeks where you wouldn’t write to Minghao at all. Every so often you would maybe leave a kind message telling him to have a good day, but there were no longer meaningful conversations between you two. You even started seeing other boys. If statistically, you were not going to end up with Minghao, it was okay to start looking elsewhere.

Having been raised on the idea that this person on the other end of the journal is who you will end up with, no ifs, ands, or buts about it, didn’t allow you to experience young love the way many people do. When you turned 16, all of your attention went immediately to Minghao…because you were 100% sure you would end up with him. Now that you knew the small likelihood of that actually happening, you allowed yourself to find happiness. Even if it wasn’t with your soulmate.

Not to say that you forgot about Minghao. You could never forget about Minghao. But no matter how much you wished that it would work between you two, you knew the reality of the situation.

Several years had gone by. You and Minghao would write to each other in your journals sometimes, but never at the same time. Typically, you would write a message every several months to update him about what was going on in your life and he would do the same. Even years later, you still regret leaving him the way you did. You cannot imagine what providing little to no explanation did to him, but you were young. You didn’t know how to handle it.

But now, your life was completely different from those years ago when your best friend was through a journal. You had a career that you loved, amazing and supportive friends…there wasn’t more you could ask for. Except that you still hadn’t found someone. You thought that it would be easier to find a boy to spend your life with, even if it wasn’t Minghao, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Everyone was just looking for people to hook up and have one-night-stands with as they waited to find their soulmate. No one had accepted the reality of the situation as you had. While some might say that you were being pessimistic, you liked to think of it as being logical.

It was 8:54am and you were stumbling all over your apartment in an attempt to get dressed while simultaneously pack your bag for work. You were sure that you set your alarm for 6:30am so you had ample time to prepare and have a relaxing morning before you had to leave to catch your train. The image of the 6:30am alarm on your phone being switched on was ingrained in your mind, you knew you turned it on. Technology works in mysterious ways.

While tugging on the first appropriate shoes you found, you swung open the closet door that contained your sweatshirts that were still appropriate for work. This was your go-to when you were running late and today was definitely one of those days. As you swiftly opened the door, a book fell down from the top shelf. Your soulmate journal.

The panic of the morning immediately halted. It had been years since you had even looked at it. You shoved it away in a random box while moving to this city for your job and you honestly hadn’t thought about it since. While the memories of your conversations with Minghao flooded your mind, you decided to pack it in your bag. Maybe you would write to him while you were on your lunch break.

Grabbing the last of your items, you hurried out the door, trying to make it to the next scheduled train. As you exited your building and began running down the busy sidewalk to the train station, the crisp air whipped against your face. Your nose and ears were numb, but that was the least of your worries.

Your lungs felt like they were on the verge of exploding as you approached the train and saw the double doors sliding closed. “Hey!!! Someone hold the door!!! Please!!!”, you shout breathlessly, hoping to catch the attention of anyone inside the warm transport. To your luck, someone heard you and stuck their hand outside. Little did they know they were saving you from having to wait another 30 minutes for a train.

As you quickened your pace to enter the train, you smiled at the man who held the doors open for you, “Thank you so much, if it weren’t for you I would even more late for work than I am now”.

“No problem,” he said while making his way to a seat. Taking a moment to smooth out your hair, you followed behind him trying to find a place of your own. After looking around, the only one you found available was right across from that same man.

You looked at your watch and couldn’t help but watch the seconds and minutes tick away, making you more and more late for work. Stealing you from your trance, your phone began ringing. Noticing that it was your boss, you couldn’t help but let out a heavy sigh.

Before you had the opportunity to say hello, he was screaming into your ear, “Y/N where are you?! We need you here now!! This is unacceptable behavior.”

“I understand, I apologize. I’m on my way, sir. I will be there as fast as I can,” you responded, trying to keep your cool. After some more several unkind words, your boss hung up the phone. Running your hands over your face, you look up to see the man sitting opposite you, staring at you with wide eyes and a slightly agape mouth. You gave him a small smile and looked away, trying to ignore the look he continued to give you.

“Y/N?” you heard him say.

“Oh, me?” you questioned, to ensure that he was talking to you. Hopefully whatever he has to say won’t take too long because the train was due to stop in three minutes and you had to get off immediately.

He responds with a nod, eyes still as wide as a deer in headlights, “I’m Minghao”.

With that, your expression imitated his. Minghao? As in your Minghao?

“Wait, I don’t understand. You’re here?” you asked because last time you read a message from him in the journal, he hadn’t moved or mentioned traveling. Well…the last time you had touched the journal was years ago.

Minghao quickly moved to rummage in his bag. After a few moments, he pulled out a brown leather-bound notebook…with gold designs on the spine…swirls and flowers.

Before you knew what you were doing, you also began to dig in your bag for your soulmate journal…that happened to fall out of your closet today…that you wouldn’t have opened if your alarm would have gone off…

You immediately opened the old journal for the first time in years. The first words you see are, “I found you”.

Looking up at Hao, tears began to form in your eyes. You hadn’t admitted it to yourself, but it had been so hard without him. It’s like whenever you weren’t with him, everything was so much worse. Even if you only knew each other through the soulmate journal.

The train came to a screeching stop and the people around you began standing and exiting to the station, but you two remained seated. There were some people giving you some strange looks, but they didn’t realize that two people who were meant to be together had finally met. That you and Hao had met.

“I’ve looked everywhere for you,” Hao said as he stood up. “I told you I would find you.”

You couldn’t help yourself, but run up and wrap your arms around him. The arms you wanted to hold you since you were 16. You could finally feel him. Hear his voice. See his face. You could be with him. Not just through pieces of bound paper.

You pulled away from him and looked up into his eyes. Your cheeks were tear-stained, but you couldn’t help it. “We are not a statistic,” Hao softly whispered. His eyes flicked from yours, down to your lips. He moved his hands up to your face, using his thumbs to wipe the tears that won’t stop cascading down your cheeks. He leaned into you slowly, softly pressing his lips to yours.

“I found you,” Hao said so only you could hear, as he leaned his forehead against yours.

He found you.

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elianthvia · 4 years ago

Text

7 Reasons Why I Quit

(only for a little bit)

It has, alas, been another few weeks since I posted. I have an excuse for my unpunctuality: I've been spinning non-stop like a top. The conclusion of the last Zoomester and the start of summer are to blame. I have seven partners in crime.

Culprit 1: Puppetry Workshop

Towards the end of the year, DTI (Design Thinking Initiative), in collaboration with the Theatre Shop, hosted an in-person puppetry workshop where a small number of people could participate per covid protocols. In-person events were few and far between this semester, so of course I rushed to sign up. The workshop ran for about 2 hours on three consecutive Mondays. We met in the theatre shop inside Mendenhall Center for Performing Arts.

The first day we made shadow puppets (and mine was a bee); the second day we made hand puppets (mine was a ... cyclop ghost king?); the third day we made marionette or string puppets (I attempted to make a teru teru bōzu, but everyone thought it a ghost). I had a lot of fun trying different fabrics, re-learning how to use a bandsaw, and magically joining things together with the help of a hot glue gun. (Side note: Polymer chemistry is the magician behind the scene, and I will be learning more about the science of hot glue guns in the polymer class I am taking next semester!) The workshop was surprisingly not as popular as I anticipated, maybe because people were busy as the semester came to a close. The good news is that DTI will be running the workshop again in the fall so more people will get to participate.

(Is she a ghost or teru teru bōzu?)

Culprit 2: Spring Piano Recital

I did not expect to attend a live concert this semester, but I was invited to the spring piano recital as a "special guest." It is a habit I developed while working as a concert crew at Sage, to sit outside the Sweeney Concert Hall and listen to the rehearsals after I finished setting up the stage. That day I was going to do homework outside the concert hall while waiting for my performing friend to finish. The piano instructor spotted me and asked me if I wanted to join. Disbelieving in my good luck, I accepted the invite. About ten students were scattered in the almost empty concert that felt sad and lonesome, but soon music filled the air. I thoroughly enjoyed every performance. Lots of Chopin were played, but my favorite one is Rhapsody in Blue which just entered the public domain this year. All pieces are about or more than a century old, which is not a surprise, but refreshingly, there is a piece by a female composer, Amy Beach, whose granduncle co-founded Bates College. You can find the full program here.

Culprit 3: End of Classes

The end of classes was epitomized by professor-resembling pixels on our computer screens bidding us goodbye. Usually professors would plan something fun for the last day of classes, virtually as well.

I remember last semester my Multivariable Calculus professor changed his virtual background to a wall of donuts, explaining that during the pre-pandemic times he used to bring a box of donuts for students on the last day. This semester in Mathematical Methods for Physicists and Engineers, we explored the applications of Fourier Transform by looking at the velocity of a star and detecting the number of planets around it. Our last Circuit Theory lab was in person, where we got to listen to a song/piece of our own choice through the low pass filter and the high pass filter pictured below. The professor handed out prizes (cool items she accumulated in conferences) to students to reward them for their participation in the pre-class trivia games. I received a mini glow moon. In addition, our circuits professor left out end-of-class fun packs with origami papers and stickers outside her office. Our last Organic Chemistry lab was also in-person, where each lab group presented their experiments and findings (through a projector rather than Zoom screen share!) My presentation group decided to dress up for this special occasion after a long year of virtual school. Lastly, for Organic Chemistry, we played organic chemistry jeopardy in our last lecture.

With all the professors wishing you a happy summer, you start daydreaming about the sunny beach and breezy wind. Oh wait, you still have final exams to take. All in three days!

Culprit 4: Final Examinations

This semester we had a three-day final exam study period (or reading period) when professors are not allowed to assign any homework or set deadlines. Right after the reading period is our final exams. Smith is known for its flexibility when it comes to exams thanks to its Honor Code system. Many exams are self-scheduled. Some are open-notes, and some are untimed. In a normal year, students go to Seelye Hall to print out and take the exams when they feel prepared.

For the classes I am taking this semester, I had three hours to take my Math Methods final, a whole day to take the Circuits Theory final, and the entire finals period to take my Organic Chemistry I final. Besides the exams, I had several other writing assignments to turn in. I was very fatigued at the end of the semester, so even though I only had three exams, I struggled to muster up mental energy to study. To make things worse, I got my second Pfizer shot during the reading period and had a pretty bad reaction. As a result, I asked the class dean to give me an extension on an exam, which was generously granted, and I was gratefully less overwhelmed.

Culprit 5: SmithCycle

The finals are now over, but my vacation didn't start yet. I am staying on campus for a few extra weeks to work for SmithCycle. SmithCycle is a program that collects, sorts and redistributes gently used dorm items students donate in the move-out process at the end of each school year. It gives purpose to items of reusable value and creates a more sustainable campus. In the past week, we have collected hundreds of bags (no exaggerations!) of items. Besides clothes, books, school and dorm supplies, some of the unexpected items include coffee makers, brand new water filters, and a monitor. One of my coworkers commented that first-years shouldn't have to shop clothes hangers again while they were going through three boxes of donated hangers.

The winter clothes we collected are going to the International Students and Scholars Office. They have an event called Winter Clothes Closet every fall where international students "shop" for free to help them get accustomed to the New England weather. School supplies will be moved into the Common Goods Resources Center which CEEDS hopes to launch in Fall 2021 (very exciting!). I cannot plug SmithCycle enough. If you are an incoming first-year, visit the Common Goods Resources center before you head to Target!

I have always been interested in sustainability and renewable energy and want to get more involved. When I saw the SmithCycle worker position posted on Workday, I immediately applied. Every SmithCycle worker's job varies. I am mainly responsible for washing and drying the linens and blankets. When waiting for the washer and dryer, I help with unloading the van that circulates between houses to pick up bags of donations. I also help with sorting. Pictured below is the inside of Scott Gym where all the items are currently stored.

Culprit 7: Summer Housing

As college transitions into summer, students who are staying on campus for some part of the summer had to move out of their spring housing assignment into their summer housing. I moved from Chapin, the house in central campus, to Capen, which is on the periphery of Smith. I know Chapin and Capen sound alike, but they are very different houses location-wise and personality-wise! To make up for its distance to the academic buildings, Capen House has its own garden, Capen Garden. The garden a gorgeous place many current Smithies are missing out on. There is a mini fountain, hedges, a garden temple, a plant arch, and a bizarre owl statue. Look at the last picture of the garden in this blog, and you will agree with me that the Paradise Pond is overrated.

Built in 1825 and acquired by Smith in 1921, Capen House is named after Bessie Capen, the second woman to be admitted to MIT. She taught chemistry at Smith College. Fun fact: Bessie Capen was once the associate principal of the Mary A. Burnham School for Girls, now Stoneleigh-Burham School; I went there for horseback riding lessons during my first year at Smith. Small world, right?

Case Closed

Thanks for reading this long-ish explanation. I hope my tardiness in delivering this post may be justified by the causes above. To compensate, I will write about my other summer plans and updates in the next few weeks. Stay tuned! Meanwhile, enjoy your summer!

#puppetry #piano #music #finals #smithcycle #capen house #capen garden #summer #pfizer #college #Smith College

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halothenthehorns · 3 years ago

Text

All in the Family

Chapter 107: Professor Umbridge

There was no chance for anyone to have a kind landing this time, what with the owl droppings all around and several more being deposited upon them at their abrupt arrival.

Lily found herself crashing against the window and had to scramble madly not to fall right through down to Hagrid's Hut below. James found himself face to face with Hedwig once more, who screeched at him all puffed up like a giant angry snowball.

Worst of all, rain was pouring down from above, rising the smell of hay and feces right to their faces even as they did get to their feet, water was slapping against their necks from the windowless eve even with the door closed, and Peter blanched in disgust to be spying more rat skeletons along the floor. He hadn't liked being in here even before he'd become an animagus, all the birds cooing and glaring down at him, now it just felt like a bad omen. He was more than happy to get out of here as soon as possible, and around cold shivers already creeping into him, he summoned the book which came zooming down from one of the top rafters just to add insult to injury. The soggy chapter title was somehow the worst bit of all though.

"A whole chapter dedicated to that toad-faced woman?" Sirius asked in disgust, leaning around Peter to double check for himself. Peter only wished he were making it up.

Seamus Finnigan only kept the mood in dreary levels by the reminder of how he, and likely the majority of the school, was going to be treating Harry this following year.

At least the twins were always a good distraction. Peter read almost fanatically about their poster and any form of fun and mayhem they could be sharing. Hermione of course had to go and kill that mood too.

"Oh don't," Lily snapped as she glared at the Marauders, particularly Potter as usual, though she was side-eyeing Lupin with some disdain instead of Black this time. "It's her job to be doing this as well as Ron's."

"No one's paying them to do it," James scoffed.

She rolled her eyes and most definitely was not going to get into it with him, it would fall on deaf ears how those eleven-year-olds had no idea what they'd be getting into to volunteer for anything.

Frank shifted uncomfortably as talk of Hagrid not being there came and went again. He kept telling himself he was being ridiculous just like Alice did, he'd already spent six years in this castle with Hagrid and Lupin the werewolf and literally nothing had happened but some odd rumors, half of which the Marauders themselves apparently started going by their commentary, and there weren't even any mysterious deaths or disappearances.

Telling himself that and his heart still accelerating without permission were two very different things.

Instead he was more than happy to smile along with Alice when Keeper tryouts were mentioned, even having no particular liking for the sport himself, he would sit through a dozen games just to watch Alice react to it.

Then even that was spoiled by having to listen to Harry's schedule for that Monday!

"I thought torture was banned at Hogwarts!" James yelped at that madness.

"It's, almost a good thing," Frank couldn't keep all the patheticness out of his voice for how he felt of this. "Get them all out of the way at once."

"No!" James snapped back for anyone trying to make this a good thing.

"We don't know that Umbridge woman is going to be a bad teacher yet," Alice sighed and defended her boyfriend more out of obligation than anything, nobody believed otherwise after what little they'd heard of her so far.

Peter just ignored her.

Even talk of their OWLs coming up helped settle no one, as the fifth-years still had those to look forward to when they got back! Even Frank, Alice, and Regulus grimaced along with them at imagining taking exams the coming Monday after having lived through this nonsense.

At least Sirius got a laugh out of the twins putting bulbadox powder in someone's pants, he was mentally writing that one down, though not yet determined who he'd use it on, present company not exactly excluded.

"It's nice to be ahead of Hermione on something," Regulus muttered for himself as she and Ron began to wonder where the twins had gotten their money for all their joke shop talk.

Harry semi-managed to change the subject at least, and the book droned on a bit into one of Binns's always 'memorable' classes, and the following spat between Ron and Hermione. Peter found himself almost starting to relax at least with these familiar patterns, he'd been expecting Umbridge to do something much worse by now what with her name being front and center.

Instead Harry went through a whole embarrassing bit with Cho, a nasty but predictable bullying of Snape, and an entire sleep-worthy lecture by Trelawney about dreams.

The rain was still lashing around them, Pig was now hooting and hopping along to his seventh spot, and they were all shivering miserably, but despite all of that and their continued mental assurances Umbridge wouldn't even bother to acknowledge Harry, they all felt a chill go up their spine when Harry first went into her room.

She certainly didn't impress anyone with her continuing to treat them like toddlers doing a morning greeting, but at least the worst she seemed to have them doing that first day was copying what they'd be doing for the semester, a standard enough approach.

Peter frowned however and Regulus glanced over his shoulder to read that for himself when it really sunk in what they were hearing.

Sirius had been pacing for warmth and James had been picking at his ears in boredom, but they looked up sharply as well.

Remus scrutinized the book in confusion and Frank opened and closed his mouth but decided to wait and hear this out first, surely they were jumping to the wrong conclusions here.

Lily and Alice exchanged a wordless look that spoke volumes, something was off there.

Things only got worse, as Hermione instigated a question they'd all like answered, why was there nothing about using spells on her chalkboard?

Only after Hermione refused to be deterred several times and even Harry jumped in did Umbridge finally say it in plain English, she didn't think there was a need!

Harry wasn't the only one who would have lost his temper at this notion. Never, in all their bad teachers, had they actually heard of someone coming into the school and refusing to teach!

They half expected the toad woman to slap shackles onto Harry rather than just writing out a note for McGonagall to read, this was just so out there.

Instead, Harry found himself with detention for a week, and McGonagall telling him to mind his temper.

"If that was her first class, what other levels of hell could the rest of this year be like?" Peter grimaced before promising the others at least this chapter was done while finishing the last line and at least getting them away from this dismal place.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #Marauders #Wolfstar #Jilly #OotP #HP #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Regulus Black #Peter Pettigrew #Alice Smith #Lily Evans #Frank Longbottom

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atinytokki · 4 years ago

Text

Paradise

iv. The Pearl in the Oyster

By the time San was seated in the boat with the wind on his face and the shores of his town on the horizon, he had overcome his shock at discovering a secret pirate refuge.

Jiyong and Mr. Shim had fussed over him and grilled him with questions after he was rescued, but from a combination of the fact that he wasn’t sure whether he had imagined the whole ordeal and the fact that he was terrified, he hadn’t given them much information.

“Please don’t tell my grandparents,” he suddenly begged as the Namhae docks came into view.

“San, you were lost in the caves for nearly an hour,” Mr. Shim argued as he adjusted the sails. “It would be irresponsible of me not to tell them.”

“But I’m not hurt!” San argued back, getting to his feet and swaying slightly with the momentum of the boat. “And they’ll only be angry at me for running away!”

Mr. Shim frowned at him, but he didn’t scold him again, so San took it as a sign to continue.

“Didn’t you ever wander off as a boy? You wouldn’t have wanted your parents to know, would you?”

“I did have my mischievous days,” the man admitted. “But I matured and stayed away from dangerous places until I could handle myself.”

He delivered this last line with a pointed glance, one that told San if he could shape up, he would be off the hook.

A smile grew on his face and he nodded eagerly.

“Alright,” Mr. Shim chuckled. “I was young once too, wasn’t I?”

San greeted the now familiar shores of his island with relief and helped to unload the boat until his grandparents appeared at the docks to collect him.

The old sailor reported that they had enjoyed a refreshing and uneventful time in the markets of Dalhae, true to his word. San waved goodbye to the two and flopped around in the back of the cart on the ride home.

Warm food in his belly and a gentle breeze blowing through his window, San told Haneul of his adventures and organised her shells into a small wooden chest until Grandmother poked her head in and told them to go to bed.

Even as he stared into the fireplace and tried to fall asleep, the eyes of the pirate lingered in the back of his mind.

Supposing San had gotten all the adventure that he needed, Grandfather put him to work in the carpentry shop the next morning and even more frequently after.

When he was out of the room, busy selling his wares in town, or asleep at the desk, San took it as an opportunity to stretch his sore leg and practice fighting invisible pirates in the carpentry shop unsupervised.

Of course, this resulted in the destruction of some of the carving displays and plank storage, so Grandfather passed him off to Grandmother while he cleaned up after him, and San was subject to quiet reading and a picnic on the beach for the afternoon.

For a boy with an active imagination, San’s life had become rather boring. Unless it was about pirates, it wasn’t interesting enough, so Grandmother in her indulgence gifted him a few naval history books in the hopes that he would be satiated.

He was unsuccessful in discovering the identities of the pirates in the caves no matter how hard he researched, especially when all he had to go on was the fact that one had been sporting a peg leg (apparently a common occurrence among pirates) and the other had seemed... young.

San had all but given up hope when one rainy day in late autumn, the familiar tapping sound of a peg leg resounded from the front path.

His head shot up from where he had been in deep focus at his little desk, whittling a wooden ship (that Grandfather had discouraged, and didn’t need to know about) and he counted two seconds before the jangle of the bell rung out and the customer was on the doorstep, silhouetted by dripping rain that blinked silver in the lightning flash.

Suddenly, the stranger stepped closer and just like that, the fantasy was shattered. San didn’t recognise this man from the caves.

“Wh-Who are you?” He croaked out weakly, standing from his chair and watching the peg leg man intently. Pirate or no pirate, San was ready to defend the house from him if need be.

The man frowned and closed the door behind him, adjusting his satchel with an unreadable look in his eye. “I was informed you’d be expecting me.”

If they were expecting him, San wasn’t aware of the fact. It had only been three days since the magistrate had been over for dinner, and San’s grandparents didn’t invite guests that frequently.

“Who are you, exactly?” He asked, trying to be polite, catching himself with a late bow.

“Oh, hello Dr. Hong!”

Right on cue, Grandfather rushed out from the back room and came to shake hands with the man, whose large bag made a lot more sense now.

A doctor.

San didn’t like doctors.

“I hope San didn’t let you stand out in the rain,” Grandfather was saying with a pointed glance that told San he was in trouble if he had.

“No, not at all,” Dr. Hong laughed as he was helped out of his coat. “The lad seemed wary, but I can see why.”

The doctor tapped his peg leg on the rug and San blushed at being called out. “I’ll tell you how I got it if you ask,” the man continued with a bright smile. “But first, I have a patient to attend to!”

Grandfather and the doctor hurried upstairs and left San to his own devices, wondering why a doctor had been called and quieting his intense curiosity about the peg leg as it began to grow again.

He finished the masts by the time Dr. Hong returned to the shop. Sensing the boy’s nervousness, the doctor quickly reassured him his visit was only a routine checkup.

“Haneul is doing well, all things considered,” he told him softly. “Though, you must always protect her and keep her healthy.”

San agreed in a heartbeat, not too naïve to forget why he was here on Namhae in the first place.

Everything was for Haneul.

“Ah, yes, the leg,” the guest remembered just before leaving.

San perked up and scooted closer to hear the tale.

“It was back in my Navy days, before I picked up medicine,” he explained. “I was a gunner on one of those cargo transport ships, the Royal Longtail, back when the East Colonies were just starting out and the trade routes were being established. We were attacked by pirates on the trip back and I, an inexperienced soldier, was shot in the leg and carted to the infirmary for the rest of the battle. I thought for a few harrowing moments that I was on the brink of death, but somehow I was saved.”

“How?” San nearly burst out, leaning on the edge of his seat.

Dr. Hong displayed his peg leg again. “The surgeon chopped off my leg just above the knee and managed to stop the bleeding. That miracle— the one that saved my life— convinced me to switch to the field of surgery. It’s quite new and underdeveloped but as you can see, real results are happening!”

San smiled at the satisfying conclusion of the story and bid the doctor farewell.

He still didn’t like them as a rule, but he could make an exception for this one.

Haneul claimed to be doing fine when San brought the evening meal up to her bedroom where she lay staring at the ceiling, but her skin was pale and clammy and from the way she was breathing he could tell she was anxious about something.

“Do you... want me to sit with you?” He asked timidly, unsure how to help once he’d set the plate on her bedside table and closed the window to shut out the breeze.

“No, just leave me alone,” his half-sister muttered, rolling over to face the wall and leaving San hurt and confused.

Without another word, he crept away and into his own room, tucking himself into bed. He knew not to take it personally, that sometimes she just got into moods like this when she was discouraged about her illness.

But it made San worry that the doctor hadn’t in fact told him everything.

Haneul appeared at breakfast but refused to play with him when he returned from school, in the few hours San had before he would be herded back into the carpentry shop.

It was disappointing but San took it as an opportunity to look for new friends, something he hadn’t put much effort into since arriving.

There were a couple of teenage girls with a five year old brother playing further down the beach on the rocks, the opposite way as Mr. Shim’s house, so San strolled over and introduced himself.

“I haven’t seen you before,” he admitted shyly. “Do you usually play further up the beach?”

“Yes,” the older of the two explained. “But today we’ve come here because of the construction.”

“Construction?” San asked, confused.

The girl pointed past the rooftops to the harbour where the masts craned like birds flocking along the shoreline. “The naval garrison. They’re finally building it.”

“It’s loud!” The little boy whined, crying when a particularly large swell washed him face-down into the sand.

San giggled and helped him up, seamlessly joining in their hunt for oysters while they told him what the garrison in town was going to look like.

He couldn’t help but glance over the hill and wonder what it would mean for Namhae. The more Navy presence, the less likely pirates would appear. And the less likely the two from the Dalhae caves would appear.

As San cracked open an oyster and, to his amazement, found a lucky pearl, he decided maybe it was for the better.

He’d had his adventure- enough adventure for a lifetime.

...

A/N: Guess who finished her semester!!!!! It was a rough one tbh but now I can write unhindered so expect more from me soon, but in the meantime don't forget to rb and comment <3

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kpophours · 5 years ago

Text

One Love || part I

➵ SF9: Youngbin x fem. reader / series, werewolf AU / fluff

➵ warnings: slight mentions of loss and death

➵ word count: 3k

next.

You knocked on the slightly ajar door in front of you.

It was just a plain, white door - not a fancy oak one or something like that, which you had always imagined the door of a professor's office to look like. This one pretty much looked like any other normal office door.

"Please enter.", a deep, male voice answered and you immediately pushed open the door, following the invitation.

"Well, hello there, how can I help you?" A brown-haired, handsome man with dark eyes smiled at you, closing the book he had just looked at. "Professor Kim? I'm Y/N, your new scientific assistant.", you answered, smiling a bit shyly. Immediately, his face lit up und he circled his desk to shake your hand. "Ahh yes, of course! It's so nice to finally meet you in person - please, have a seat." His smile widened even more and he gestured towards one of the black chairs in front of his desk, taking a seat himself.

"Thank you." You smiled again and handed him your documents, which he quickly looked over.

"Great, everything seems to be in order! As today is your first day, we don't want to overwork you immediately, so I thought I'd start with giving you a tour around our beautiful campus and introduce you to some colleagues and then, I’m going to show you my most recent research papers, which you can have a look at for the rest of the day. Sounds good to you?"

You smiled and nodded. "Sounds perfect, Professor Kim."

"Ah, please - we'll have to work closely together, so just call me Inseong. I hope I can call you Y/N?", he said, simply waving his title aside and smiling at you.

"Of course, Prof- uh, I mean, Inseong." you answered, returning his smile and following the tall man out of the office.

The campus was really beautiful, full of old brick buildings as well as some more modern looking office buildings. The library was a towering, imposing structure which reminded you more of a church than an actual university building - and you immediately fell in love with it. The whole university reminded you a bit of Hogwarts, so you felt like walking through a dream. Only a handful of students seemed to be hanging out on campus today, but that wasn’t really surprising - the new semester hadn't started yet.

"And this is the most important building out of all of them - the cafeteria.", Inseong explained, ending his tour with a grand gesture towards one of the more modern looking buildings. You laughed and he smiled, really liking the sound, bright and fresh so early in the morning - he already knew working with you would be a pleasure, you were open-minded, talkative, funny and seemed to be pretty laid-back. He couldn’t wait to hear your thoughts on his next big research project.

"Well, I think I'm going to like working here. The atmosphere is truly amazing - and the campus is beautiful, I always love when buildings have a certain... history to them.", you told Inseong just before you entered the History department again and smiled up at him, looking around and taking a last deep breath of autumn air, before pushing inside.

"Well, you can definitely say this about these buildings! Ahh, I'm truly just so glad you're finally here. I really do need a helping hand and I'm sure we'll become a great team. Are you maybe interested in having dinner with me tonight? I could show you around our little town, if you like." Inseong immediately saw you withdrawing upon hearing his proposal. "I mean as friends of course! I am definitely not interested in dating at the moment, I simply don't have the time!", he quickly explained further, sheepishly ruffling his hair and smiling down at the you.

You exhaled, relieved. "Oh, well... sure, I'd like that, then." Your attitude quickly changed back to your usual self and Inseong began gnawing on his lower lip. He meant it, he really wasn't interested in dating anyone at the moment - you were nice, intelligent and rather beautiful, but he knew a relationship with him would be a doomed one - because of his secret. He was a werewolf and therefore had a mate - somewhere out there in this world. It was possible that he would never meet her of course, but if he did... well, every other woman in the world would simply fade into the background, no matter how much she had meant to him before. He didn't want to risk breaking anyone's heart, so he always tried to keep his distance. And this would obviously also apply to his new research assistant.

The rest of the day passed rather quickly. You were able to work through a few of Inseong’s research papers without much difficulty, already pointing out some weaknesses - he had been right, you truly were the right person to help him. You were incredibly bright and quickly came to the right conclusions - Inseong knew you’d improve his little research team in just the right way.

The walk around town in the evening was very enjoyable as you had a lot to talk about. Inseong found you very easy to talk to, your witty sort of humor entertaining him greatly. He learned that you had grown up in a rather small village together with an older brother and your parents. Your childhood had been filled with good memories, up until your grandfather died - your family had been torn apart by the loss, one of your uncles and your mother hadn't talked to each other in years afterwards. You hadn’t been allowed to play with your cousins anymore - one of which had been like a brother to you, as you were the same age. Your mother had died when you were 15, as well as your maternal grandmother a few years later, to which you had been very close after losing your mother so early. You didn't really get along with your older brother, but loved your father beyond words.

Inseong also found out that you loved to read, listen to music and to travel, that you liked baking but not cooking and that your favorite animals were wolves (oh, the irony) and penguins. Inseong in turn told you about himself as well - that he had been raised by a very large family, that no, he had no "real" siblings, but was living together with a bunch of people now - a somewhat adopted family, he called them. Some were working in town, some were still students at university - none of them being a student of his, of course - and they were close like brothers, living together in a big old farmhouse outside of town, deep into the woods. He told you he also liked reading, but was more into historical fiction, something you rarely decided to read.

You noticed how much you already liked your new boss and began to really look forward to working with him and the rest of his team.

It was already completely dark and rather late, when you finally finished your dinner and left the cozy restaurant. "Well, thank you very much for this evening, Inseong - I had a lot of fun. Just one last question: do you happen to know about a car repair shop around here? I just bought a car and it seems to be in pretty good shape, but the previous owner said I should get it checked as soon as possible - just to be sure."

The tall man grinned and nodded. "I know just the guy for you - he actually lives with me! His name is Youngbin and he owns the best and biggest repair shop in town. I think I have his business card with me, just a second..." He searched through his wallet, finally finding said card and handed it to you. "Kim Youngbin, CAR REPAIR SHOP.", you read out loud, "Oh perfect, thank you! I'll call him tomorrow and ask for an appointment." But Inseong waved that aside. "I'll just tell him you'll come over after work tomorrow and he'll have a look at your car. I'm sure that won't be a problem."

"Are you sure?", you asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Oh yeah, I'll tell him tonight - he’s a night owl and most definitely still awake.", Inseong answered and smiled at you.

You returned it immediately. "Well, thank you! That's really nice. I'll see you tomorrow at the office, then?"

"Yes. I'll bring coffee - a latte for you?", he asked, car keys already in hand.

"I’d prefer a cappuccino, thanks. And can I interest you in a muffin or bagel?", you replied and he grinned.

"Oh, you absolutely can."

"Then that's what I'll bring.", you said with a smile - and with that, you parted ways.

When you got home, you immediately threw off your shoes and jacket, quickly tumbling into your big, comfy bed - the jet lag still hadn't fully disappeared and you were completely exhausted. Minutes later, you were already fast asleep.

Inseong on the other hand wasn't nearly as tired as you when he came home - he also wouldn't have been able to get any sleep yet. The house was full of his brothers and some of their mates, it was apparently time for their monthly movie night again.

"Inseong, there you are! We were almost beginning to miss you - don't tell me you were working until now?!", Jaeyoon immediately greeted him when he entered the living room. He was one half of the, how Inseong silently called them, ‘chaos line'.

"Well, he probably wasn't one a date, so where else could he have been?", Dawon, the other half of said line, grinned and struck out his tongue at the older man.

"Don't be mean.", his mate Ava immediately scolded, wacking him over the head and smiling apologetically at the older man, who just rolled his eyes.

"I actually was out, just so you know."

"ON A DATE?!", the tallest of the bunch, Rowoon, almost shouted, surprise written all over his handsome face. All fell silent, gaping at Inseong who had turned slightly red. "No, don't be ridiculous. I just had dinner with my new scientific assistant, that's all. She's new in town and doesn't know anyone yet, so I showed her around a bit."

"Ohhh, is she pretty?", Kate, Jaeyoon’s mate, asked, smiling brightly just as Dana, Chani’s mate, asked: "Is she nice?"

"I don't see what her looks have to do with anything, but yes - she is very pretty. But more wha’s even more important, she is nice, yes - thank you, Dana.", Inseong answered, making Kate pout. Jaeyoon grinned and slung his arms around her, pulling her to his chest.

"Who's pretty and nice?", a male voice behind Inseong suddenly asked and Youngbin entered the living room, hands still full of grease from repairing cars all day.

"Inseong’s new assistant.", Rowoon explained immediately.

"Scientific assistant, there's a difference.", the older man automatically corrected, "She's writing her doctor's thesis as well as joining my research team."

“So she's intelligent.", Zuho guessed.

"Oh, highly so. I think she'll be able to improve my papers greatly.", Inseong confirmed and Youngbin whistled. "Coming out of your mouth... she must be half a genius." He cracked a slightly crooked smile, indicating his irony.

"But she's not your mate, I guess.", Rowoon said and everyone fell silent again.

"No, she is not. But something about her... I don’t know. Her scent indicates something, but I can't put my finger on it.", Inseong explained thoughtfully, staring into nothing, before shrugging, "Maybe I'm wrong, who knows. I'll go and try to get some sleep now - you guys don't stay up too late, okay?"

Everyone nodded, before looking at the big screen in front of them again.

"Ah, by the way - Y/N needs someone to check her car, so I told her she could come by at your repair shop after work tomorrow and you'll have a look. I hope that's alright with you?", Inseong said to Youngbin and his alpha just shrugged, before nodding. "Sure. I'll be around the shop until 8pm at least, I think.", he answered.

"Perfect, Y/N will be glad to hear that. Good night then.“ With that, Inseong left their living room.

It was bitterly cold the next day.

You already froze half to death when you hurried along the sidewalk to get to your car. Your breath formed tiny white clouds in front of you and you cursed yourself for not having thought about bringing your gloves. They were still in one of the few unpacked boxes inside your new apartment - but who could have guessed that the temperature would drop so low just over night? Not you, that much was obvious. You were glad that your car started pretty quickly, even though it was a such an old one - a black VW golf cabrio from the 90s. Back home you had driven a newer model, a shiny, silver VW polo, but now you were on a tighter budget. You just hoped that the repair shop wouldn't find any real damage tonight.

When you finally arrived at work, your car was already cozily warm and you felt much better. You had quickly stopped at a little café not far from campus to obtain the promised muffins and bagels for Inseong and yourself and now you were rushing towards the office so you wouldn't be late for your second day.

Inseong was already seated behind his desk when you arrived - a bit out of breath, you should really start your workout routine again - and immediately began to smile when he saw you, his dark eyes forming little crescents. "Good morning, Y/N. Slept well?"

You grinned back, placing the food on top of the table. "I did, thank you. But I was a bit shocked when I stepped outside this morning, if I'm being honest. Such a radical temperature drop over night!"

"Well, that does happen sometimes in this state.”, Inseong confirmed, reaching behind him and handing you a steaming cup, ”Here, take your coffee - it'll heat you up." You deeply inhaled the familiar scent, smiling slightly and thanking him, before taking a seat behind you own desk.

You spent the next few hours in comfortable silence, with only a few interruptions whenever you had questions about the research. At around 2pm, Inseong and you had lunch at the cafeteria, where you also met up with a few other professors and their research assistants, before returning to your work. At 6.30pm, Inseong finally yawned, stretched and turned off his desk light. "Well, that's it for today. Let's go home - or in your case, let’s go to the repair shop. Youngbin knows you're stopping by, so he'll be waiting for you."

"Ah, perfect, thank you so much, Inseong! I'll see you tomorrow, then.", you answered and smiled at him.

"Yes, have a nice evening, Y/N." With that, he shot you a wink and left the office.

You didn't have much trouble finding the repair shop, even though you usually didn't have the best sense of direction. But earlier that day, Inseong had shown you the way on Google maps and as the shop was just a few blocks away from campus, you found it rather quickly. You parked your car in front of one of the many garages, got out and looked around a bit helplessly. The shop was much larger than you had expected and you weren’t exactly sure where to go now - the front entrance was dark, but you saw light coming from the inside of one of the garages. Still, you decided to try the front entrance first - which was already closed as you quickly found out. Finally, you knocked against the door of the illuminated garage.

"Hello?", you asked as you carefully pushed open the door, "Is anyone here? Mr. Kim? I'm Y/N - Inseong said you could help me with my car?"

From under the car, a person emerged, clad in heavy worker boots, a greyish tank top and an overall whose upper part was loosely tied around narrow hips. The man was tall when he stood up, his well-toned arms even more prominent thanks to his tight muscle shirt. He wore his black hair in a slight undercut and sported dark, smoldering eyes.

He didn't return your smile when he saw you - no, he looked a bit shocked and taken-aback upon spotting you.

"Mr. Kim?", you asked, getting a bit shy now and ducking your head when you saw his almost critical gaze. "Oh, uh - yes, I'm Youngbin." His voice was a bit rough, which caused a shiver to run down your spine. Your heart began to pound faster and your breath caught.

Dear Lord, he was hot.

You’d never felt such immediate attraction towards anyone ever before.

"Hwi, can you take over, please? I have to... go." With that, Youngbin almost ran away from you, leaving you somewhat bewildered behind. Suddenly, another, younger man emerged from behind a car, sporting long, messy hair and a sweet gummy smile. "Hey there, you must be Y/N. I'm Hwiyoung, Youngbin’s helping hand. Sooo, you want us to have a look at your car?", he asked without batting an eye at his boss’ weird behavior.

You just nodded, still flabbergasted thanks to Youngbin’s strange exit. "Uh, yes, that would be great. There's nothing wrong with it - or at least not something I, someone who knows pretty much nothing about cars, can see. But the previous owner said it would be better to have it checked by a car shop.”, you finally explained and Hwiyoung nodded, taking the car keys from you and turning to leave the garage. "You can stay here, if you like. It will take about half an hour to check if anything's broken or faulty.", he said over his shoulder, smiling at you.

"Oh... well, thank you? I just...", you trailed off, looking around the garage.

"The office is just around the corner. Ask Youngbin to make some coffee or tea. I'll be back as soon as I can." With that, he grinned one last time before leaving you behind.

You just stood there, undecided for a few seconds, before sighing deeply and finally making your way towards the office.

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xxsanshinexx · 5 years ago

Text

A textbook and you

Pairing: Yang Jeongin x Reader

Words: 3576

Genre: Highschool au

Synopsis: You didn’t have a biology textbook and needed one, thankfully Yang Jeongin was kind enough to share one for the semester.

You had no idea how you ended up sharing a biology textbook with Yang Jeongin, but yet here you were; scribbling down the functions and structures of cells before you had to give him back the book for his test. The two of you had different class periods, you having biology late in the day and him right after lunch. It helped make the little system you created function a little easier; however, it still didn’t make the situation any less odder. Juggling the textbooks back and forth between the two of you, one of you getting to steal it for one half of the day and the other getting it for the rest.

You knew how all of it came to be. You were too lazy to get up on time to get your textbooks from the school and by the time you had gone to retrieve them; it came out that the school hadn’t ordered enough. Now while you were wholly content to try and pass your class without the textbook, you knew Mr. Park only assigned out of the textbook. Jeongin just happened to be in line in front of you during the whole situation and being the kind boy that he is, insisted that you took the book and he would get the work from one of his friends who already took the class.

The only problem about his noble offer was that you couldn’t accept it and that the pair of you were extremely stubborn. This is how you came to the conclusion that you would share the textbook. This is also how you came to sit in the library, furiously scribbling in your notebook as Jeongin tried to review his sticky notes.

“I don’t think pressing harder on the paper is gonna make you remember the content anymore than regular studying would,” Jeongin chuckled without glancing up from his yellow notes. This was common, the two of huddled over a single textbook; you clamouring to understand the information while Jeongin sat nice and pretty and calm reviewing everything you should’ve had memorized.

“Jeongin,” You huffed, scribbling down the function of enzymes that roamed the esophagus, “Please shut up.”

You could feel him lean against you shoulder and you sucked on your teeth at the proximity. It was common knowledge that Jeongin was good looking, with a great personality and a sweet smile to match. It was also common knowledge to anyone who looked close enough that you had a crush on the young sunshine since the two of you met in middle school. Thankfully, no one had looked at either of you two close yet.

He leaned his head against your shoulder and you stared intently at the scientific words that made no sense, trying to distract yourself from the way his breathy laugh sounded so perfect. “You spelled enzyme wrong.”

It was moments like this though that made you regret your taste in men.

“God let me study in peace Jeongin!” You shouted, earning a distasteful shush from the librarian that put an embarrassed blush on your features. “Mr. Park hates me, I have to know all of this even if it’s spelled wrong.”

“Don’t feel special he hates everyone.” Jeongin laughed as he rearranged his notecards to be in alphabetical order. “And enzyme’s has an e at the end.”

“God dammit Jeongin.” You grumbled as you began to add in the e to the word, knowing he wouldn’t stop mocking you about it till it was fixed. “Doesn’t matter if I spelled it write or not the tests are multiple choice.”

“Beomgyu told me this one is written. Might want to learn to spell,” He said and you groaned, slamming your face against the textbook just as the bell rang. It meant your time with Jeongin, and most importantly the textbook, was over.

“Goodbye to my grades.” You sighed and you felt Jeongin pat you back in an attempt to reassure you.

“You’ll do fine Y/n, you always do.” You looked up only to be greeted by his mesmerising smile, and you couldn’t help but feel like his words were truthful. “Now, can I have the textbook? I need it for class.”

A pout settled on your lips, “Only if you write down all the test answers for me when you give it back during passing.”

“Sure, whatever you say Y/n,” He swiftly pulled the book out from under your arms and cast you a wink before stumbling off to his classroom; leaving you a mix of emotions in the deserted library. The feeling of lovesickness and dread were not a good combo for anyone, especially not you with your weak heart and closed emotions. Another sigh left your lips as you made your way out of the room, trying to remain optimistic about the rest of your day.

The last period of the day seemed to come a lot faster than you could memorize what chemosynthesis was. You had spent the majority of you history class reviewing the scribbly notes you had taken during lunch time, mentally cursing yourself for misspelling nearly every word; though you would never give Jeongin the satisfaction of knowing that.

“I am going to fail~” You sang as you met Jeongin in your normal meeting place, the hallway that was the middle ground between your final classes.

Jeongin just shook his head and smiled, holding out the book for you to take in your arms. “It’s not that hard Y/n.”

“Easy for you to say, Mr. I’m a genius.”

“I’m not a genius,” He laughed, running his hand through his hair suddenly seeming anxious. “Anyways, I have something to ask you which you kinda have to say yes to?”

You raised an eyebrow at his odd remark and demeanor, “Then why are you even asking me?”

“Fair point,” He nodded and ran his hand up to clutch onto his backpack strap, “Well I uh signed us up to be partners for this biology project Mr. Park is gonna assign at the end of class. We have to make a model of a cell- i think i picked plant- and uh I figured you’d be okay with it. I mean- we already spend so much time together over this class i just uh… guessed you’d be cool if we just paired up for it. I’ll have to see you after school anyways to get back the textbook.”

His proposal had you with a nervous smile on your face, having never expected such a statement. Usually when Jeongin asked you something, it was to buy him food or to slide him the answers for the math exam that he had next period. You didn’t really think he would ever want to partner with you, for anything other than this stupid textbook deal.

“Yeah,” You squeaked out, Jeongin barely able to catch your words. “That-That sounds good… we can work on it at my house if you want?”

“Today? I can do today after school- if that’s okay of course-” the warning bell rang in the midst of Jeongin’s words and you both looked at each other with wide eyes.

“I can do today,” You said quickly, watching as Jeongin nodded and began to speedily backpedal in the direction of his classroom.

“Sounds good!” He called through the sea of late students who were beginning to swarm the hallway, “Text me- oh and good luck!”

His words made you smile as you shook your head, beginning to squirm through the hallway’s traffic to your dreaded last class. At least now you had something to look forward to at the end of the day. And the sticky note that read nearly all the answers are A with a smiley face only added to your sudden happy mood.

The test was just as difficult as you had expected, but Jeongin’s words of wisdom had you feeling better about your outcome. It made the decisions on answers easier to make and you remember to spell enzyme correctly when faced with written answers. Your optimistic mood only grew as you reached the porch of your house, textbook in hand and a nervous smile on your face.

“Grandma i’m home!” You called as you walked in, dropping off your things in their respective places as you made your way towards your room.

“How was school love?” You grandma’s soft voice fluttered out from her room and you peaked your head in to find her bent over book.

“It was good, Grandma.” You said and that nervous smile came back onto your face as you remembered who would be here in less than an hour, “And uh Grandma, I have a friend coming over today so please? Try not to scare them of to quickly?”

It was then she finally looked up from her book, eyes withered with age alighting with interest. “You don’t ask that when just any of your friends come around. Why is this one special? Oh! Is it that Jeongin boy you keep gushing about- you know i’ve still yet to meet him and all you do is talk about-”

You sighed in distress, realizing that you should never tell your grandmother anything, and nodded your head. “Please don’t say anything! He’s only coming over for a project! A project, grandma! Nothing else! Nothing! No weird talk and certainly don’t repeat anything I have said about him to you-”

“Not even how you think his eyes hold the whole galaxy-”

“Anything!” You could hear her mischievous laughter as you continued down the hall to your room, the panic beginning to fill you. Yang Jeongin was coming over soon, your room was incredibly messy, your Grandma was planning something and you had less than thirty minutes to make you and your house presentable. The panicked shriek you let out was loud enough for your grandmother to laugh at as you began your frantic attempt to clean up.

A soft knocking half an hour later brought you out of your cleaning daze. You had managed to get all the clothes off the floor, the books back on your shelf and your bed made, as well as changing out of your uniform, when the noises rang out through the house.

“Y/n! Your boyfriend is here!” You grandmother helpfully called as you sprinted down the hall.

“Grandma! This goes against what we talked about!” You called back as you frantically tried to smooth out your shirt and force the redness away from your face before you opened the door. When you opened the door you were faced with a different Jeongin than you were used to. Instead of the pristine yellow uniform that usually adorned both of you, he was in black track pants, a black fitted T-shirt and his hair was pushed back underneath a beanie. To say your face got redder at the look was an understatement. “Hey Jeongin.”

“H-Hi Y/n.” He smiled as he stepped into your home, slipping off his shoes and sliding his backpack off of his shoulder. “Nice house.”

“Uh thanks,” You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly as you began to take slow steps in the direction of your room. “We can work on the project in my room if that's cool- or we could do it out here! Just uh my grandmother’s home so I don’t know if you want-”

“I’m good with anything, I just don’t want to intrude.” He chuckled as he followed you down the hallway. You were quick to notice your grandmother's door was wide open and mentally groaned, knowing that perhaps you should have just left it a mystery about who was coming over. Thankfully, she didn’t make an appearance as you snuck into your bedroom leaving the door open only a fraction so she wouldn’t get suspicious.

Jeongin stood in the center of your room taking in all the pictures and colors that adorned it, before turning back to you with a small smile. “Is it just you and your grandmother or?”

“My mom and dad are away a lot,” You shrugged, gesturing to the room for him to sit wherever while you grabbed supplies. “I live here cause it's easier and better school district.”

“So how do you want to do this?” Jeongin questioned, as you laid on a notebook on the bed and took a seat next to him watching as he laid back against the headboard.

“I barely even know what you signed us up to do,” You shook your head with a smile as you flipped your notebook to a blank page.

“Then why did you say yes so easily?” The teasing tone was evident in his voice but it still made you fight blush rising to your cheeks. Jeongin chuckled at your lack of response and dug around in his backpack, pulling out a ruffled piece of paper. “We’re making a plant cell model. It’s gotta have everything, cell walls, chloroplast, nucleus-”

“Has to be green.” You added helpfully as you jotted down all the requirements onto your paper, earning a laugh from Jeongin.

“Yes,” he chuckled, setting the paper next to you. “Most importantly, it has to be green.”

“We could do it red if we’re feeling creative,” You said, doodling away as you tried to think of a good model for this project.

“I was honestly feeling pink. Maybe even a blood orange-”

“Oh my God, shut up,” You laughed, sliding the paper over for him to be able to add in his own ideas. “We can make something blood orange on the model if you really want-”

“You know maybe a champagne pink would look better instead?” You couldn’t help your laughter at his words, “Okay, what about amethyst? A fuschia if you will?” You slapped him on the shoulder, trying to get him to stop as giggles flowed out from your lungs, “Fine, we'll go with cerise.”

“Just do some work,” You smiled up at him, quick to notice the stars that danced in his eyes making him seem all the more lively. You weren’t lying when you told your grandmother that fact.

Jeongin still filled the time of your peaceful working with color jokes, plant jokes and many things that were able to get you to snicker despite your determined mood. The air surrounding you two was light and easygoing, letting you both chatter about nothing as you sketched out cerise nuclei and periwinkle ribosomes; Jeongin cutting away and organizing as you did so. It was nice, even if words weren’t as prominent as you thought they would be; because they weren’t needed as you cut, colored and organized in silence.

“I don’t think we’re going to finish all of this today,” You huffed, stretching your fingers that had begun to ache from their constant sketching.

Jeongin nodded as he held up a handful of mitochondria, letting them fall from his hands in a flutter. “We’ll just have to meet up again to finish all of this.”

You blushed against your will but still managed to scoff, “You want to see me that badly?”

Jeongin gapped at your response and would have nearly embarrassed himself with a response if it wasn’t for your grandmother barging into the room at that very moment. The look she gave you upon seeing Jeongin had your ears turning red and a panic coursing through your veins.

“Well, hello there,” She smiled sweetly to which Jeongin responded with his own smile, but you knew she was only here to embarass you. “You must be the Jeongin Y/n talks so much about!”

And there it was. You internally screamed as Jeongin’s smile grew a little lopsided and his eyebrow raised in interest. “Oh? Y/n talks about me?”

“You and your pretty dimples and voice. Your jokes and laugh make the conversation a lot too.” She grinned and threw you a wink, which you barely made out through your embarrassment. “I came in just to check in on you two, and meet you very good looking friend.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, ma’am.” Jeongin said, through rather tightly as you watched his features dance with too many emotions. Oh God, he had definitely put together you grandmother words and hints.

“Grandma, can you please leave?” You said with a forced smile, watching as she grinned but nodded; slyness glinting in her eyes.

“Just yell if you need me, I’ll be knitting in the living room.” Again, she winked with the words you’re welcome lingering on her lips as she shut the door; leaving the once content room in an air of awkwardness.

The silence passing between you two was thick. Jeonin didn’t so much as look up as he went back to busying his hands with cutting out shapes. You couldn’t blame him, you tried to avoid all eye contact as you furiously scribbled away at what was supposed to be Chloroplasts. You couldn’t believe she had just walked in here and done that; telling him you thought his dimples were cute! She even told him you thought his voice was nice! Why would she do that!? You mentally screamed, feeling like your once positive day had been entirely ruined by the elderly meddling in it; enough so that angry tears began to swarm in your eyes.

“Did… do you really think my dimples are cute?” Jeongin muttered after several moments of silence, jolting your body back into being rigid with nerves.

“I uh…” You trailed off, not picking up your gaze from your sloppy drawings, “I…. I might have mentioned it once.”

“And my voice?”

You sighed before speaking, curling up against the headboard facing your head away from his, not having the courage to even look at him. You didn’t want to see the rejection. “I might’ve.”

“Was that the only things you complimented about me? Or was there something else you wanted to say besides my dimples and voice?” His voice was soft, still holding that teasing undertone, as he reached over and gently placed his hand over yours. There were those stupid jolts that festered under your skin; the ones that were there when he smiled at you or did something relatively kind. You didn’t understand why he was trying to coax more compliments out of you at the moment.

“I’m sorry for my grandmother, I really am. I didn’t know she was gonna say all that stuff and make a mess of the whole day. I know it’s super awkward now I totally get it if you want to just leave- God I kinda want to and this is my own house- but uh just don’t think any differently of me or just please don’t-” You were cut off by the back of your hand being met with feather soft lips.

“You really think I’m going to shun you for something like this…. Especially when… when I feel the same to you.” His voice was quiet, lower than a whisper, but it was enough for you too snap your head around and meet his star filled eyes. You had never seen them look so sincere, or vulnerable. It was silent as you both stared at each other, not even your breaths made a noise as you stayed frozen, watching how Jeongin still held your hand tightly in his and how his breath fanned against your skin. “Please tell me I didn’t read this entire situation wrong and made a fool out of myself.”

“You didn’t.” You breathed out, forcing yourself to hold onto his hand a little tighter despite your shock. “I just…. Wasn’t expecting that.”

“Trust me, neither was I.” His dimple appeared as he laughed, the nervousness from the previous moments flowing out of him. “I never thought a grandmother’s meddling would make me confess of all things. I figured it would’ve been Seungmin’s annoyance.”

“It’s not what I pictured either.” You chuckled, looking back up to the eyes that you loved to stare at, the moments prior finally hitting you. Those eyes liked you back.

Jeongin tugged gently on your hand, the smile on his face never seeming to go away, “I-I don't think you want to spend our first day together working on a school project, do you?”

“Together?” The words leaving your lips lit up your body with an undescribed feeling. You? Together with Yang Jeongin? It was unbelievable.

“Yeah… together.” He laughed quietly, playing with your fingers that were still wrapped around his own.

A smile finally rested upon your lips as you felt him fiddle with your index, running a light finger over your knuckle. “You never officially asked me out.”

He shook his head and looked up at you, pure elation written on his features. “Would you, Y/n, L/n, please be mine? Please?”

“Will you give me the answers to the next bio test?” You laughed, gripping his hand tightly in your own, loving the way it felt to finally hold his hand.

“Already planning on it, love.” The grin on his face at the words show you how truthful he was, and your red face told him you loved the new nickname. He pulled your hand back up to his lips, pressing another one of his feather soft kisses against your skin before whispering against it, “Now how about some ice cream to celebrate?”

Maybe, after all, your grandmother knew what she was doing with the two of you.

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